#and I’ve never even worn a bucket hat

[lyricsofgoldendaisy]

OKAY, ITS OFFICIAL- SHART THE SHARK IS NOW AVAILABLE ON MY REDBUBBLE SHOP @eddiemunsonscurl @chaoticmunson @muns-trosity-main @eddiemunsons-girl @myobmaya this is what happens when people encourage me-

(I named him Mandolin Shark though cuz I didn’t think actually naming him Shart the Shark on my Redbubble was a good idea 😅 idk about guidelines and shit so him being Shart the Shark could be like- our own thing, ya know? Apologies about that-)

ANYWAY- here he is in all his glory!✨ he’s available both with and without the SEA-nic background *ba dum tss* (am I funny yet-)

Alright, it’s 2 in the morning for me now, I’m going to bed- he’s available as a bunch of different products, including a shit ton of shirt options, hats (INCLUDING BUCKET HATS CUZ APPARENTLY REDBUBBLE DOES THAT NOW-), phone cases and etc

I hope Shart the Shark is a nice lil deviation from the RWBY items I put up 😁

[soft--dragon]

Shielding Out The Darkness

Based off of this prompt here

Word Count: 1,594

Warnings: Start of a panic attack

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

The colour green had been ruined for Tommy.

Green used to remind him of Phil. Remind him of Tubbo’s favourite shirt. Remind him of the emerald earring Techno wore.

Now, all he could see was that sickening, sadistic smile worn on a porcelain mask. The vibrant lime of a hoodie stained with Tommy’s own blood.

Tommy’s hands came up and gripped at his hair, a sob wrenching from his throat and piercing the quiet of the cabin. His tears were falling fast, too fast, he was struggling to get in breaths, his head was spinning, his vision blurring-

"-ommy? Tommy, hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open and his breath froze in his lungs.

Green. Green. Green.

His spine hit the wall with how hard he jolted away, palms pressing roughly at wooden floorboards to back himself further into a corner. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered hurriedly, words barely coherent with how much he was stuttering. “I’m sorry Dream- I-I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry, don’t hurt me-” 

His heart plummeted at the words tumbling from his own stupid mouth. Dream hated it when he asked for a lesser punishment. It only made it worse. Fuck.

Tommy whimpered in the back of his throat, pressing his face into his knees that were tightly drawn to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking pitifully. “P-Please, I’m s-sorry, please.”

He waited for the disappointed sigh. A sadistic laugh. A rough hand to grab his hair and yank his head up. 

None of that happened.

Instead, ams encircled him, warm and comforting.

Dream had never done that.

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open, his breathing still rapid and panicked. His gaze met blonde hair and a striped bucket hat, as well as a pair of black, feathered wings. 

Phil.

Tommy’s hands launched to grip onto the thick, warm robes Phil wore, clenching them in desperate fingers in an intense hold. He shoved his face into the man’s shoulder, crying his heart out in relief. 

Dream wasn’t here. He was safe. 

Phil shushed him quietly, his hand running through Tommy’s curly hair and easing the boy closer into his arms. “You’re okay bud,” he murmured warmly, “you need to take a breath though, can you do that? Here, copy me, I’ll lead you through it.”

The breathing exercise was familiar to Tommy. Not just because he used it himself, but because he’d used it with Wilbur, with Tubbo and even with Techno once or twice. They’d all had their reasons, and the exercise helped them. And it was helping Tommy now. 

Phil spoke softly, praising him each time he managed a full cycle before coaching him through the next one. He never sounded condescending, it was always gentle and easy. It was so much nicer than what Dream did when he found Tommy having a panic attack. 

Minutes passed before Tommy fully slumped into the man, stray tears still slipping free but his breathing had become even again. Phil hugged him close, his hand still stroking through Tommy’s hair and making the teen go lax under the attention. 

“I’ve got you buddy,” Phil promised softly, “you’re going to be just fine.”

The words almost brought Tommy to tears again. He pressed himself closer, wishing Phil could just shield him away from everything. “I hate feeling scared Phil,” he whispered, his voice shaking as much as he was. “I’m so scared all the time and I fucking hate it.”

Phil squeezed him to his chest sadly. “He’s not gonna touch you here,” he reassured, “That green teletubby is going to suffer if he even looks at you.”

Tommy shuddered. “I don’t know how he can even see out of that stupid mask.”

“Neither do I, but I won’t bother asking him, I’m just gonna kill him on sight.”

And while it was a dark thing to say, it still made Tommy smile, and that was enough for Phi.

He pulled away, taking Tommy’s cold hands and running his thumbs over the backs of them comfortingly. “C’mon, I’ll make you some tea. Techno probably has some biscuits laying around somewhere.”

Tommy’s small smile widened a bit. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. 

Two mugs of tea and half a packet of biscuits later, Tommy was nestled into Phil’s side, knees drawn to his chest again but it was out of comfort not panic. Phil’s wing was wrapped around Tommy’s side, keeping him close to him. His protective avian instincts were raging and mighty. Tommy may not have been his biological son, but he was Wilbur’s adoptive brother, so like hell he was going to let anything happen to him. 

“Are you feeling okay now Tommy?” Phil murmured, softening when the blonde cuddled closer to him.

“Better than before,” he muttered, “good tea.”

“It was one of Wil’s favourites, it always calmed him down.” Phil took the last sip from his mug before placing it on the table beside him. “I’m glad you like it too.”

Tommy hummed a bit, his fingertips lifting to graze along the feathers close to him. Phil silently watched Tommy play with the fluffy ends, softening at the child-like curiosity from the boy. Tommy seemed to zone out as he brushed the feathers edge, his smile lifting as a few skimmed his palm.

It didn't go unnoticed by the avian.

“Are you ticklish Tommy?”

The question seemed innocent but it still made Tommy freeze. He blinked a bit, then turned to look at Phil who was watching him calmly. 

“Wha- What?” He asked, his voice dying out as he spoke. 

Phil chuckled. “Are you ticklish?” he repeated, “You were getting a big ol' smile from touching my wing.”

Tommy’s hands immediately fell into his lap, his cheeks warming at being called out “Maybe a bit,” he admitted, then glared at Phil. “Why? What about it?”

The blonde avian laughed softly, “Nothing,” he hummed.

Tommy narrowed his eyes.

Phil met his gaze and smiled. 

Tommy immediately went to scramble away only for arms to wrap around him and yank him back into Phil’s chest. Large wings swooped around to keep Tommy enclosed in the embrace, the boy himself shrieking in alarm and glee at the playful attack.

“PHIL! What the fuck-?!” he squirmed in the hug, his legs pressed to the soft walls of feathers.

“Not so fast little raccoon boy,” Phil grinned, “admitting to me you’re ticklish and expecting me not to tickle you? Very poor judgement of character I’m afraid.”

His fingers pressed and wormed against Tommy’s sides, the gentle attack making the boy throw his head back with a giggly yelp, squirming against Phil to try and evade the gentle, ticklish touch. 

“Yohohou bihihihitch!” He gasped, trying to wriggle a hand out to smack at Phil’s hands. The embrace the man had him in barely allowed him to shift his arms. “Thihihihis isihihin’t fahahahir!”

“Oh, of course it’s fair. You told me you were ticklish, I gave you time to run and you didn’t. This is your own doing mate,” Phil snickered. “Now tell me, where are you most ticklish, hmm?”

“Ihihihi’m nohohot tehehelling yohou shihihit!”

“Well alright then, guess I’ll find out myself.”

Phil’s feathers ruffled and brushed along Tommy’s neck and ears, his fingers moving to squeeze and prod at the boy’s ribcage. The squeal that tore through the air made Phil cackle, his laughter blending with Tommy’s wild bubbly giggles. 

“PhihIHIHIhihil!” Tommy whined through his giggles, cringing away when a feather managed to brush along the sweet spot on the nape of his neck. 

“Tommy,” Phil hummed, the boy’s laughter easing the worry in his chest from Tommy’s panic attack. 

“Ihihiht- ihihit tiHIHIHickles!” Tommy squealed, Phil’s fingers massaging the soft parts of his sides again.

“Oh does it? You sure?” Phil’s wings pushed against Tommy’s shirt, managing to raise it occasionally to skim soft fluff over the trembling belly. 

Tommy’s laughter went silent as he shrieked, the feathers tickling him terribly and making his skin tingle. The ice cold fear that had been constricting his heart had melted away, the playful tickling and warm atmosphere leaving Tommy feeling safe and at ease. 

The blonde turned and shoved his face into the man’s chest, muffling his squealing giggles and trying not to kick out too much in worry of hurting Phil’s wings. The avian’s hug on his torso and arms prevented him from wiggling away, but Tommy didn’t really want to leave anyway. He’d been overwhelmingly stressed since Dream got out, he needed the moment of peace. 

Phil huffed a laugh, dropping his chin onto Tommy’s head and running his nails along Tommy’s sides and stomach. “Is this helping Toms?” He asked softly. 

Tommy nodded, not wanting to lie and risk having this domestic moment ruined. God, it had been so long since he could let his walls down and just be.

“Yeheheheah,” he giggled into Phil’s shirt, holding the arms hugging him so warmly. “Cohould yohou keeehehep gohoing? Plehease?”

The softly spoken question made Phil melt. He dropped a fatherly kiss to Tommy’s curly hair and scratched lightly at the sensitive spot on the boy’s lower back, smiling at the squeaky giggle that left him. 

“Of course little bird,” he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily. 

He pretended he didn’t notice the embarrassed flush on Tommy’s ears, but his heart was warmed exponentially by the shy grin on the boy’s face.

He was going to protect this boy no matter what. Dream was going to pay once Phil found him.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Synopsis: Heisenberg kidnaps the reader. And she’s pissed about it. And so is he. Turns out there’s a lot more to it than it seems, tw: kidnapping I’m not tagging for violence because it’s less graphic than even the mild stuff in canon. Like reader gets a concussion and a dislocated arm, that’s it.

A/N: first time ever writing for Resident Evil. I haven’t even played the games, only watched a play-through and immediately fell in love with this hobo. Honestly, there’s a lot of room to make a sequel or some more from this but I have commitment issues and it probably won’t happen.

Oh and one last thing! Do you think I should add resident evil: village to my fandoms I write for or no. Let me know please!

             It’s dark in your small cottage, claustrophobic with the way you stumble to the front door as fast as you can. You try to take deep breaths, but you can’t, not with someone chasing you. You cut through the kitchen, and when he reaches out to grab you, you slam the door to a cabinet as hard as you can. You can hear his pained yell.

             “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, (y/n),” he says.

             “I’ll make it as hard as I damn please!” You put your hand on the handle to the front door, twist and right before you manage to open it, a body slams into yours and you hear your arm pop. Loudly. And it burns at the elbow like someone poured gasoline on it and set it on fire.

             You can hear his heavy breathing and feel the warm air on the crown of your head. “You put up a good fight, I’ll give you that much.” He presses his body further into yours, and you feel everything. The toned muscle under a layer of fat, the harsh fabric of his shirt and jacket, and the bulge that presses into the small of your back.

             “You’re so small,” he coos, like he’s talking to a dog, “I can’t wait to break you.”

             You manage to wiggle one arm free and jab him in the side as hard as you can with your elbow. You hear him say oof under his breath, and you take this as the opportunity to press your foot into the door and push back into him as hard as you can, to at least get him to stumble back.

             It doesn’t work, he just leans his whole-body weight on you and uses one hand to smash your head into the door. He could have done it harder, you reckon, but it still hurts like a mother fucker. “Shut the fuck up before I do something I regret.”

             “Like you don’t already regret breaking into my house and trying to kidnap me? Like you don’t regret slamming me into my door and dislocating my elbow? What are you going to do to me that you’ll regret? Huh?”

             He looks down at you through those yellow glasses of his, light from the glass peephole reflecting off of them but his hat shading the rest of his face. “I said shut the fuck up!” He presses your head even further into the door, and your temple digs into the frame. It hurts, and your eyes water from the pain.

             “Who even are you?!” You end up shouting. His grip loosens a little bit, just enough for you to move your head off the door frame and onto the actual door. “I’ve never met you in my goddamn life and you break into my house, say you love me, and try to kidnap me!”

             Something in him breaks, you can tell, the outline of his features look crestfallen. “You don’t know who I am?”

             “No… I don’t. And here you are in my house, chasing me around like I’m some goddamn animal you’re hunting.” Your eyes water. “I know you don’t mean a damn word you said this entire time.”

             “Shut your goddamn trap woman!” His grip on your hair tightens. “I love you and we both know it; I know everything about you.”

             “So, you’re a stalker? Huh, didn’t think I was pretty enough to have one.”

             “I knew you had a mouth on you, and it was attractive till it was pointed in my direction.” His voice is low and gravelly at this point, like a thin string that’s pulled taut and about to snap.

             “Well get used to it you fu-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because a piece of metal from his hammer slams you hard in the face, knocking you out cold.

             When you wake up, it’s hard to open your eyes. It’s too bright and the room is spinning when you move your head up. That must be one hell of a bump on your forehead. You go to feel it, only to find you hands chained up to a metal pipe on the wall. Your feet are too, but that chain is a lot slacker.

             You’re lying down on the floor, a cheap scratchy blanket separating you from rough, worn down cement. It’s still hard and cold, but it didn’t scratch up your skin, so that’s something to be grateful for. You look around the room, only to find an old tv, that’s on, and playing static. That’s what was so bright, you realize.

             Suddenly the noise from the t.v. stops, and you hear a voice. It’s still sounds like static, but it’s audible enough to understand the words and recognize the voice. It’s the same guy who kidnapped you. You don’t really process what he’s saying, it’s just noise to you, and you close your eyes and curl up as best as you can. Maybe you’ll wake up, and everything will be okay.

             “Quit ignoring me girlie.”

             You snap out of your daydreaming. The days of that warm bed and leaky bathroom faucet are over, and this cruel situation is your reality for the time being.

             “Okay. Okay. But just quiet down my head hurts.”

             “I’d be sorry, but you brought that upon yourself,” he says.

             You can’t help but be snarky, you’re tired and already sick of this shit. “I’m sorry you don’t have the self-control to not kidnap people and knock them unconscious via flying pieces of metal.”

             “Touché.” You hear back.

             “Can you at least get me some Tylenol for my head or something.”

             “Why should I? After all the attitude you’ve given me, I should just leave you in there to starve.” Looks like he knows how to be snarky too.

             “Because you were the one who hit me in the head and locked me in here?”

             “Apologize and I’ll consider it.”

             You go back to your curled up position. “I guess I’ll just starve down here then.”

             The t.v. cuts off again, or you just tune him out, just run your hands along the chains to try and find a lock. You find the one attached to your left ankle and begin to plot your escape. Maybe you could pick the lock with a bobby pin? You run your hands through your hair, not only to find that it was down, but all of them were removed.

             You run your hands down your pajama pants. Maybe you have something in your pockets? They also turn up empty.

               “Are you looking for something to pick the lock with?” You hear from the t.v. You turn back to look at it, only to see his face. He’s not wearing his glasses, and he’s taken off his worn-out bucket hat, so you can see his untamed salt and pepper hair. “I took the liberty of searching your person while you were knocked out. I highly doubt you’ll find something to pick the lock with.”

             “You’re an asshole, you know that.” You find yourself saying. To be fair, you probably shouldn’t, considering that he: is holding you hostage, threatening to leave you to starve, and is clearly a psychopath, despite his claims that he loves you.

             “Calm down, you know it makes me upset to see you mad.”

             You can’t help but raise your voice at him. “Quit fucking taunting me! You won this stupid ass game. You kidnapped me! You can come down here and kill me now!”

             “You think I wanna kill you?” He asks, you can tell he’s just as furious as you are. He chuckles lightly. “You know I love you. I did this for your own good! There are people out there. People who want to taint you and your innocence! People who want to hurt you!”

             “I can handle myself just fine! I had before your psycho ass came along and kidnapped me!” Your furious, desperately searching for a weak point on the pipe with your hands while you yell at the t.v.

             “And what would have happened if I didn’t?” He asks you, “lady supersized bitch in the castle would have gotten to you first… I can’t have that.”

             “I’m sorry who?” You ask. Suddenly things have gotten more confusing.

             “I’m not the only one who’s after you,” he clarifies. “You think I’m the one who’s a psychopath, there’s a woman out there who wants to drink your blood and eat your flesh! And monster that wants to drown you and swallow you whole-”

             “Slow down! I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!”

             “Don’t interrupt me! I want what’s best for you!” You can hear him take a deep breath. “I’m going to bring you upstairs and explain everything. And you’re going to behave, am I clear?”

             You just nod your head.

             “Good. Now stop trying to find a weak point on that pipe to get loose before I get down there. It has carbon monoxide in there, you’ll poison yourself before you get to that door.”

             You immediately stop twisting the connector and drop your hands to your sides.

             “Good girl…” His praise makes you want to vomit. “Now stay still while I come get you.”

             When he comes down and opens that iron door and unceremoniously tosses you over his shoulder, you can’t help but comment on it. “Am I a bag of potatoes to you?”

             “Don’t complain, I could be like that Dimitrescu bitch and turn you into wine.”

             You shut up immediately and grasp the back of his coat for balance. You don’t know why, but his empty threats scare you immensely. You watch the hallways blur into one another, trying to see if you can find a window, or an escape rout of some sort, hell, even a vent he couldn’t fit in but you could would work well.

             He smacks your thigh. Not hard, but enough for a slight sting and to get your attention. “We’re in the center of the factory, there’s no need for you to be tracking an escape route, especially because you won’t be leaving any time soon.”

             Eventually, you end up in a small office like space, with a desk, a cork board with several pictures of people on it, and a large grate that leads to a tunnel downwards. He pulls the metal chair out of the corner with his powers and places you in the chair. “Stay.”

             “So…” He turns towards the cork board. “Since your out of town, I’ll explain the run-down-“

             “I don’t really care for the details.” You stand up from the chair and go to walk towards him, but he crosses the room in a second and slams you back down.

             “I told you to stay in that goddamn chair!” He opens his mouth to explain but a whirring noise starts out of nowhere. It’s loud, obnoxious, and coming from the vent. He opens it. “Shut your goddamn trap!”

             “Anyhow, (Y/N),” he starts, “the other three lords decided that they’re interested in you, for whatever their reasons are. I’m assuming they want to kill you.”

             “That’s a veeeeeery extreme assumption.” You roll your eyes, and prop your head on your hands.

             “Well two of them are well know for turning people into dolls and drinking their blood,” he says casually, “it’s only a fair assumption they want to do the same with you.”

             “I’m sorry they what?”

             He turns to you, surprised for a moment that you don’t know what he’s talking about. “Super-sized bitch over here,” a sharp piece of metal lands on the photo of a pale, middle aged woman with bold red lipstick and a black hat, “is one of the other three lords, known for drinking the blood of girls like yourself. Wouldn’t suggest meeting her, she’s not that pleasant.”

             “Known for?”

             “Sort of, most of the towns people don’t know,” he turns to you and leans on the table by the cork board, “they’re too busy worshipping Mother Miranda.”

��            “I’ve heard her name before,” you say, “doesn’t she protect the town?”

             You can sense the anger you caused before you can take it back.

             “That Miranda bitch doesn’t protect anybody from shit. She’s the one causing all the issues, kidnapping people and mutating them, killing them and throwing their lives away like table scraps.” You slams his hand on the table and you visibly flinch. He quickly apologizes.

             “You keep mentioning ‘the other three lords’ how many are there, and who’s the one your excluding in that statement?” You question as soon as you get the chance. He’s talking, loudly, quickly and it’s filling up the space in the room with an anxious sort of white noise.

             “Pardon me,” he says, and waltzes over, almost over-dramatically. He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss. You can feel his stubble and chapped lips on the top of your hand. He desperately needs to use chap-stick. “I’m Heisenberg, one of the four lords, but you can call me Karl.”

             “Okay… Karl.” You test the name out on your tongue. “What are you going to do with me, now that I’m here?”

             He gets down on one knee in front of you, still holding your hand. “Oh (Y/N), I’m going to treat you how you deserve, like a princess.”

[a-detraque-barista]

Zombie Killer

Yandere Zombie Namjoon x Reader

Genre: yandere, gore, zombie, character deaths (but not graphic yet)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: i love this man and i'm so glad i finally finished something with him in it. i hope this wasn't too rushed because i did write the majority of it back in 2019 but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless <3

It's been two years since the zombie apocalypse began. You've been on your own for exactly one year, seven months, and forty-nine days now. Wandering the world as you tried to find a safe haven that wasn't infected with undead cannibals. You don't hide behind doors very often anymore, you've learned it only makes you want to stay inside and rot while trembling in fear. You hated the way fear makes you so vulnerable. Adapting to the outside world was your only option before going insane. Carrying multiple weapons with you made you able to survive much longer than hiding in buildings.

People call you crazy and barbaric because you chose to survive by any means necessary. That's what your best friend had told you before getting bitten. And so, your survival of the fittest instinct kicked in once you shot your best friend in the face. Twice. Ever since then you've been wandering the streets of different cities. If you see a group of zombies then you stay clear. You were a badass zombie killing machine, but you knew when to pick your fights.

You had just sneaked off the ship you stowed away on for the past week. Immediately, you identified the native language here as Korean. Before the outbreak happened you had tried to learn the Korean language. You had only gotten so far in the lessons but you can still make sentences.

Sticking to the shadows you kept your guard up just in case anything tried to attack you. Overall, these streets were deserted and you didn't see or hear any sign of life or even the undead. You spotted a convenience store with the glass of the sliding doors broken. You had to at least look for food, so you headed inside after checking with your shotgun was loaded. You only had two more shells left so you needed to get rid of it now that its weight was holding you back. Stepping silently and diligently, you made your way to the dry food section. The shelves were almost completely bare. There were ramyeon packs left which you quickly put in your bag. You also found chips in another one of the aisles on the floor. You didn't bother looking for water, already knowing that it was long gone. What you did look for was tea. Not everyone knows that it's the second-best thing to drink when there's no water. And as you expected, there were tons of different flavored teas. Grabbing the peach, strawberry, green, and watermelon you made your way out of the store to see a group of masked people walking by.

They spotted you almost immediately as you froze and waited to see what they would do. Your thick black mask covered your face as much as theirs but they had hoods and hats covering their foreheads. No matter if you were a zombie or not most people tried to kill you. You had no idea why maybe it was just their need to be the last and the strongest kicking in.

Then all of a sudden there were five guns pointed at your head. See? All you did was stand there and apparently that's a threat. Pointing your gun at them would only make things worse given that you're outnumbered so you ran. Turning the corner once their guns began to fire, you ended up sprinting through the alleys. Always making sure you turned a corner every chance you got so you couldn't get shot.

You stopped to take a breath as you crouched down while panting. You had to leave your motorcycle behind so it had been a while since you’ve run that far. Hearing a crash further down the alley, you held your shotgun up trying to see what had made the sound. Nothing moved for a while so you slowly backed away and turned around quickly to run but all you found was one of the masked men from earlier.

“We need to go,” you spoke to the man quietly before another crash sounded from behind you. Trying to run past the man, he stopped you and pushed you back toward the alley. Holding his gun aimed at your head.

“Drop it,” you dropped your shotgun. “Walk,” he hissed and you turned back around to see a pair of ivory eyes staring at you.

How did you not notice them before? They stood out so vividly against the dark shadows of the alley. No doubt a zombie, but it wasn’t attacking. You felt the gun in the middle of your back push you towards the flesh-eating monster in front of you. In the blink of an eye, the ivory irises were no longer in front of you and the man behind you was screaming before having his jaw detached from his skull.

This zombie was like no other, it was quick, intelligent, and strong. Hearing the other men approaching, the zombie took your hand into its own and hurried deeper into the alley. Its skin was ice and calloused and bloody from tearing the man’s jaw out. It didn’t necessarily bother you as you were no stranger to blood now. But why was this zombie saving you? It’s not like you could ask, you didn’t know if it still understood speech. It never lets go of your hand until it finally leads you to an abandoned building hidden in plain sight. Leading you to the top floor, you saw a mattress on the ground with a pillow and blanket, a tv, empty plates, a mini-fridge, and even a microwave. It really was intelligent.

It took your arm to have you sit on the mattress as you got a better look at its face. It was...handsome. Even with grayish skin and a few holes. He was stunning. He chuckled after noticing your shell-shocked gaze at his appearance. You’ve never heard a zombie fucking chuckle.

He walked away to the mini-fridge and came back with a bottle of water for you. Now you really had some questions, but you didn’t want to seem rude about asking if he understood what you were saying.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he smiled as he opened the water for you since you took too long. Pushing the bottle closer to you making you accept the water and taking a sip. “You probably haven’t had any water in while. Drink up.”

So you did. You chugged the whole bottle in under a minute as he watched you do so fondly. “What are you?” Okay, so maybe that was a little straightforward and harsh but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“A zombie, obviously. You probably mean why haven’t I eaten you. I can’t really answer that because I don’t know myself. It’s always been this way, ever since I got bitten I mean,” he explained as he stood up and made his way over to the tv to turn it on. “And if you’re wondering why I saved you, it’s because I know those guys can be dicks. They’ve been trying to kill me for months. Ever since they started that little murder group.”

“How did you know I needed help? Were you just passing through that alley?” you questioned while watching him sit back down next to you.

“I’ve been following you this whole time. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I saw you get off the boat and followed you since then,” he explained like it was no big deal. “But it was a good thing I was there when I was. Otherwise, you’d probably be dead, or turned into a zombie.”

He was right. If it weren’t for him, you would either be eaten or left dead on the ground. Was that really an excuse for stalking you this whole time though?

“There’s no need to overthink it, just get some rest.”

Why was he so damn convincing? He was really nice though. “What’s your name?” you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your mouth in time.

“Namjoon. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“What a wonderful name,” his smile caused his dimples to show making you look at the television.

The soft lull of the show made you tired and you could feel your eyelids getting heavier. Namjoon took note of it but said nothing as he wanted you to completely fall asleep. Seeing your head bob a few times he helped lay you down and covered you with the blanket. He set your bag on the floor along with all of your weapons from off your body.

“Sweet dreams, my little zombie killer,” Namjoon whispered as his attention turned back to the show on the screen.

You had woken up to the sound of a thud from outside of the door. You recognized the growling and screeching of a goddamn zombie. Patting your body down, you couldn’t feel any weapons. You looked around to find them next to you on the floor. You quickly picked up your pistol and stood by the door. Waiting for it to come through, once the door opened you shot it. The body fell to the floor only for you to realize it was Namjoon. The actual zombie laid torn apart on the floor behind him. There was no guarantee Namjoon would survive that but usually, you have to shoot them twice.

He didn't move for a while so you crouched down and poked his shoulder. You heard him groan before he propped himself up with his arms. His tainted, dark blood was pooling on the ground under him. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.

"Are-are you okay, Namjoon?" you stuttered as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

The next moment you were on your back with him laying on you. You froze, not knowing what he would do. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, "My name sounds nice when you say it."

You let a shaky breath you were holding before resting your free hand on his back. Feeling the blood seeping through your clothes, you tapped him to have him lift his head. Sure enough, your whole stomach was now covered in his almost black blood.

Namjoon lifted your shirt over your head and stood up to toss it into the corner. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassing worn-out bra but Namjoon tried his best to pretend like he didn’t see anything. Helping you to stand, he brought you over to a large bucket of water and took a rag from it. He was on his knees as he wiped away all of his blood from your skin. He looked up to your cheeks that were a dark red hue and grinned.

“I didn’t expect you to shoot me in the head,” he was only teasing but he wanted to see your reaction.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and you allowed him to clean your stomach off longer than necessary.

“What was that?” Namjoon was having fun giving you a hard time while he finished cleaning up the blood before he gently wiped his face so he wouldn’t tear his dead skin, then he went to get you a clean shirt from the bag he had in the corner.

“You heard what I said,” you grumbled as you snatched the shirt away from him.

You weren’t really good at interacting with people. Through the whole zombie apocalypse thing, you had kind of thrown all of your social skills out the window. You didn’t mean to come off as rude to the one person helping you, but you couldn’t help but get flustered. It’s not like you were going to stay here for long anyway. You needed to get back on the road by tomorrow.

You then began to wonder how long he's been here. But you were also too afraid to ask. That would be being nosy right? You have no idea what he's been through and it might set him off, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

You didn't have time to think about the handsome zombie in front of you. You needed to think about where to go next. Speaking of which, Namjoon had been watching your expressions, wondering what you were thinking about.

His partly deteriorated brain began to wander with questions about you. How long have you been alone? Where were you from? He knew you spoke English but that was no indicator of where you were from. Just look at him, he knew a few languages himself so he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you would be from. Where were you going next? What were you looking for? Who were you looking for? Could it be a lover of yours?

He stopped. Why would he care if you had a significant other? He didn't. Right? Cause it doesn’t matter.

"So, I suppose I should get going," you walked over to your pile of weapons before strapping them and tucking them in their designated places. Since you had a little time to think now, it was decided that you should leave as soon as possible. Just thinking of spending another night in the same four walls terrified you.

“What if the group of masked killers is still around? You’ll need someone to show you the back routes,” Namjoon spoke quickly. He couldn’t understand why he needed to spend more time with you, but he just knew he feared you leaving him. Namjoon did his part in making sure you got somewhere safe off of the boat yesterday. He told himself he would have nothing else to do with you after that, humans never last long anymore.

“I mean...if you want to,” you weren’t going to force someone to venture with you out in the world during the apocalypse. Then again, he was a zombie and couldn’t be killed easily. He could prove to be useful on your trip for whatever distance he’s willing to go. It doesn’t seem like there’s much happening in this abandoned room of his.

All Namjoon did was nod and walk across the room to pack a bag. He decided that there was no way in hell he was going to let you wander around on your own. He doesn’t care how well you can take care of yourself. You needed protecting and that was exactly what he was going to do. He was able to take a shotgun to the head, he will risk his undead life for you.

Namjoon realized where his thoughts were going. Maybe this whole being undead thing was truly affecting his decision-making. He just met you yesterday and he’s willing to die for you? However, all those thoughts disappeared once he turned around and his eyes were set on you once again. As they always should be.

He will keep you safe.

Walking out of the building that Namjoon had been living in for over a year was easier than he thought would be. He heard the peaceful silence of the streets while walking beside you and realized he never took the time to breathe. Figuratively of course. Namjoon wasn’t used to the quiet as he would normally be chased or even in his room he would always have the television on as background noise. Something he felt was needed so he wouldn’t lose his sanity. He began to prefer the quiet more than a constant noise.

You did prefer the quiet, most of the time. There were times where you absolutely hated it. Hated it enough to want to take your knives and dig them into your eardrums so you would go deaf. That type of quiet was the type to have your ears ringing and your breathing sound like you were panting. Even making your heartbeat pound in your ears to attempt to drown out the unbearable silence.

The quiet you loved was broken when a zombie tripped over something metal. Without hesitating, you pulled out your gun and shot it in the head. Your aim has become exceptional since this all started. You slowly approached it and shot it in the head again. You’ve learned to make sure they’re done for by shooting them twice before they could recover.

Namjoon stood there, fascinated by how quickly you reacted. He barely had enough time to notice the zombie before you shot it. You were practically a zombie killing machine. But how many times have you had to fight off these flesh-eating corpses by yourself? God, all he wanted to do was to take all the bad from your life and leave only the good. He had been lonely and at first, scared. He could only imagine how you felt at the beginning of all of this and learning to survive through it. He truly wanted to help you. And he will.

✄ ✄ ✄

It took about an hour and a half to weave through the alleys and side streets to avoid the group that was hunting for any walking being that was and wasn’t minding their own business. Finally, the two of you were out of the city and you found an SUV in acceptable condition. You hot-wired it and waited until Namjoon climbed in to start driving down the deserted country road.

The absence of zombies had made it easy for you and Namjoon to get away. Somehow, one of the stations on the radio was working so that's what you opted to listen to for now. It was a song that sounded familiar but you couldn't remember where you had heard it. Namjoon had suddenly asked a question that caught you a little off guard.

"Do you like these guys?" his voice was even for the most part but it seemed he wanted a certain answer.

"I'm not sure who this is exactly. The song sounds familiar though," hopefully you gave the right response. If there was a way to trigger something in him to make him turn completely into a cannibalistic undead monster, you didn't want to find it.

“They’re - sorry, they were called BTS. Making their way to the top of the world,” you could hear the sadness in Namjoon’s voice that was no doubt about to crack from the strong emotion he was feeling.

“You were a part of that group, weren’t you?” you asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the road, occasionally glancing behind you in the review mirror.

Namjoon let out a small, saddened chuckle as he nodded, “Yeah, I was.”

You remembered watching them answer questions before one of the award ceremonies that your mother always insisted on watching. They seemed so close and genuinely nice even as they were asked dumb, demeaning inquiries.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing you could say.

“It’s okay, I know that the three who were able to escape are out there somewhere,” he sniffled, how that worked, you didn’t really know but ignored it as his words sunk in.

“May...I ask what happened?” hopefully you wouldn’t regret your words.

He let out a humorless laugh once again, “Long story short, we walked right into the lion’s den without knowing it. It was when the outbreak first began. Couple dozen of ‘em, easily, surrounded us, and while the three were able to escape...the other four of us weren’t so lucky.” He took a deep breath that wasn’t able to allow him the same stabilizing feeling as it once did, before continuing, “I was the only one who was still able to function as a normal human. Even though my heart was no longer beating and my lungs were longer deflating and inflating. The rest were just like the other mindless cannibals looking to eat people.”

You could see that he had tears in his fog-like eyes. Suddenly, you had a thought, “What if we went looking for the other three of your friends?”

The idea was bizarre even to you, but you won’t take it back. If there were more people out there, why wouldn’t you try to find them? You had no problem with joining other people, as long as they had no means of harming you or your newfound friend. Even if y

“You would do that? For us?”

“...Yes. Just tell me what kind of places they would go, and I’ll help you get there. To be with your friends once again,” you couldn’t save your family and friends but maybe you can help save his.

[fallout4reactsblog]

What if a sole survivor that’s a teenager(like 14-16 years old) begins to view the companions and faction leaders as parental figures, before slipping up and accidentally calling them “mom” or “dad”? Just a thought.

Ada: “Ah, shit.”

Sole patted themself down, checking their pockets, before sighing. “I knew I should’ve taken the time to skin those mole rats.”

“Is something missing?”

Curious, Ada leaned over to check the project they were working on. They slid to the side to accomodate her.

“I just don’t have enough leather to finish my armor mods. I wanted to put some pockets in my chestplate so I could carry a couple extra rolls of duct tape, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Leather?”

She checked back through her mental inventory, sizing up what she was carrying. Enamel bucket, ashtrays, pack of cigarettes...

“Ah, here we are.” She pulled out a baseball glove and handed it over. “Will this suffice?”

“Oh, yeah, this is perfect!” They beamed. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime.”

If either of them noticed sole’s little slip-up, neither of them said a thing.

Cait: Sole reminded her too much of herself, some days. She knew their jaded expression, their thousand-yard stare, the haunted look of a kid who’d seen more than they should have. She knew more about them than they’d probably like, which was how she knew to stop them before they could do something they’d regret in the long run.

“No chems,” she said, plucking the canister of X-Cell out of their hands before they could get too close a look at it. It still felt dusty from its years laying in a Concord Speakeasy, and she wiped her hand on her pants.

“I know,” they huffed, rocking back on their heels. “I was just looking.”

“Well, don’t.” She tucked it into a back pocket, making a mental note to either toss it in the closest river or sell it first chance she got.

“It’s not like anything bad can happen from just looking at it, Cait. I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“You better not have been. If you start doin’ that shite-”

“I know.” Somehow, their tone remained patient. “I promised I wouldn’t do chems, and I won’t, okay, Mom?”

The breath left her like she’d been sucker punched. For a moment, all she could do was stand there, eyes wide, unable to form a thought, much less words. Was it really like that? Had she really let things go this far? How long until she ended up like-

“I mean, uh, Cait.”

She glanced up to see their face beginning to turn red, and they ducked their head.

“Sorry, it just slipped out. I don’t, I mean, I didn’t-” They huffed. “Sorry. I know you don’t want to be a parent or anything, and I don’t mean that you should, I just...”

They prattled on nervously, as if trying to comfort both of them, words going right past Cait’s head. To think sole thought of her as a mother. She couldn’t have that responsibility. Her parents had been trusted with a child, and look how she’d turned out. She couldn’t take that risk, not with sole, not when at any moment some switch could flip inside her and she’d turn into the monsters that had raised her.

She’d known this was a bad idea, right from the start.

Codsworth: “I was thinking about putting another mod on my pistol today,” they said, hunched over the kitchen table. They were poking at some circuit board or another, something that they’d never have been allowed to touch before the war. He eyed the screwdriver in their hands warily.

“A fine idea,” he said, resigning himself once again to the fact that a new world meant a new way of life for mum and sir’s child. “Perhaps a larger magazine?”

They chewed their lower lip thoughtfully, tightening a screw. “I was thinking something more quick-eject, you know? Speed in battle and all.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“The only reason I hadn’t done it was I needed some more adhesive. But since Carla stopped by again and she had some duct tape, we should be set.”

“As I recall, Miss Carla had more than enough for an extra set of sights as well. You asked me to remind you when you had enough material for a large scope, and by my measure, you should be there now.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.” They nodded thoughtfully. “We can get that old hunting rifle in working order again. Thanks, Dad.”

He froze. Dad? Him? No, that wasn’t right. But they’d said it so casually, as if they hadn’t even realized they were saying it. Surely, they couldn’t have forgotten sir already. They’d had years with him as their father. Such things couldn’t be forgotten so easily.

“Sole.” He tried not to make his tone sound warning.

They, too, seemed to have realized what they’d said, ears beginning to turn red. “Sorry, Codsworth. I was just working and not thinking about it, and-”

“It’s alright. Such slip-ups happen, after all! We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t become a habit. After all, I’m simply the family Mr. Handy. Hardly a father. I wouldn’t want to take sir’s place.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

“No need for apologies! We’ll simply call this a learning moment, for both of us.”

They sighed, “Sounds fair,” and returned to their work.

Curie: “You have your stimpaks, yes?”

They patted a pocket. “Got ‘em right here.”

“And your bandages?”

“In my bag.”

“Extra ammunition?”

They sighed. “Stop fussing, Mom. I told you, I’ve got everything I need.”

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. That was certainly an... interesting choice of words. 

“You see me as a maternal figure?”

“What?” They adjusted the straps on their bag, refusing to make eye contact.

“You referred to me as your mother. I am simply curious when you began to perceive me in such a role.”

“I don’t.” Their cheeks flushed, and they turned away further. “I didn’t call you ‘Mom,’ either.”

“Oh, but there is no need to be embarrassed! It is only natural for such things to happen. Your brain is still maturing, and as the primary provider of such maternal care in your life, it is predictable that you would-”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.” They turned hastily to the door. “I’ll see you in a few days, Curie.”

“Certainly. Au revoir.”

As she watched their retreating back, she let herself consider the happy hum in her chest. Did she want to be sole’s mother? Was it that she wanted to be their mother specifically, or was there simply a general maternal instinct that was now surfacing? It was intriguing that such an instinct could exist in her, since she could never have children, but perhaps there was some lingering Ms. Nanny instinct that was affecting her. No matter what, it was certainly interesting.

If sole saw her as a maternal figure, she’d do her best to provide.

Danse: He found sole leaning against a wall, panting. There was blood splattered across their armor, gun dangling loosely from their fingers, but they were smiling, which was good enough for him.

“You look exhausted,” he said.

They laughed a little and smeared some of the blood from their cheek. “That was quite the fight. We should’ve brought some backup, huh?”

He glanced over at the scribe Quinlan had sent along, who had been of even less use than he’d expected, but decided to let that go and focus on sole. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You fared quite well on your own, and for your level of training your performance was impressive.”

Their eyes flicked over to meet his. “For real?”

“I would never lie to you, especially in your field evaluation. You’ve come a long way.”

He caught a hint of their smile before they ducked their head. “Thanks, Dad.”

He paused, sucking in a breath. While it wasn’t an uncommon mistake, it wasn’t one he was exactly willing to overlook. Still, best to approach things tactfully to avoid embarrassment for them. “What was that?”

They wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What was what?”

The scribe, tapping at the terminal, decided that was his moment to be useful. “You called Paladin Danse ‘Dad.’”

“No, I didn’t. I said, ‘Thanks, Danse.’”

He allowed himself a smile. “I didn’t know you saw me as a father figure, sole.”

“I don’t.” Still, their flush of embarrassment betrayed them.

He waved a hand through the air. “It’s alright, Knight. You wouldn’t be the first to refer to their sponsor as Mom or Dad, and I sincerely doubt you’ll be the last.”

Really, they were a good kid. Young initiates usually tended to find a substitute parental figure in the ranks, and of all sole’s options, he was glad it was him. He could keep them on the right track, make sure they didn’t go astray. With any luck, they could probably take his position someday. 

All in all, this was a good thing for both of them.

Deacon: “Deeks, how does this jacket look on me?”

He glanced up from the hats in Fallon’s Basement to see sole tugging on the sleeves of a leather jacket. It was a bit rough around the edges, but it was just worn enough that he could believe it had seen some action. It wasn’t really their style, though; Agent Whisper tended more toward a softer kind of spy work, based more on charisma and less on punching people in the face.

“I like it,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “It’s a new look for you.”

“I was thinking I should add a more badass disguise to my collection. Try for that intimidation factor every once in a while, you know?”

He tossed the idea around a moment before agreeing. “We could make it work. It’d need practice, though, and some other accessories.”

“We could go get a bat from Mo while we’re here.”

“Now you’re talking. You put a couple nails in that sucker, and boom. You’re halfway to badass city right there. We’ll just have to teach you how to actually use it so you don’t stab yourself by accident.”

“Yeah, sure, but you’ll teach me, right, Dad?”

He nearly choked. Shit. Did sole know something he didn’t? No, that couldn’t be true. He’d never had kids, despite how much Barbara wanted them. Plus, sole had known their father. He’d seen the body, still half in cryo in 111.

That left the fact that sole had come to see him as a father figure, which left him in the awkward position of either shutting that down, probably hurting their feelings in the process, or just letting it slide. But could he even consider the latter? He couldn’t be a father, not in this state. He couldn’t lie every other word and still consider himself a decent parental influence, now could he?

Still, that voice in the back of his head nagged, “Barbara would want you to say yes. She thought you’d be a good dad.”

“Deeks?”

They looked at him quizzically, obviously still looking for an answer.

He sighed and, just this once, gave in. “Sure, kid. I’ll teach you how. It’s not that much different from their intended use, really...”

Desdemona: She always had a certain fondness for sole’s reports. She never got to hear much about the missions, just a quick affirmation of success and not much else. Sole, though, sole always told her a story, starting from the beginning and highlighting anything that they thought was interesting.

“But, you know, they’re just raiders,” they said, twenty-some minutes after they’d started. “In the end, H2 got where he needed to go. Highrise will take it from here.”

She smiled and ruffled their hair, making them laugh. “Good work, agent. You’re making all of us proud.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

They froze immediately, realizing what they had said, but their moment of embarrassment was cut short by Tom’s sigh of relief.

“Finally! You know how long we’ve been waiting for this? You took so long to join the club.”

Glory caught sole’s look of confusion and added, “Everyone calls Dez ‘Mom’ at some point. It’s basically a rite of passage.”

They looked to Dez for affirmation, and she could only nod. 

“It’s true. It happens to everyone, sooner or later. I’m more than used to it by now.”

“You sure?” they asked, voice still hesitant.

“Positive. The only one that hasn’t is PAM, and she doesn’t have the capability.”

“Give her time,” Tom said. “She’ll get there.”

Gage: “You’re being stupid,” he snarled.

They glared back with surprising intensity. “You’re being a prick. You said yourself, I’m the Overboss. Things go how I want them to.”

How they’d managed that little trick, he didn’t know, but he hated it more and more every day. “Bein’ the Overboss doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to anyone. You’re still new here. You better show me some respect.”

“Oh, fuck off, Dad,” they snapped.

That only pissed him off more. “What did you just call me, you little shit?”

They blinked, anger seeming to cool for a second. “Gage. What else?”

“No, you called me Dad.” His temper settled in return, hovering at a simmer. “Like this is some sort of family reunion or some shit.”

They snorted. “As if.”

“Don’t try and take it back now. I heard you.”

“You’re old and losing your hearing. Old fucker.”

His temper flared again, and despite that he knew they were baiting him, he couldn’t resist. “What was that?”

“What, I need to enunciate everything for you? Do you need your hearing aids, Grandpa?”

“What the fuck is a hearing aid?”

“What do you think, dumbass? It lets you hear better when you get old and lose your hearing. Like you.”

A knock on the door interrupted what he was going to say, and he snapped his mouth closed with irritation.

“Overboss?” The voice was muffled through the door. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” They dusted their hands on their pants, anger instantly melting into a mask of cold determination. “Come on, Gage. Work to do.”

He huffed and resolved they would finish this later.

Hancock: He was always impressed with how well sole handled Goodneighbor. It went to show that they were much tougher than their age and pre-war softness let on; that this kid who looked like they’d never even handled a gun would shoot you without question if threatened. He’d seen how they’d handled Finn.

“Cold today,” they said, blowing into their hands. “This wind is killer. You wanna head inside and check up on things while I barter here?”

They gestured in the general direction of KLEO’s shop, and he chuckled. 

“I dunno. Maybe the big, bad mayor better stick around to make sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble.”

They rolled their eyes. “Come on, Dad. I can handle myself, you know.”

They realized their mistake before he did, eyes widening, jaw snapping shut. He faltered, snappy words dying in his mouth before he got hold of himself again. Dad? Were they kidding? Their face said they weren’t.

“Woah, now.” He held up his hands. “It ain’t like that, kid. I’m not exactly the fatherly type, y’know. Cool uncle, maybe, but I ain’t anybody’s Dad.”

They huffed, clearly embarrassed, and diverted him by saying, “Bet you’ve been more than one somebody’s Daddy, though.”

“That’s more like it.” He nudged them in KLEO’s direction. “You go do your shopping, and I’ll go make sure they ain’t burnin’ down my town while I’m away.”

“Sure. If I’m not here when you get back, I’ll be in Hotel Rexford.”

“Sounds fine. Get me somethin’ nice while you’re at it, huh?”

“Alright, but I’m charging you a convenience fee.”

Content that they were back on the same page, he agreed and went to find Fahrenheit.

MacCready: “Your fever’s gone down a little.” He rested a hand against their forehead. “Seems you’re gonna pull through.”

They smiled a little, eyes still hazy with sickness and medicine. Soon, they’d be on their feet again, he hoped.

“I bet you’re a good dad, Mac,” they said. “Duncan must really love you, huh?”

He let out a sigh. Sole had been strangely emotional ever since they got sick, which had annoyed him at first, but lately he’d just come to accept it. After all, there wasn’t much he could do about it, was there?

“Jeez, I don’t even know if he remembers me. It’s been a while since I got to see him.”

“He remembers you. I mean, I remember my dad, and he’s been dead for a couple hundred years now, I guess.” They laughed a little, as if they’d said something funny. “But you should go see him. Take a break. I’ll be fine without you.”

“Nah, we’ll go together. After all, he’ll probably want to meet you.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. He’ll probably see you as some kind of adopted older sibling or something. You’ll get along.”

They exhaustion in their laugh betrayed them. “Sure, whatever you say, Dad.”

There was a wryness in their voice, an almost mocking note that told him they’d meant it as a joke, but long after they’d fallen asleep, he sat at their bedside, watching them. He’d thought he was joking, too, but now that he was along with his thoughts, he had to wonder. Maybe he did want them to meet Duncan, and maybe he did want them to get along like siblings. Could he do that? Was that wrong?

He sighed and rose from his chair. No use worrying about it now. Sole had probably been joking about him going to DC anyway. After all, there was work to be done here.

They definitely weren’t going anywhere until they were better, though. For now, he had to focus on making sure they pulled through.

Maxson: He watched them across the table as they studied the map of the Commonwealth spread between them. It was a crude battle plan, mostly consisting of bottlecaps and buttons, but it was enough for them to discuss. He found he was regularly impressed by their knowledge in this area; in many ways, they reminded him of himself at that age.

“What if we swung south?” They pushed three bottlecaps across the table. “The way C.I.T is set up makes anything but a direct assault difficult, but we could try to split their forces, or at least their fire.”

He hummed, considering. “You’re still assuming we can’t assemble Prime in time.”

“Right. I’m concerned they’ll force our hand before we’re ready. We need to be prepared for that.”

“If you hope to split their fire, we’ll have to split our forces. That means we’ll need more men overall and be pulling more away from the airport, leaving us vulnerable.”

They scrunched their face as they thought about it. “You’re right, but in these circumstances we’re already at a disadvantage, don’t you think? We’re outgunned and outmanned.”

“Both of which can be overcome by outplanning them.” He leaned back in his chair. “What you lack in physical strength can often be overcome with mental acuity.”

They glanced away from the diorama to look at him. “That’s pretty good advice. Nice one, Dad.”

He felt his heart skip a beat. They had already returned to the diorama, now considering the forces around the airport, but he suddenly couldn’t focus. Sole considered him a father figure. Did he mean that much to them that he was someone they looked to for guidance, not just on the Prydwen, but in all aspects of their life? To be a father to them, to be able to guide them, was more than he could have ever asked for.

He cleared his throat. “I believe you mean ‘Elder,’ Knight.”

“Hm?” They looked up again.

“You referred to me as something else. I’m reminding you that the proper title is ‘Elder.’“

“Oh. My apologies, Elder. It won’t happen again.”

He sighed. “I ask that you’re careful around the others. That is all.”

They nodded, mind clearly already on other things.

Nick: He watched them poke around Earl Sterling’s apartment, careful eyes taking everything in. He lingered by the doorway, letting them do their thing, curious to see how it would play out. He was taking a bit of a risk letting them work the case, but he figured he could clean up any mistakes they made along the way.

Mistake number one was probably letting them pick up all those beers, but he figured as long as he watched them sell them all, it would be fine.

“Aha!”

Triumphant, they emerged from where they had crouched on the floor, brandishing a piece of paper.

“Find somethin’?” He flicked his cigarette to the side, nudging it out with the toe of his boot.

“Some sort of receipt, I think. Facial reconstruction with Dr. Crocker. Appointment date... should have been sometime around his disappearance.”

“That means ol’ Doc could’ve been the last to see Earl alive.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Good work, kid.”

They flushed with pride and perhaps a bit of embarrassment at the praise. “Thanks, Dad.”

He raised an eyebrow, hoping they would realize their mistake on their own, but they were busy tucking the receipt into their bag. It seemed as though they hadn’t noticed at all, and after a moment of thought, he decided not to mention it. After all, there was no need to embarrass them. They’d realize what they’d said eventually.

Plus, it was kind of nice, in a way.

Piper: “You’ve got ink on your face.”

Sole glanced up from the freshly-printed edition of the paper, fingers wandering to their cheekbone. “Here?”

“Little to the left.”

“Here?”

“Less to the left.”

“Here?”

“Oh, just hold still.”

She leaned over, wiping the ink off their cheek with her thumb. It smeared a little bit, but was a marked improvement, and she scrubbed the rest away with the heel of her glove.

“There you go. Good as new.”

They nodded and returned their attention to the paper. “Thanks, Mom.”

They seemed to realize immediately, eyes widening, and Piper felt a sharp pain in her chest. 

“Aw, Blue, you know I’m not really...”

They visibly deflated. “I know. I’m sorry, Piper.”

“Not like that.” She leaned forward, putting her coffee to the side. “I’m not upset by it. I’m just not that kind of person, that’s all. I’m like your older sister, not your Mom. I wouldn’t want to replace her. It’s not a big deal, just, you know, get it in your head.”

“Older sister?” That seemed to perk them up a bit, and she smiled.

“Yeah. You’re still part of the family, Blue. Just not like that.”

They smiled. “I guess I’ll take it.”

Preston: The first sign was always the quiet. Sole wasn’t likely to stay quiet for too long; they were always listening to the radio, humming or singing along. When it was quiet for too long, that usually meant they’d either wandered off without telling him, which was never good, or they’d fallen asleep somewhere.

Sign two was the glow of a lantern at the workbench. It wasn’t uncommon for them to work late into the night, but that was always accompanied by the sound of work: the screech of metal on metal, the hum of an engine, the rattling of loose hardware in its drawers. 

Quiet and light together meant they’d fallen asleep at the workbench. Again.

“Sole.” Gently, he shook their shoulder. “Come on. You can’t sleep here.”

They sat up, bleary-eyed, a sheet of orange plastic cut from a pumpkin stuck to their cheek. Almost unseeing, they looked up at him with a sleepy, questioning hum.

“Come on.” Gently, he pulled at their arm.

“Sorry, Dad.” They rubbed their eyes, rising on unsteady feet. “I’m going.”

A smile crept to his face as he led them across the Sanctuary street to their home, making sure they got settled. Almost instantly, they were asleep again, long hours of hard living catching up to them all at once. Quietly, he closed the door behind him.

It was too good to be true. They were just tired, and mistook him for their father in the dark. But still, a part of him wanted to believe that it was possible. Maybe he could be a father to sole. He could show them how to make it here, in this unfamiliar world, and support them as they grew into the General he knew they could be.

Maybe, just maybe, they would let him.

X6: He watched them pace back and forth in front of the door, coat tails swirling with every pivot. They adjusted their lapels for the fifth time, sighed, and glanced around for a clock.

“It’s only four twenty-five,” he said. “You’ve still got twenty-five minutes.”

They sighed and sank heavily into a chair. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

They groaned and dropped their head onto the table. “You said it was thirty minutes to go, like, an hour ago.”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

He set his gun on the table with a sigh and set his sunglasses beside them. “If you keep worrying about it, you’ll only work yourself up more, and the time will seem to pass slower. Your best move would be to get a cup of coffee and relax.”

“I can’t relax.” They leaned back in their chair. “It’s my first meeting as the director. Half of the Institute already hates me because I’m so young, so if I mess this up I’ll be out on the street by dawn. This is no time to relax.”

“If you don’t relax, you’ll be more likely to make a mistake.”

“I know, but it’s easier said than done, Dad.”

He blinked. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them properly, but his hearing was beyond satisfactory. If he’d heard it, they’d said it, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Case in point. You’re upset, you make mistakes. Like that.”

They sank their head into their hands. “You’re right. I’ll- I’ll get some coffee. Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. Humans make mistakes, after all.”

[downywrites]

“It’s payback time.”

Hello there, folks. It is I, a bird. With a keyboard. Bird says hi. Enjoy fic. (Please note-there is swearing.)

The sound of hooves clopping loudly on the cold castle floor echoed as Schlatt weaved through the long corridors. His heart pumped loudly in his ears as he tried to gain speed as much as he physically could without slipping on the smooth stone. He heard the sound of feathers rustling behind him, making him speed up his gait more in a feeble attempt to escape from his pursuer. “Leave me alone, you piece of shit! We’re adults, you bird-brained idiot!” 

The pursuer in question chuckled as he pursued, his feet hitting the floor much more gently than the cloven-hooved man. “Adults still have fun too, you know~ Come here, Schlatt!” He called, signature wings tucked close to his body to increase his running speed. Schlatt’s eyes widened and he screeched to a halt right before hit a wall. He searched frantically for an exit, cursing quietly under his breath. “Out of all the areas in this godforsaken castle, I had to find the one area with no exits? What the fuck is this castle made for, just to confuse people?” 

He turned to see King Philza, ruler of the Arctic Kingdoms, standing at the only hallway exit, wings spread menacingly. “Heya, Schlatt. How ya doing, mate?” He ignored the winged hybrid, trying to run past him in a desperate bid to escape. Philza used his wings to block his path, pushing him down smoothly. “Gotcha.” He pinned his arms with one hand. He immediately started tickling Schlatt’s sides, poking and pinching firmly. Schlatt burst into instantaneous laughter, curling in on himself and bleating angrily at him. “Yohohohou fuhuhuhucking bihihihitch of a bihihihird!”

 He struggled and bucked, trying to escape him. Philza ignored his swears and curses, tickling at his tummy and sides with his wing tips. “Tickle, tickle, little ram boy. So cute!” “Ihihihi’m nohohot cuHUHUTE!” He was so focused on his tickling techniques, so intent on his goals, that he had loosened his grip ever so slightly on his hands. Schlatt grinned. He pulled at his hands in one quick jerk, slipping out of his grip and grabbing where blindly at where his wings protrude. As he clutched and squeezed, soft and hard muscles squishing gently under his fingers, Philza stopped tickling him with a loud squawk. He tried reaching for his hands, then at his arms, but it was already too late to stop him. He rolled them over, still massaging Philza’s wings roughly. “This is what you get for being such an unruly prick of a ruler!” He risked letting go of his wings to scratch quickly at his melt spot, in the hopes of weakening the hardcore warrior. It had the desired effect- Philza loosened up a bit, his laughter going up an octave in turn. “Ehahaha, Schlahahatt, nohoho!” 

“Schlatt, yes! Revenge, motherfucker!” He continued teasing and scratching at the bird man’s melt spot, until his wriggling and squirming had all but subsided. He looked into his dazed and tickled-silly eyes, smirking. “Is that all you could do? I think you can do better than that, birdie.” An idea popped up in his head, his ears flicking in excitement. “So, little birdie, do you think your little ‘dungeon’ would be helpful? I mean, nobody goes down there anyways. Perfect for us~” He sing-songed, grabbing and hoisting the bird man over his arm, with a bit of a struggle.

 As he walked to the dungeon entrance, he continued to tease and prod at his melt spot, making sure Phil didn’t awaken from his ticklish daze. The man in question barely attempted to escape from him, making small little huffs and calls in between his laughter. As they descended into the barely-used ‘dungeon’, Philza began to put two and two together. He started squirming on his shoulder, protesting weakly under his breath. However, the ram wasn’t as weak as he looked, keeping him on his shoulder with ease. Once he reached a good room, he let go of him, letting him tumble to the ground unceremoniously. Philza attempted to escape, only to fall back to the ground with a squeak as Schlatt scribbled over one of his feet as he crawled on the floor. Schlatt grasped one of Phil’s ankles, pulling him onto an interrogation table with both hands. He flipped the bird man over, attaching restraints and chains with resounding clicks and clinks. At this point, Philza was genuinely struggling to escape, but try as he might, the bonds held firm. He looked over his shoulder in slight fear, but his wings blocked the view. He cursed his anatomy, not willing to unfold his wings and give Schlatt the advantage. 

“So, Philza.” Schlatt’s booming voice made him flinch, wings tightening in their folded position. “Not so kingly now, huh? I ain’t a real citizen here, ya know. To all of your maids and butlers, all I am is a tiny little ram you keep as a pet.” He dug his fingers into one of his folded wings, rubbing at the down underneath. “That means that they’d never, ever believe that your little rammy would ever be able to truss you up like a prize pig, eh? Speaking of pigs.” He traced little shapes over his captive’s wings, delighting in the way that they shivered under his touch. “I think Techno’s out and about, isn’t he? I don’t think he, or any of your sons, for that matter- are going to come to your aid. It’s just me and you now. Any regrets?” 

Phil, for good measure, was already giggling and hiccuping, squirming in his bonds as if that would change a thing. “Nohoho, plehehease! Schlahahatt!” “Please? Nah, I don’t think so. This is too good of an opportunity to give up, hm?” He drew a little face in his feathers, leaving them ruffled in his wake. Schlatt dragged his hands from the king’s wings down to his sides, tasering him. He watched the royal’s face contort into a forced-back smile, grinning evilly. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end, Philee? Coochie, coochie coo, my king~” 

Philza whimpered slightly at the baby talk, blush burning brightly on his face. “N-no, Schlatt...nohohoho bahahaby tahahalk!” He shook his head, his bucket hat shifting dangerously on his head. Schlatt saw this and, with a dramatic flourish only the ram could muster for such a foolish thing, he scooped it up, placing it on his head haphazardly. “Whoopie, I’m the king now! Bow to your ruler, Phil…. Oh wait, you can’t.” 

He dug his fingers back into his side, squeezing at the closest hip. The reaction was instantaneous. Phil bucked and arched his back, wings extending out like a black curtain to either side of him. “EhEEE! GihihiHIve mehIHI MiHIhi hahahat bahahack!” He snorted at that, balancing the hat precariously on one of his curling horns. Quickly taking advantage of the outspread wings, he dug his fingers into the inside of one, making sure that he dug deep enough into the feathers to poke at the muscle beneath. Once he had done so, he raked through the feathers, dragging his fingers over the sensitive muscles roughly. The bird hybrid tugged desperately at the chains, laughter making his whole body quiver like a worn-out violin. The wings themselves trembled, attempting to fold back in and away from the ram. He grabbed at the wing he was stroking, holding on to the crook of the wing firmly. “Oh no you don’t, you fucking pigeon.” He chortled at the feeling of the feathers fluffing up in annoyance underneath his hand. “IHIHI’M A EHEHEHAGLE, YOHOHOHOU FUHUHUCK!”

 Schlatt ignored him in favor of digging his fingers deeper into his feathers. The king squawked, flapping his trapped wing and dislodging the other hybrid’s hands. He retracted them fully, tightening them so much they shook slightly with the effort. Ram ears flicked in annoyance, and Schlatt huffed a bit, stomping his hoof slightly at the recalcitrant lee. “Why, you little-” His eyes drifted to the king’s exposed back, and he rubbed his hands together, chuckling darkly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Phil’s feathers stand on end in alarm, which made him even more certain of his next move. He strode over to the other side of him, hooves making loud clopping noises as they struck the floor. “Hey Phil? I always wondered why you had such an exposed back on all of your clothes. After all, weren’t you oh so very ticklish there?” He dragged one finger up his spine, delighting in the little shivers and nervous giggles he got in response. “But now that I’ve been in your shoes, worn your crown, I think I’ve found out why, oh great king of the Arctic.” 

He reached the small of his back, rubbing circles just around the melt spot teasingly. He leaned to the side, whispering into his ear. “I think this great king, the powerful warrior, yearns to be wrecked. Tickled until he can’t speak. He wants someone to rub and tease at his wings until he can’t breathe, can’t call for help. You love this, don’t you? You should give up on escaping, Philza. You’re mine.” He growled the last words, delighting in the way the warrior startled from his sudden tone change. 

Philza whimpered loudly under him, pulling one wing over his face in embarrassment. “Y-yohohohou…” His whole body shook with the effort of not bursting into hiccupy laughter from the circling. His eyes pricked with tears. If he wasn’t chained down the way he was, he would’ve wiped them off in annoyance. A good king should never cry in front of their subjects. Then again, was Schlatt a subject? I mean, he did essentially just wander in with Tubbo at his heel. They- 

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by a hand ghosting over the muscles of his back, the anticipatory giggles escaping from his mouth before he could stop them. Schlatt growled playfully, mimicking the emperor’s favored form of informing his sons of his mood. He started counting down, fingers wiggling just barely over the king’s shivering back. “10, 9, 8, 7…” As the countdown got closer and closer to zero, Phil got more and more nervous and giggly. He pushed the wing covering his face more into his mouth, effectively muffling his giggles. Schlatt frowned at that. “5..nah, that’s enough.” He started roughly scribbling all over his back, pinching and scritching at the base of his wings. He marvelled at the texture of the downy seams there. It was perfectly soft, similar to the feeling of a downy, silky pillow’s innards. 

Philza’s wings flicked open fully, unable to resist the instinctual reaction. He shrieked, tears pricking at his eyes again. “EEEEAAAHAHAHA hic SCHLAHAHAHAHAT! NAHAHAHA- hic NOHOHOHOHO!” He bucked and squirmed, only to force Schlatt’s hands deeper into the sensitive plumage. The ram hybrid in question continued his onslaught, poking and prodding at every spot that made his laughter hitch up a notch. Soon enough, there were genuine tears rolling down Phil’s face. 

At this point, the bird hybrid’s blush had reached his ears and down to his collarbone, tinting the lighter flesh a tanned pink. His wings had all but gone limp, hanging gently over the edge of the table and flapping gently when he gained enough energy to. Schlatt ignored the signs of his subject’s stamina flagging, choosing instead to mess with more areas around and slightly below the back. Once he heard his hiccups cease, however, he finally slowed to a stop, letting the winged man rest. He watched Phil’s chest rise and fall in shallow, stuttering heaves, before deciding to flip the man over. He placed him back in the cuffs, about to lock the last one in, only for Phil to grab onto his hand tightly. 

He flicked his ears back, scared of the punishment he knew the emperor could bring upon him, but the only thing he felt was a small, unsteady circle on the meat of his thumb. He looked down to see a panting, smiling, tear-stained face, as regal and poised as he was undone by the rough tickling. “Schlahahatt, Ihihihi’m ahahalright.” He grinned widely at him, wings opening slightly from behind him. Schlatt looked at him, unsure. What if this was a trick? A ruse? If he manages to get me down here, he might execute me. I’ve never had to deal with a fucktard ruler like him before. He shook his head, moving to undo the restraints before he got into a deeper pile of shit. The king’s hand tightened, making him gasp from the sheer strength behind it. Didn’t this man just get wrecked?

 Philza’s voice echoed in the room. “Schlahahatt. Ihihi.. Ihihi wahahant thihihis.” He looked back just in time to see Phil avert his eyes, blushing again from his intense (and confused) gaze. He looked at his form, simply admiring how weak and vulnerable he looked in the bonds. He was so used to seeing this very same form sitting on his throne, helping people with their work, being kind and caring in every manner to the people of the Arctic Empire. He had seen him in many a fight in the castle, wings out and spread like a living cape, sword shining like a beacon of hope in the darkness of night. He had listened to his booming voice, powerful and noble, yet rustic and warm with the sweet undertones of honey. He had seen it all from afar, heard of his deeds far and wide, long before he ever set hoof in the area. And here he was, holding such power and control over such a noble warrior, the one whose wings could reach the sun. For once in his life, he could not find a single snarky word to say, not a single thing to do. He could not move and break this peace, yet this man, the king with many names, had beckoned him forward to finish the job. He felt as if he were the one vulnerable and at someone’s mercy, not as if he was the one holding the rope. 

He stepped forward robotically, closing and securing the last shackle. He stepped back, looking straight into the king’s confident, sky blue eyes. “A-are you sure I can do this to you, your majesty?” He managed to croak out, ears flicking nervously. He nibbled a tiny bit at the skin on his knuckles, shifting on his hooves. Phil nodded, hair bouncing up and down a little as he did so. “You may, Schlatt.” As he moved forward towards the bound man, Phil whispered under his breath, just barely loud enough for his sensitive ears to pick up. “Just remember, you’re going to pay for that stunt you pulled earlier, no matter what you do here.” He stepped back a bit at that, bleating in surprise. The winged man chuckled at his reaction, grinning sneakily at his captor. 

Schlatt narrowed his eyes at him, stepping close to his face. He whipped out his hands from behind him, making Phil close his eyes instinctually, before untying his (as in, Tubbo’s, but he still hasn’t noticed the loss of it yet) scarf, pulling it over the king’s eyes. He secured it, tickling gently under his chin as he pulled away. Phil was definitely not expecting that, yelping long and loud at the sensory deprivation. He tucked his head into his shoulders at the gentle tickles, already laughing. The inability to see where Schlatt was going next was already killing him. “Schlahahahatt! Nohoho, plehehease nohoho!” 

Schlatt raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Begging already? What happened to the ‘noble king’ act you were sporting a few minutes ago, hmm? Was that all bravado? Oh, please.” He started tracing shapes over the man’s torso, gently tickling there, and moving downwards to his belly. As he did so, he started getting more and more random, until he was scribbling and pinching all over his tummy haphazardly, reaching the same frenetic pace as before. Phil was already tearing up from this. Even though none of these spots were as bad as his back, the blindfold made it impossible to see where the ram would poke next. Every poke and scribble made him buck in the restraints. His mind screamed at him for deciding to let Schlatt do whatever he wanted. He could kill you anytime. Thankfully, he had already known that Schlatt wasn’t going to harm him. He had checked the ram’s pockets before they had started, stating that ‘he didn’t want him to attempt to steal anything and eat it as they went’. He had found no weapons or anything that could be used to kill him, so he waved that thought off with ease. He won’t touch me. He cares for me. He smiled in genuine happiness, trilling and cooing in the back of his throat in unadulterated joy. 

The ram hybrid smiled, continuing to tickle at his tummy and sides. “Having fun there, Philza? I think you are~” As if he wanted to prove his point, he dug in a little harder, causing the bird hybrid to buck up more into his hands. His laughter went squeaky from underneath him, making him chuckle darkly. “Ohh, coochie, coochie coo! Doesn’t it feel good to be the one getting wrecked for once? Revenge is so sweet.” 

Philza nodded his head wildly, making the ram chuckle even more at the intense looking movement. He moved to his hips, digging his nails into the strong bones there. He watched his king buck up and screech with laughter at the new movement, one hoof stomping happily in return. He squeezed and scribbled over the man’s hipbones, delighting in the honey-warmed laughter he got there. He wondered how the emperor could have such a smooth and comforting laugh, even when he was being tickled silly by one of his so-called ‘subjects’. He continued to rub and tease at his hips, enjoying the light pink trails that he left as he went. He moved back to his stomach, scratching with his thumbs over his abs. He gently rubbed at the scars, marvelling at the texture but wincing in empathy at the idea of how he had earned them. 

To Philza, this was the most torturous yet heavenly thing to have ever happened to him. Never in his lifetime on the throne had anyone ever dared to fight back, much less restrain him and blindfold him in this manner. Sure, he had many a tickle fight with his sons before- but they’ve never, ever decided to go this far with him, even in the most intense of moments. Yet here he was, at the mercy of a hybrid he had met not long ago who had absolutely no affiliation to the throne nor the country. If he was anyone else, he would have been worried, afraid even, of this person, this enigma of a creature. 

Fortunately (and unfortunately), he was not anyone else. He was not afraid of such a creature tumbling into his life, instead adopting him as one of his own and treating him similarly. He loved him dearly, and he was overjoyed to find that this rude, often grumpy ram hybrid called Schlatt truly loved him back. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do this. He knew that his officials would have been concerned at his lack of safety, but he knew the truth. He knew that trust comes from powerful vulnerability. So, instead of snapping the restraints he knew exactly how to break, he sat there, wiggling in blissful agony as Schlatt dug into his most ticklish scars.

 He didn’t remember how long he was there, tears streaming from his eyes, wings unfolding and refolding. He didn’t remember when Schlatt finally finished, unshackling him and rubbing at his chafed wrists, mumbling apologies. And he certainly didn’t remember when he drifted off to blessed unconsciousness, cuddling with the ram on the now-warm interrogation table, no. What he did remember was awakening to see a now very trussed-up Schlatt, hanging from his wrists just barely on a stool, with two of his sons growling at him menacingly. “W-wait, boys! T-techno, Wilbur! We can t-talk about this, right?” He looked desperately at the king, ears flicking back in fear. He got up from the table, wings stretching out fully behind him. As he walked forward, wings dusting the ground as he went, he grinned at the terrified hybrid. “Remember what I said earlier about what I’d do to you for yesterday?” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “It’s payback time.” And so, the ram’s laughter echoed through the dungeon, bouncing off of the restraints that so tightly bound the king, sealing his fate for that morning (and the day after, for good measure).

Thank you for reading. Bird thanks you.

[melzula]

The Beginning of the End

pairing: Zuko x Princess! reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death, fluff

summary: in which the Princess learns what became of her father and turns to Zuko for comfort (requested by anon)

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“Y/n,” your mother calls gently from your doorway. “The ships are leaving, come say goodbye to your father.”

“No.”

“Princess, he’s your father,” she chides gently. “I know you have your differences-“

“Differences?! He forbid me from water bending and he forbid me from ever seeing Zuko again!”

“Little otter penguin, try to understand that your father only has your best interests at heart. He loves you, and if you don’t say goodbye you’re going to regret it.”

“I won’t regret anything,” you insist stubbornly. “Besides, there’s no point in saying goodbye when we both know he’s going to come back.”

The White Lotus campsite is relatively quiet despite the number of members it inhabits, most of them gifting you friendly smiles or passing glances of acknowledgement as you weave through the tents in search of any familiar faces. With Aang having disappeared, you’re only hope in defeating the Fire Lord now rests upon Iroh, hence your group’s presence on the campgrounds. Zuko has left in search of his Uncle, and though you wished to see the kind old man again after having been apart for so long you knew it was something the prince had to do on his own. Besides, you had your own questions that needed answering and didn’t have much time to waste as you sought after any water tribe member who might have information on the whereabouts of your father.

Your search efforts are halted by the hand that rests itself firmly upon your shoulders, and though your first instinct is to pull the water from the air around you in preparation for a fight you’re quick to relax as you see it’s none other than Pakku. An apologetic smile forms on your features as you grant the old man and longtime family friend a tight hug.

“The last time I saw you you were barely learning how to walk, and now here you are pulling water out of thin air like a true bending master,” he comments with a laugh. “It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” you reply with a watery smile before pulling out of the hug to look at the man before you. Your grandfather and Pakku had been good friends in their younger days, and before the war he had often visited to teach water bending to the boys in your tribe, but then your grandfather had died and Pakku stopped coming. It was comforting to see a familiar face, but you were starting to dread the truth that would come with your question. What if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear?

“You’re troubled,” he says carefully, “what can I do to help?”

“My father... Have you heard what’s become of him? Is he back home in the south?”

Pakku’s eyes soften then, sympathetic and remorseful, but he doesn’t answer your question, not right away. Instead he guides you towards your tent and takes you inside to discuss the matter privately. Once you’ve seated yourself on the ground Pakku reaches into his robe and pulls out a familiar item from his sleeve.

“Do you recognize this?”

“Father’s tiger shark tooth necklace,” you murmur quietly as Pakku places the piece of jewelry into your open palm. The tooth is jagged and sharp though worn around the edges from the many years it’s spent hanging from your father’s neck; it was a good luck charm given to him by your mother when they were younger, and he never went anywhere without it. “But I don’t understand...”

It’s the way in which Pakku refuses to meet your gaze that you finally understand, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you clutch the necklace tightly to your chest.

“No...”

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” the man offers weekly before handing you a paper scroll. “Everything you need to know is in this letter. I’ll give you the privacy you need to read it for yourself.”

He leaves you alone to mourn in piece, and despite how desperate you are to know the last words of your father you can’t bring yourself to open the letter. Opening it makes it real, and you don’t think you can face his death. Not now, not when your friends are counting on you to be at your strongest for the arrival of the comet. Your heart is beating rapidly in your ribcage and your vision is blurry with your tears, and this time when a gentle hand rests itself upon your shoulder you collapse against the owner’s chest. Strong arms wrap around your trembling figure and encompass you in a comfortingly familiar warmth as you weep into their chest.

“Pakku sent me,” Zuko utters quietly into your hair. “What is it?”

“My father,” you whisper into the fabric of his robes, “he’s dead. He’s gone and I never even said goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” Zuko comforts gently. “I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now. Is there any way I can help?”

“There’s a letter,” you sniffle as you pull away from Zuko to wipe away your freshly fallen tears. “I can’t bring myself to read it but I need to know what it says. Would you... would you read it to me?”

“O-Of course,” he replies quickly before scrambling to open the letter as you situate yourself to sit in between his legs with your back resting against his chest. With his arms around your waist and the letter held in front of the two of you, Zuko’s gentle voice slowly begins to morph into that of your father’s as you shut your eyes and listen.

“Princess,

I don’t have much time left on this earth, and I know the chances of seeing you again before my time is up are slim, so I’ve taken to writing this letter in hopes that all of your questions will be answered when I’m gone. I’ve been badly wounded in battle and with no healers available it will only be a matter of time before I pass on from this life to the next. But know that I am sorry. I’m sorry for making you become someone you weren’t, for forcing you to change when you didn’t want to, and for not being open enough to listen to your needs. I was blinded by my anger with the Fire Lord and I took it out on you and that poor boy. Love is a complicated thing, you cannot choose or help who you fall in love with, and perhaps if I had remember that then I wouldn’t have forced you to run away.

We all have a destiny in life and leaving was part of yours. There’s a greater world out there for you to explore; a good leader requires knowledge, and as future leader of the Southern Water Tribe it is your duty to obtain it. Learn to love, learn to be brave, learn to be kind, and learn to be forgiving. We didn’t get to say goodbye and that’s alright, we’ll have our time together again in the next life, so don’t let this slow you down. I know you’re going to do great things, my sweet daughter. I’ll always be with you in spirit, and you’ll always have my support. It is an honor to be your father, my brave little water bender.

It’s all up to you now. With love, your father Tukon.”

The air is silent as your father’s voice fades away and all that is left behind is the sound of your quiet sniffling and Zuko’s gentle breathing. You want to cry but for some reason the tears don’t come, and instead being filled with devastating loss and regret you are filled with a small warmth that fills your heart with love and appreciation. Your father is with you now, you can feel it, and in this moment that is enough.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, showing your gratitude to both your father and Zuko as he holds you close to his chest in the safety of your tent.

~~~

You wake to the smell of freshly cooked porridge, a smiling Zuko sitting beside your bed as he holds the bowl of breakfast in his hands to maintain its warmth while you rise.

“Good morning,” his raspy voice greets you. “How are you feeling?”

Memories from the previous night flood back to you all at once, and your boyfriend doesn’t miss the way in which you immediately reach up to clasp the tiger shark tooth hanging from your neck tightly in your hand. Tears begin to well in your eyes but you manage to keep them at bay, instead choosing to look upon Zuko with a fragile smile.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Did you sleep okay? I had Suki look after you while you slept so I could speak with my Uncle.”

“How is he?” You ask, features perking up with interest. A small smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“He’s fine, and we’re okay. He’s eager to see you again. But you need to eat first, we all have a big day ahead of us,” Zuko instructs before handing you your breakfast. “Uncle says I need to reclaim the throne, and to do that I have to face off against Azula. But I can’t do it alone, so I’d like you and Katara to join me.”

It’s silent for a moment as you digest both the yummy porridge and the information Zuko has bestowed upon you. You had a feeling this day would come, and despite the apprehension you hold when it comes to fighting his deranged sister you know there’s no other option.

Your father’s words echo in your head: “Learn to be brave.” A beat passes before you finally nod.

“I’ve been wanting to put her in her place ever since she beheaded my favorite doll,” you admit with a wry smile. “I’d be honored to help you.”

“Get dressed,” Zuko says then, rising from his place beside your bed to give you the space you need to prepare. We leave in ten minutes.”

And so begins the end of the war.

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

[binunus]

college bf!jinjin

a/n yes yes yes 100x yes, here's the next installment of the college bf!astro series hehe, hope you enjoy it love 😙

{request: Would it be possible to get a college boyfriend Jinjin too?? I super loved the Bin one you did!!!! Thank you in advance 💜}

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 3k

_________________________________________

alright theydies

jinwoo–like everyone else in astro–makes me hella hard and soft at the same time so this is gonna be fun

major: music engineer technology

i saw that one ddoca where he was directing all the members for his song and just !!! grr bark bark

literally a fucking sweetie

one of the kindest people you will ever meet in your life

his face is so gentle, especially when he smiles

and then you hear his voice and you're like woah why is it so deep and raspy hey

and then he laughs or giggles and you're like ahh that looks more like you hehe

roommates with university famous dancer!rocky bc i love rap line

such a good roommate and hyung omg

will always make sure rocky eats dinner or takes a shower before going to bed even though he’s exhausted from dance practice or whatever

always shows off how talented rocky (and the rest of the boys) is

very chill

which is a bit of a surprise to everyone bc one of his best friends is literally myungjun

anyway, how do you two meet??

you're a vocal performance major

coincidentally, the same major as myungjun

oh god so you can bet he really played matchmaker for you two

you and myungjun were doing a duet together for one of your final projects during your second year

and you two were joking around like

damn, we should record this, we sound pretty fire

*cue myungjun immediately calling jinjin*

mj: ARE YOU AT THE STUDIO?? ARE YOU FREE RIGHT NOW??

jin: hyung why are you yelling it's literally 6 pm

anyway, it was spontaneous but you and myungjun end up going to one of the recording studios in the music building where jinwoo very often frequents at

you're like a bit shy, like wtf myungjun you didn't tell me that your friend was cute?? you would have worn something better than sweats and a tank

jin's so nice ugh, just imagine him smiling at you as he introduces himself

literally you melted

his fit? bucket hat, glasses, shorts and a tee

it was so casual, but why did he look so cute??

myungjun convinces jinwoo to let you guys record in the studio

it took him just 10 minutes to set up the equipment and everything

you were just looking at him like ooo looks so professional

sksksk im gross

myungjun goes first bc you were nervous

and yeah duh he was a natural, but you couldn't help but admire jinwoo in his prime

he looked so attractive in the producer chair just like instructing mj in the booth

he didn't even know what kind of song you guys were singing, but he directed him so smoothly so that the best parts of myungjun's voice came out

mj joking around: why's your mouth open, y/n? amazed at my voice?

you roll your eyes: sure if that's what you want to believe

your thoughts: ah haha i was totally not oogling your best friend myungjun, totally not

and then it was your turn to go in the booth

you don't know why, but you were hella nervous singing in front of them–or more so, in front of jinwoo

which is dumb bc you're literally a vocal performance major, you sing in front of strangers all the damn time

but you really wanted to impress him for some reason??

okay, you had no reason to be nervous because as soon as you opened your mouth?? jinnie?? literally awestruck

he's heard a lot of singers, obviously bc he's had to record so many of them

but you?? your voice?? a literal siren for him–but in a good way!

your singing entranced him

and then you looked out of the booth to see him just staring at you and your throat went dry

your voice cracked, you've never felt more embarrassed in your life

you: ah! oh my God I'm so sorry, that was horrendous

myungjun's laughing at you, what a nice duet partner

but jin just smiles bc you're whining and hiding your face in your hands

you were so cute??

jinwoo: it's okay y/n, you were doing really good. let's try that again, okay?

he was so sweet about it, ugh you were blushing

you end up recording again, and this time you made the smart decision to close your eyes and just try and focus on the lyrics

and shit, if jinjin wasn’t already a bit interested in you before, he definitely was now

because the way you looked completely immersed in the song and lyrics

his heart skipped like ten miles i dont know

myungjun just knew from the way jinwoo was staring at you

you didn’t get his number from the first meeting

bitch you were too shy, you just squeaked out a “thank you, hope myungjun and I weren’t too much of a bother”

jin: hyung’s always a bother, but you were totally fine

mj: hey!

anyway you leave with a bit of regret, like you should have at least gotten his snapchat or social media or something

or make a dumb excuse to try and see him again

ah but mj was already ten steps ahead of you and jinjin ;)

when you get back to your apartment, there’s a text from myungjun like

“come back to jinwoo’s studio tomorrow for the final mix of our duet”

you immediately jump at the opportunity: okay! what time?

damn could you be any more obvious??

this time you actually tried to look cute, like you were going to see jinwoo again, you couldn’t look like a rat

you get to the studio at the time myungjun told you and you’re like?? oh it’s just jinwoo here?? maybe myungjun’s running a bit late??

jinwoo: oh hey y/n! wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon

you: ???? myungjun told me to come here to listen to the final mix...

jinwoo being shy: he didn’t tell me about that haha

you’re embarrassed, about to turn on your heel and book it

maybe also thinking of murdering myungjun on the way back to your place

but then jinwoo grabs your wrist before you could leave

and you literally felt a spark at his touch, it made you jump a little bit

jin: you can stay if you want–I mean, you came all this way already, I’d be a bit of jerk if I just make you leave

you: I-uh-don’t wanna intrude

he just shakes his head with a smile: you’re not, don’t worry. besides, I’m actually working on your song right now, you can tell me what you think

and that’s how you end up hanging out with jinwoo alone in the studio

you were obviously very awkward and nervous at first

what do you say to him? should you ask him questions? what if you’re bothering him? god you don’t want to sound like an idiot

jinwoo noticed your nervousness––and yes he was nervous too, but he just hid it better than you

he hands you a pair of headphones: here, listen to what I have done so far

you’re like pleasantly surprised??? you and myungjun sound so professional?? like damn put this out on spotify or something

you’re smiling and jinwoo just feels like a huge sense of relief like phew okay you like it so far

and then you two just get to talking while he’s still mixing

you ask him how he got into music and his major and all that fun stuff

you find out that jin’s always loved music and the actual producing aspect of it, he hopes to be a music producer one day and he just flirts with you like

“hey maybe one day you can sing my songs on stage”

and you’re like ??? me??? 

jin: you have one of the best voices I’ve ever heard, it would be an honor for me

ugh jinwoo stop im blushing

you two end up ordering food and eating at the studio bc he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave until he finished your duet and you didn’t wanna leave him alone tf

you and jinwoo exchange numbers this time hehe

before you leave, he’s like “this was nice y/n, you should come over and keep me company more often :) if...you want of course”

you: i’d be happy to! just text me any time :)

internally you’re screaming like yes !! 

you can bet that you start spending a lot of your free time with jinwoo in the music studio

sometimes it’s just you two

sometimes myungjun and their other friends make appearances too

and that’s how you get introduced to their friend group

myungjun to either of you: you’re spending a lot of time with jin/yn lately ;)

about a month after meeting each other, jinwoo asks you out on a date

with the encouragement of astro

it was all expected let’s be honest

cliche first date at the movies, but like you both loved it

wouldn’t be surprised if astro was spying on you two, sitting like a couple rows behind and watching your every move

but shhh if they did, you and jinwoo didn’t notice

the transition from liking each other →  going on dates →  making it exclusive went so smoothly

you and jin were hooked on each other after the first couple meetings that it just seemed so right

myungjun will never stop saying that he’s the reason why you two are in a relationship

you and the other boys grow very fond with each other–particularly sanha

and that was important for jinwoo bc the guys are like his family and it’s basically a dream for him that his partner and friends are close too

sanha is his child do not @ me

so by osmosis, sanha becomes like your baby too

the two of you literally coddle sanha, it’s cute okay

they all go to you and jin for relationship advice sksksk

bc to them, you two just seem so made for each other :’) 

the !! sweetest !! most perfect !! boyfriend

will walk you to class in the morning even if his class is all the way across campus

and you’re like: jinwoo it’s okay, i can see you after this class, you might get late!

jin being pouty: i just wanna spend more time with you :(

im in love with jinjin

loves holding your hand, even when you two are in the studio and he’s mixing something for class or just for fun, he’s still holding your hand

whenever he makes a composition, you’re the first person he shows

really values what you think of his work

vice versa, when you have a song you need to sing, you always ask him to listen to you first

you don’t sugarcoat with each other when it comes to music

will ask you to sing literally all the time

jinwoo gives the best hugs :’)

it’s just so comforting, one of his hands strokes your hair, while the other one rubs your lower back

you know what kind of picture im creating?? yeah

ooooof baby you go with him when he gets his tattoos

you hold his hand through it the entire time even though he probably didn’t feel much pain from it

and like his big ass chest tattoo??? are you drooling??? 1000%

when jinwoo realizes that you get ??? turned on?? by his tattoos, you bet he begins to walk around shirtless in your apartment

is this my transition to down and dirty? yes it is

your first time with him was mmm rough and it’s all thanks to that chest tattoo

you and jinwoo have been steamy before, like makeout sessions and dry humping, and oral (both receiving), but the actual action of fucking? y’all haven’t done it before that night

ofc he’s being a little tease and walking around shirtless

he was always touching you though, not explicitly, but like say you were washing the dishes, he would walk past you and brush his hand passed your waist and he’d whisper in your ear like: sorry baby excuse me

and like he’s done this the whole day so just at one point you lose it and literally push him against the wall and start making out with him

ah he knew you were gonna crack

and god you were so turned on at this point that you were not having any of that soft shit, like you needed him to fuck you asap

jinwoo fucks you so hard your first time together that you couldn’t walk the next day

hehe

oh boy he likes to bite

yes he’s the sweetest, but in the bedroom?? lowkey a bit of a masochist

it’s okay bc you don’t mind a little bit of pain ;)

daddy!! kink!! i dont make the rules

will call you baby girl/boy

he’s the dom, like will very rarely let you dom him

very private with your sex life, you won’t catch him teasing you in public with other people around

and if you try, like say if you whisper daddy in his ear or something while you are hanging out with the guys, oof it’s gonna be a rough night for you

alright but studio sex

has he recorded your moans before?? or you two having sex in the booth?? yes

debatably, studio sex happens more than bedroom sex, but that’s only because most of jinwoo’s time is literally in the music building

jinwoo dirty talk !! with his sexy ass raspy voice !! 

ugh jin moaning in your ear what a good girl/good boy you are for him while he’s just fucking you

will slightly degrade you?? like yes you are his cocksleeve

but he also praises you a lot during sex too

ooh you better hope you don’t have a gag reflex bc he’s all into throat fucking

favorite position is actually missionary, believe it or not

he loves seeing you come undone for him

eye contact during sex?? yes

like he will make sure you’re looking at him when you cum, periodt

favorite place to cum is your face oops

also very much into cockwarming

most of the time, your sessions are rough just bc your vibes are like that

but when they’re soft and slow?? and like making love?? 

literally the most passionate man ever

jin makes it all about you and your pleasure when he’s being gentle

after care is full of kisses and cuddles and I love yous

always makes sure you drink water after having sex

stay hydrated kids

and jinwoo’s back to being the bestest boyfriend :’)

first i love you was when you two were in bed together

you both just woke up and were cuddling

jin was watching the video you sent him of you practicing this one song for an upcoming performance

and you were still drowsy, so you were literally drifting in and out of sleep while he was listening to your video

and jinwoo was just awestruck, he’s always been in love with your voice from the get go, but the way you executed this song? even though it was just practice? his chest was constricting

you’re like mumbling when the video stops: i still need to work more on the bridge, my tone gets a bit flat during it, right?

and he just smiles softly at you even though your eyes are closed and you can’t see him

he thought it was perfect already, you were perfect already

and he just calls your name: y/n

you: hmm??

jin: I love you

and suddenly you’re awake and meeting his eyes

they were so genuine and serious and full of love, you don’t even hesitate to say it back

honestly not the jealous type, he’s so patient and trusting and knows that you’re crazy about only him

will constantly reassure you about any of your insecurities: body, voice, school, your relationship, anything

jinwoo just has such a calming aura around him that you can’t help but feel like, as long as he’s by your side everything will be okay

the two of you have many deep talks together, especially at night before going to sleep, it’s what makes your relationship so solid

jinwoo just knew that he wanted to marry you, even early on into your relationship

there was no one that supported him more in his dreams, no one that he’s ever truly felt connected with, no one that he’s shared all his deepest fears with than you

and like after a year of dating like he couldn’t picture a future without you in it

he’s a romantic :’)

shortly before graduating, he makes a song about you and he’s actually singing in it

ugh main vocal jinjin rise

and he shows it to you in the music studio where you first met

and it’s about how much he loves you and admires you and treasures you

basically a proposal but not really

and you’re so touched, like literally moved to tears because it was so beautiful

and lowkey he was cringing at hearing his singing voice but you still loved it nonetheless

and afterwards, jinwoo was like: I wanna spend the rest of my life with you y/n, I’m not asking you to marry me right now, obviously I’ll propose to you in a better way in the future, but I’m serious about you and I can’t imagine being with anyone else.

you jump into his lap and kiss him and just keep saying I love you in between kisses

and jinwoo’s all smiley and giggly like: do you feel the same??

and you hit his arm all jokingly, yes of course you do

you just sit on his lap and he’s hugging you while the two of you are listening to more of his projects and jinwoo’s just thinking like wow I love this person so much

maybe the two of you do owe it to myungjun for playing matchmaker

i guess mj can be the best man at your wedding

y’all this was so soft??

but yes jinnie’s the best bf/husband material out there

im in love with him

_________________________________________________

2-8-21

[melancholic-pigeon]

Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?

SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.

Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.

Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side. 

I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.

love you to the moon and back.

-J. ❤

Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.

(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)

Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity. 

Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade. 

He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.

It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.

"My other half says hello."

There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.

"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?" 

Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated. 

"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you." 

She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is. 

"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope." 

"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated." 

"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"

Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression, 

"He really does, doesn't he?"

Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself. 

His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.

"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."

He knows that feeling too. 

Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there. 

"You too, Mama." 

She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.

She's smiling, too. 

She smiles a lot, these days.

—

In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding. 

Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands. 

"Decorative. Sure." 

"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked." 

"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."

"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."

"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD." 

"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?" 

"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah." 

Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling. 

Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen. 

"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.

"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy." 

Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question. 

Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose. 

"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."

She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it. 

"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?" 

"See!"

"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."

His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties. 

"I know exactly where I'm going to put it." 

Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study. 

There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins. 

"I'll hang it up for you later."

She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.

Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.

It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.

It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.

"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."

"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.

"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."

"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.

"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit." 

"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen. 

It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.

Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading. 

"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers. 

"He's always welcome for a rain check."

"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling. 

Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time. 

"More bird!"

"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."

They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.

Percy's eyes sting. 

For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead. 

She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place. 

He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response. 

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them. 

"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey." 

Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all. 

When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it. 

Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.

"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything." 

"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.

It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive. 

-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words

[crayonwriting]

02 - Here We Go Again

Summary: Maiko just wanted her good ol’ dad to walk her down the aisle. So, she invited the three men from your past in hopes of meeting him. The only problem was, which one of them is it?

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Disclaimer: This is based on the movie directed by Phyllida Loyd and written by Catherine Johnson which is inspired by the music of the pop group ABBA.

catch up here!

"My, my, my! Look who we have here!" You put your hands on your waist, beaming at the end of the dock were your friends, Yoshiko—the wealthiest in your group with a very kind heart—and Rika—the noisiest, smallest, and a wisecracking author.

The two, who had just arrived, screamed loudly and ran up to you. You met them halfway,  slamming into them in a tight hug. You haven't seen them for years! If you could remember, Maiko was only at least ten years old when they last visited. 

A lot of people getting off of the ferry stared at your group but none of you paid them any heed. You turned to Yoshiko and grinned wide.

“You look amazing, Yoshiko!” You glanced down at her chest which made you stifle a laugh. It was obvious that she had some ‘enhancements’ done to that area. “These are new though. Where’d you get them, huh?” You playfully lay your hands on them, making Yoshiko squeal and jokingly swat your hands away.

“Where else than husband number three!” Rika cheered, laughing loudly.

—

Maiko placed the final pin onto Nana’s bridesmaid's dress for the final adjustments. The three of them were in front of the mirror to see how the dresses looked like when worn. Maiko had found these dresses for sale when she was out with Minoru on the mainland.

“Maiko-chan these are so pretty! I can’t wait to see your dress!” Eri gushed, twirling around in her own dress. Maiko sighed with a dreamy smile.

“I’m gonna have the perfect wedding, with my father to give me away.” She muttered, dreamily.

“Well, I hope the church has a wide aisle,” Nana remarked. Maiko scoffed, pulling at her friend’s hair playfully. 

“I’ll know which one it is when I see them.” Maiko defended.

Just then the door opened and Minoru entered. Nana and Eri greeted him, missing their other friend as well. Minoru chuckled tackling both girls into a hug, making them land on the bed.

“There are pins on the dresses! Please be careful!” Maiko warned, looking at them amused. When they all pulled away, Nana and Eri posed playfully.

“So, how do we look?” Nana asked. Minoru whistled and smiled.

“Wow. You guys look amazing!” He turned to his fiancee, pulling her in by the waist.  “But this one, right here, is gonna be the most beautiful around.” Nana and Eri teased the two of them; Maiko could only blush. She leaned in and pecked Minoru’s lips. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to pick up a few props for my bachelor party tomorrow.” He went to the closet and plucked out his needed items—a cowboy hat and his swimming trunks. 

Maiko was amused.

—

“Heave-ho, maties!” Bokuto shouted into the winds. All the while, Kuroo was struggling to re-tie one of the sails that was blown out by the wind, while Oikawa was doing his best to not to get thrown off the boat as he tried cranking one of the cables.

—

You, Yoshiko and Rika rode on your truck to get to the villa. Once there, Minoru was already walking towards you. You waved him over.

“Minoru! Meet these hitchhikers I found at the docks!” Your insult was met by a loud ‘hey!’ and a ‘hitchhikers, my ass!’. You just laughed. You pointed your thumb towards Minoru. “He’s the leading man at the party.” Minoru just bowed at them. He walked closer.

“You must be Rika-san?”

“That’s me.” Rika reached over and gave Minoru a firm hug. He asked her how she’s been, to which she answered with a smile and an ‘I’m doing good.’ Minoru looked behind her.

“And you must be Yoshiko-san. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Mhmm.” Yoshiko hummed, hugging Minoru in greeting. “All bad, I hope.” The boy just laughed lightheartedly.

“And they’re all true.” You quipped. Minoru saw you struggling with your guests’ luggages and proceeded to help you get them down from the truck.

—

The three of them all sat near the back of the boat where Bokuto was steering. Oikawa sat beside him, staring at Bokuto’s side profile. 

“I think I know who you are.” Oikawa tilted his head. “You’re Bokuto Koutarou. Ace of the MSBY Black Jackals team in Japan.”

“Yep. That’s me.” Bokuto grinned.

“You retired three years ago. Why?”

Bokuto just shrugged. “I love volleyball. I’ll never stop loving volleyball. But...something just clicked one day and I knew I had to go.” He glanced at Oikawa who looked like he was in deep thought. “What about you? Are you a player as well?”

“Yeah. Argentina.”

“Ever thought of quitting?” The suggestion made Oikawa shake his head vigorously. 

“You’re a close friend of Y/N?” Kuroo asked from the sides. Bokuto’s shoulders slumped in the slightest. 

“No. I haven’t heard from her for...twenty years, I think?”

Kuroo was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, and then this invite,” he pulled out the invitation from his pockets, waving it in front of them. “Out of the blue.���

“It’s the same for me.” Oikawa mumbled.

—

“Rika-obaasan!” Maiko shouted from the window on the second floor of the villa. The three women had just arrived by the entrance where Maiko was waiting. She disappeared inside the room and ran down the stairs to them.

“Maiko-chan has grown so beautiful!” Yoshiko gushed, breathing a little heavily as the trek up the villa’s entrance was a tad bit high. Rika held her arms out to catch Maiko in her arms. You smiled at the scene proud of how well you’ve done with Maiko.

“Maiko-chan! You get more beautiful everytime I see you!” Rika held Maiko’s face in both of her hands rubbing at her flushed cheeks. The younger woman shook her head. “You do!” Rika persisted.

“I bet you don’t remember me.” Yoshiko called out beside you.

“Not with all that plastic surgery.” Rika muttered under her breath. Maiko just smiled at the familiar banter between her aunts. She ran to Yoshiko, bringing her into a tight hug as well. 

“Of course I remember you, Yoshiko-obaasan! You haven’t changed at all.” 

“I’m so happy for you.” Yoshiko said when they pulled away. Seeing your daughter interact with your best friends made you feel a warm weight on your chest. You couldn’t help yourself so you pulled your daughter towards your embrace, hugging her from behind. 

“My baby, all grown up; her whole life ahead of her.” Maiko just laughed at your words as she struggled to get out of your hold.

“I’m just getting married, okaa-san! I’m not going to be a miko!” ” She exclaimed. She then led the three of you to the back of the villa. Yoshiko and Rika shared amused faces. Maiko showed the same fiery attitude you had during your younger days.

“Just like her okaa-san.” Rika slung an arm around your shoulders, following your daughter’s trail. 

“If she was like me, she wouldn’t be getting married at twenty.”

“Or married at all.” Yoshiko added.

The villa that you owned consisted of small clusters of buildings designed in Cycladic architecture, capturing the beauty of the small island. The small archway, where you just passed through on the side of the main building, led you to a small alley full of locals selling various produce. Somehow, small  parts of the town had merged with the hotel space and you didn’t mind.

“I haven’t put the laundry down before you came!” You panicked, in the slightest, picking up a nearby basket and shoving all the washed sheets and blankets in it. As you hastily tried to tidy up, Maiko walked over to you. She took the basket from you gently with a knowing look. 

You had promised her that you won’t be working too much on her wedding preparations, seeing as only a few will attend. And Maiko has seen you work so hard for the hotel—for her—and the least she could do is make you relax, especially now that your friends are here.

Minoru appeared with two glasses of ice cold water which she gave to your two guests. Rika and Yoshiko took a few sips and for some reason—they didn’t know if it was just their thirst or exhaustion—the water tasted sweeter than normal and more refreshing. Minoru noticed the change in their expressions. A smug smile appeared on his face.

“Good, right?” The women could only nod in silence. Maiko stood beside him intertwining their hands. Minoru continued. “I’m actually designing a website that would showcase everything about Kalokairi. I just think this place has so much potential. But no one knows we’re here.” He glanced at Maiko, pecking her forehead, affectionately. “After that, with proper marketing and advertisements, people will come flooding in.”

Maiko grinned, proud at her fiance. “We just want this to be the ultimate romantic destination. They did say that this was once the site of Aphrodite’s fountain. The Goddess of Love. And if you drank the water,” she gestured to the glasses they held, “You’re supposed to find true love and perfect happiness.”

“Can I take home a bucket of this?” Rika asked. 

—

You entered a small house—still a part of the hotel—which was reserved for VIP customers...if you had them. Rika and Yoshiko immediately admired the simplicity and beauty of it. As they looked around Yoshiko removed her expensive coat and sunglasses, placing them atop the small coffee table.

“I thought you didn’t want a lot of tourists over here?” She asked. You were going about the small space, fixing things that weren’t even misplaced or broken. 

“I don’t want, like, boats filled with tourists. Just...a few more would be nice.” You opened the bathroom door and suddenly remembered the plumbing issue you've been having for a few weeks now. You turned to your friends. “Now, the toilet is…if it doesn’t flush right away, just go,” you made a motion with your hands, “And come back in a while and it should be fine.” Rika and Yoshiko just looked at each other.

You dismissed their looks with a shaky laugh. “Sorry. Nothing really works around here. Hell, I think I’m the only one working around here!” You paced around the room. “I’ve been running this hotel for fifteen years and I’ve never had a day off!” It was starting to feel a little hot inside so you pushed open the nearby window, letting some fresh air in. 

One of the shutters suddenly broke off and fell, almost hitting a passerby who had just bought onions from a seller. You peered down at them, face apologetic. The locals who were within the area stared up at you with blank expressions. They were used to the occasional bang and clang of your hotel falling apart at the seams.

“I’m sorry!” You shouted over. You sighed loudly, turning back to the room. “Where’s a rich guy when you need one?!” You said, exasperated. Your two friends just raised an eyebrow at each other, following you out. 

You went down the steps to retrieve the fallen shutter. The small alley where it fell was filled with local Greek people who hounded you to buy their goods. You recognize some of them who’d offered to help around the hotel and were now asking for payment for their services.

You just nodded robotically, mumbling that you’d pay them soon once you get the money. If you get the money. Yoshiko and Rika did their best to catch up with you. You picked up the shutter. Going around the corner, you stopped by a white door. You twisted the knob firmly before it fell off. Yoshiko winced, realizing how you meant that nothing works here literally.

“If I had a rich man, I’d be able to fix this whole place.” You then scoffed. “If I married a rich man, I’d never work it all!”

Pushing the door a little, it opened. You checked in on the kitchens where your cooks, who were previously sitting down by the table resting, scrambled to get back to their preparations. You eyed them warily. You went inside and got an old bottle of wine you’ve been saving for special occasions. You handed it over to Yoshiko.

“It’s hard to find a rich man to marry.” Yoshiko accepted the bottle, reading the label.

“Easy for you to say, Yoshiko. You’re practically born rich.” Rika countered with a small chuckle.

You just sniggered and shook your head. They kept following as you went around the whole place, conversing with one of your employees, talking about various repairs that needed to be done and due payments to be made. They also followed you into a small shed where you pulled out your tool belt. You buckled it around your waist, picking up a drill as well. 

Your friends could not believe the sight. Never had they imagined your life to turn out like this. Sure, they kept in touch from time to time but they didn’t know that you needed all the help you could get. You stopped in your tracks, feeling their gazes on you.

Turning back around, you just flashed them a smile, grabbing the wine bottle.

“C’mon, let’s go have some fun.”

—

Maiko was lifting some boxes of decorated napkins to help set up the reception area. Just as she was outside the villa, she spotted three tall men curiously looking around. She felt her heart leap to her throat. Could this be…?

“Hi.” She croaked out. The men looked at her. Maiko’s palms were starting to sweat so she kept them in closed fists. “May I help you?”

“Hey there! We’re here for the wedding!” Bokuto’s voice was loud. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Oikawa Tooru.” The man beside Bokuto piped up.

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” The other one stated. He eyed Maiko up and down, noticing the bewildered look on her face. 

Inside Maiko’s mind, she wanted to scream in confusion. She was pretty sure that when her father showed up, she’ll know which one it is—call it instinct if you will. But right now, with all three of them right in front of her, she was more puzzled than ever.

“Were you expecting us?” Kuroo asked.

It took a while for Maiko to respond. She did her best to hide her confusion with a beaming smile. “Oh my god, yes!” She said, relief echoed in her voice. It doesn’t matter that she can’t tell which right now. What matters is they’re here and once she gets them alone or spends a short while with them, she’ll know. Right? 

Kuroo squinted his eyes and tilted his head. He pointed a finger to Maiko. “You’re not, Y/N’s daughter are you?” He asked the question which nagged at his mind ever since receiving the invitation. If this girl was your daughter, then that would mean you’re married. But then again, the girl had the same surname as you...would that mean the opposite thing?

Maiko blushed slightly and bowed her head, indicating that she is your daughter. Bokuto stepped closer, removing his sunglasses.

“That’s why you look familiar. You look just like her.” Bokuto ransacked his mind, trying to remember the name on the invitation. “You’re Meiko, right?

“It’s Maiko.”

“Ah, my bad.” He scratched the back of his head. “I used to have a great aunt living on the mainland. Her name was Meiko.” Maiko was about to say something in response but Oikawa cut her off.

“Is it okay if you show us to our rooms? I’d like to get settled in before we see your okaa-san.”He said. He had been getting nervous ever since they’d arrived at the small island. He wanted to see you so badly but he also wanted to put himself together first because he knows that he’d be a mess in front of you.

“Oh! Yes, of course! You can meet her….but, uhm….,” Maiko panicked. She hadn’t thought about where they’d stay. She didn’t want you to know that your exes are here; not until she figures out who her father is. Suddenly, she knew the perfect place they can stay, hidden and away from the villa. “Uh, come this way please.”

tags: @yikes-buddy / @ushi-please / @melodiamore / @akaashi-todoroki / @honeymoneyy / @minty-mangos-world / @ochabby / @paettonissahotcheeto / @chrisrue15 / @cottage-babe2 / @tsukkx / @yashinosakura / @coconut-dreamz / @roseestuosity / @youstydiaa / @shiningstar-byulxx​

a/n: chapter two it is! this was hella long. 2.6k words i think? i also feel that this was all over the place, switching from one group to another. and i’m so, so, sorry if it confused you! i’m confused as well anyways i originally planned to write 2 chapters then do a double posting, but seeing as it’s a certain owl’s birthday today, i just had to post today. 

happy birthday bokuto koutarou! i love you marry me pls

again, i apologize for the errors (grammar, punctuations, story flow) and thank you so much for all the support!

[louiseleblancdiggory]

can you do some rowaelin content based on invisible string by Taylor? pretty please

I love TS!!! Invisible String is so pretty and I had the perfect idea for it immediately. The whole bracelet thing was a real thing where I grew up, so it was nice to write about it. Enjoy!

Invisible string

--

May 1993

Aelin didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the first time she saw Rowan Whitethorn, she wanted to.

She had barely turned fifteen, just two days before, when she saw him for the first time. Then, she didn’t know his name, his age or anything about him, but she wanted to.

She was sitting down on a shaded spot on the green grass. Lysandra and Elide had dragged her to the park in the morning to watch the early Beltane commemorations. Every year on Beltane day, the kids were provided a series of games and prizes in the Centennial Park, and at night the adults would come, light up the fires and dance until the sun shone in the sky once more. Aelin loved Beltane, it was her holiday. Her family used to joke that it made sense that a girl that had so much wildfire inside of her had been born so close to Beltane.

Her spot in the grass gave her a direct view into the yogurt shop on the other side of the park. And there, standing in a ridiculous pink-and-blue apron and white hat, was the silver headed guy she couldn’t stop staring.

“You know who’s the guy working at Emrys’s?” She nudged Lysandra with her elbow, and her friend sat up and looked to where Aelin was jerking her chin.

“The silver headed?” Lys asked, her nose scrunching up. “Rowan Whitethorn. He’s in your cousin’s class, turning seventeen in a few months, I think.”

“Hum.”

“Oh, no. I know that look. Whitethorn is bad news, Ace. Stay away from him.” Lys warned and Elide nodded from where she was laying down.

She nodded vaguely, but her eyes didn’t leave Rowan. Even for his age, he was already tall and toned. His teal shirt was rolled back at the sleeves to reveal a tattoo sneaking up his arm from his wrist. He was completely serious, not smiling at one costumer and seeming infinitely bored.

Rowan Whitethorn looked like bad news, and Aelin was attracted to it like a moth to the flame.

However, she didn’t go up to him. At that time, as much daring as she was, she still possessed that teenage natural shyness, and talking to a boy two years older than her who looked like he wanted to smash everyone’s skulls wasn’t really her area of expertise. She watched him every now and then, though. The morning ended, giving away to a hot afternoon. At some point, a few kids started running around with buckets, giving away little strings to everyone.

“It grants you a wish.” The little boy told her when he stopped by her tree. “You tie it around your wrist and when it falls down naturally, you can make a wish and it comes true.”

“Oh, really?” Elide, always the nicest one of their trio, asked sounding genuinely interested.

“Yes. Anything you wish becomes true. Sometimes it falls after days, sometimes it takes years, my daddy told me. But it falls eventually and you get a wish.” The boy sounded extremely excited. Aelin guesses that being eight and going around giving magical strings did that to a kid.

“I’ll take one, then. Who doesn’t want a wish, right?” Elide said and the little boy nodded eagerly, handing her a purple string.

“I’ll take one too, of course.” Lysandra smiled, receiving a green string and tying it around her ankle.

When the little boy turned to Aelin, she grinned at him. “I wouldn’t waste the opportunity of having a wish come true, would I?”

The boy smiled back at her, giving her the only gold string inside his bucket. He was running off to the next group of people before she could even thank him. She laughed under her breath, starting to tie it around her wrist. As she gave it the final knot, she looked back at the yogurt shop. Rowan had, surprisingly, also accepted a string from a little girl. He gave her a little smile as he knelt near her, and when she sauntered off, his eyes roamed around the park, stopping on her.

Aelin thought she was mistaken, that in no way in hell he was staring at her, but as Rowan finished tying his string, he raised his wrist and winked.

Aelin could only stare at the equally golden string on his wrist.

———————————

October 1996

Rowan was celebrating his twentieth birthday just the way he planned: getting drunk.

He and his friends had been planning this trip to Los Angeles for months now, and they had ditched a whole week in the university to do it . It was completely worth it, though. They had spent the last three days doing fucking nothing other than drinking and playing some shitty videogame. Rowan had watched Fenrys flirt with every woman that talked to him, watched Lorcan and Aedion scowling and Connall and Vaughan acting like the loving couple they always were.

Things were normal and they were good.

“Man, how the fuck did you find this restaurant?” Fenrys muttered, taking a sip of his beer. Rowan had to agree, the pub’s entrance was almost unnoticeable, and if it wasn’t for Aedion, they would have never found it.

The food was great, the drinks were great and whoever was in charge of the playlist had impeccable taste. Rowan couldn’t think of a better place to spend his birthday.

Aedion scoffed, putting his phone down. “I didn’t find shit. My cousin has been to LA a thousand times and pestered me about coming here. She said, and I quote, that it was her favorite pub in LA, that the food was divine, the beer didn’t taste like piss and, even if the two latter statements weren’t true, the amazing music makes up for it.”

“You are Aelin’s cousin!” The waitress exclaimed, a heavy Scottish accent making the words roll out of her tongue. She must have heard what Aedion was saying when she was walking back to their table to ask if they wanted anything else. “You have her face, and I’ve heard her say those words every time she visited us. Lovely girl, wicked smart, too. Tricked poor Rolfe into letting her buy beer at the age of seventeen! We all though she was twenty two until she was tipsy enough to reveal the truth.”

Aedion grinned. “Sounds exactly like my cousin.”

The waitress laughed out loud, looking at the rest of them. For some reason, her eyes stopped at Rowan. “Beautiful girl, isn’t she? Gets prettier every time she comes by. Looks like one of those American singers.”

He smiled politely at her, but didn’t answer. Rowan had never spoken to Aedion’s cousin. Actually, he had only seen her once.

Rowan looked down at the worn string on his wrist. All his friends had lost theirs already, but Rowan’s was still standing strong. He didn’t believe in any of that bullshit, but he had to admit he had grown fond of the soft scrapping the string gave him. The mention of Aelin and the vision of the golden string only helped him remember the only time he had seen her. It had been Beltane little over three years ago, he was just sixteen and working with yogurt because he really needed the money.

He would have never wore a blue-and-pink apron otherwise.

The day was terribly hot, and Rowan hated interacting with people. Hated small talk and it looked like every person that came by decided that they didn’t want only yogurt, but also a five minute talk with him.

Absolute fucking torture.

When the kids had come around with the strings, it was the first time Rowan wasn’t pissed at the need to talk to someone. The kid had been lovely; a little girl explaining how he would be granted a wish if he wore the string and let it fall naturally. She grabbed the only golden one inside her bucket, running away as Rowan tied it on his wrist.

He looked around mindlessly, but his gaze stopped on a golden haired woman looking at him. Being so far away, Rowan couldn’t identify who she was exactly, but there was something familiar about her. And even from afar he knew that the girl was drop dead gorgeous.

And then he noticed the golden string on her wrist. If it was any other color it might have been something he would have missed it, but the golden thing caught in the light and shined, just like the one on his own wrist. Rowan never understood why he did it, but he raised his wrist to how her his string and winked at her.

Later he discovered why she had looked familiar. She was his best friend’s cousin.

“Ace does get prettier every year.” Fenrys’s voice rang, taking Rowan out of his memories. “Much to the dismay of anyone who has to deal with her ego.”

Vaughan laughed at that. He and Fenrys were the only ones besides Aedion who had any contact with Aelin.

Still staring at the golden string, Rowan almost opened his mouth to ask Aedion for her number. He didn’t know why, the thought had come all too sudden to his head, and he bit his tongue to stop the words.

He didn’t know Aelin one bit, and just ask for her number after a waitress said she was beautiful sounded like a way to pick a fight with Aedion who was extremely protective of his younger cousin.

No, Rowan thought, better to just leave things as they are.

——————————————

New Year’s Eve 1999

Aelin never thought she would be spending New Year’s Eve in a dive bar with her friends and her cousin’s friends.

Usually for end of the year celebrations, her parents would organize a gala or some shit that would force Aelin to wear a boring dress. This year, however, her parents decided to go travel to Europe and spend two weeks there.

And because of that Aelin was wearing a mini red dress, extremely high stilettos, listening to obnoxiously bad music in a small dive bar as she and her group drank beer of questionable quality.

It was fucking great.

She toyed with the dull string on her wrist, the thing probably just hours or days from snapping. After almost seven years, it was about time. She had thought about simply cutting it before, but could never go through with it. It had become a friendly bracelet, one she twisted when nervous or distracted. It had been in all her photos since the age of fifteen, and it would be strange when it fell.

“So I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get their wish yet.” A man’s voice came from behind her, and Aelin turned around to stare at her teenage crush.

Rowan had been attractive at sixteen, but now at twenty three he was straight up hot. He had grown even more, his body looking just as defined. Even with the heels, Aelin tipped her back a little to look at him.

They had never talked, never even looked at each other after that Beltane celebration. Every now and then Aelin would consider asking Vaughan or Fenrys for Rowan’s number, but that would have been strange. She had even once looked him up on social medias after a nasty break up with a man named Chaol. Rowan had no idea who she was, but a small part of Aelin would never be able to forget him.

He had been the crush of her teenage years, even if they had never interacted.

“I’m almost.” She said, raising her wrist the same way he had years ago. “Never thought I would enter the two thousands with this thing still on my wrist.”

“Looks like the golden ones are really lasting.” He showed her his wrist, an equally worn golden string laying there. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aedion told me about you. I’m Aelin.” She extended a hand, and he grabbed it with a smile on his face.

“Aedion has told me about you, too.”

“I tremble just from thinking about exactly what Aedion has told you.” She shivered and he laughed. He didn’t look like the angry teenager she had fallen for in secret, but like an easy going man that she would have no problems talking to.

Oh no. We are not going back to our fifteen years old crush. We have grown out of that.

“Want to go to the bar grab a drink?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Fucking idiot.

Aelin almost told her brain to shut up out loud.

“So, what have you been doing? Still with the whole yogurt shit?”

He smiled at her as they walked to the bar. “Fortunately have left those days behind. Most miserable job I have ever had.”

“The blue-and-pink apron and fake smile really did it for you, though.”

He laughed out loud and Aelin smiled, sitting on a stool.

“Was I that memorable, Galathynius? You saw me only once.”

And at that moment, a doubt she had for the past years had been answered. He had seen her that day, and the wink had probably been to her too.

“The sight was ridiculous enough that I could never forget, Whitethorn.” Her grin became wider. “And the little white hat on your hair was the cherry on top.”

Rowan was trying to scowl, but Aelin saw how he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to refrain from laughing. The moment he opened his mouth to reply, Fenrys threw his arm around her shoulders, taking all attention to him.

“My two favorite people.”

“You’re drunk.” Aelin deadpanned as Rowan sighed.

“It is my happiest state of mind, my dear.” He booped her nose. “I’m so glad the two of you started talking by yourselves. I thought I would need to introduce you guys.”

Aelin knew she would regret it immediately, but she asked anyways. “Why would you bother, wolfie?”

“Well,” he started, suddenly trying to act serious. Aelin had to bite her lower lip at the impatient look on Rowan’s face. When he looked at her, his eyes were almost pleading.

As if I could stop him now. She mouthed to him.

Wishful thinking, Galathynius. He mouthed back.

“Three years ago I thought it would finally happen, you know?” Fenrys continued, oblivious to Rowan and Aelin’s silent conversation. “Me and Vaughan always thought the two of you would get along. Same music taste, same movie taste, and bla bla bla… Three years ago,” hiccup. “Three years ago I thought Rowan was finally going to ask Aedion for your number after Aed said that you had been the one to choose the pub Rowan had loved. But he didn’t.”

Fenrys turned to Rowan, scowling deeply. Rowan’s ears were red, his cheeks slightly pink.

“And Aed was a prick and didn’t offer it himself.” Fenrys looked genuinely pissed. “And then tonight I learn from Lysandra about Aelin’s teenage cru—“

“Ok!” She said a little loudly, her own cheeks on flames. She tried not to look at Rowan, hoping Fenrys’s drunk words had been misinterpreted. “It’s two minutes for midnight, Fenrys. Go find someone else to make the last minutes of the century miserable.”

As if he hadn’t been about to drop one of her biggest secrets and embarrassments, Fenrys simply gave her a peck on the cheek and walked away.

She stared at his back, not wanting to look at Rowan.

“What was that, Ace? I didn’t catch it right. Teenage what?” He asked, but by the tone of his voice Aelin knew that he knew exactly what Fenrys was talking about.

She was going to kill Fenrys. And then Lysandra for telling him. And the Aedion for buying Lysandra the alcohol that made her tell him.

“I was young.” She said through clenched teeth. Her cheeks were burning.

When she turned back to him, he had a grin on his mouth.

“You liked me?” He sounded dopey.

“Fuck off.”

He laughed loudly, almost doubling over. Gosh, she wanted to open a hole on the ground and never see civilization again.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the heartbreaker, had a crush on me?” A little bit of laughter was still on his voice, the smile still big on his face. “I’m flattered. Honestly.”

“Please, please shut the fuck up. And never talk about it again.” She pleaded, looking at the big clock on the bar. One minute for 2000. She was going to spend the last minute in the century dying of embarrassment. “Gosh, I want to kill you right now. And Fenrys, and Lys. Anyone with the information.”

“I remember when I heard that you had made Archer Finn cry when you broke up with him.” Rowan said as if she hadn’t said a word. “And you were head over heels for me.”

“I wasn’t head over heels for you, you insufferable bastard.” She grunted, crossing her arms and standing up. “And Fenrys said you were going to ask for my number three years ago, so stop gloating about me liking you.”

“I was.”

“I know you were gloating, I fucking heard you.” She raised her chin, looking at the clock again. Thirty seconds.

“I was going to ask for your number, I mean.” He explained, still smiling. Aelin didn’t know what to answer at that, so she only stared at him. He sounded so much more comfortable talking about it than she was. “You think these things accept me getting my wish before they fall?”

“What?”

Twenty seconds.

“Like, I get my wish now and when it falls I don’t wish for anything.”

Fifteen seconds.

“I don’t know?” Aelin replied. “I’m not really an expert on fake strings’ magic.”

Ten seconds. Everyone started the countdown.

“Well, let’s pretend then that it was an invisible string.”

Nine, eight, seven…

“Huh?”

“An invisible string. It broke right now and I get a wish.”

Six, five, four..

“An invisible string?”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her, and she instinctively smiled back at him.

They just stared at each other during the next two seconds, and when everyone screamed “one”, Rowan put his hands on Aelin hips and dragged her forward, placing her in between his legs as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Aelin sighed, putting her arms around his shoulders and kissing him back. Rowan’s mouth was soft and warm against hers, and Aelin could feel his smile against her lips. She smiled too, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside of her mouth, deepening the kiss. One of his hands went to the back of her head, holding her in place was his lips moved on hers, as his tongue moved against hers.

“Happy New Century, Galathynius.” Rowan murmured against her mouth, the screams around them sounding muffled by his voice.

“Happy New Century, Whitethorn.” She murmured back, smiling against his mouth as they kissed, not caring for anyone else, or anything else, as they focused on each other during the first minutes of the new century.

——————————————

December 2008

“And she had the biggest crush on me when she was fifteen.” Rowan whispered.

“Rowan Whitethorn, I swear to the gods that if you are telling them I liked you when I was younger, I’ll become a widow today!” His wife’s voice rang from the kitchen, and Rowan fake winced.

His kids only laughed at their parents, bright and happily.

Aelin’s golden head popped out of the kitchen, showing him her tongue. Rowan only winked at her, the same way he had when she had been fifteen. Her face morphed into a soft smile, and she came to them. Aelin sat on his lap, turning to their kids. Rowan pulled her back against her chest, putting his nose on the crook of her neck and breathing in.

He had been wrong eight years ago. The invisible string between them hadn’t snapped.

His wish did come true, though.

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[cmyknoise]

The Nether is a Dangerous Place

Fandom: MCYT/Dream SMP Characters: Philza, Technoblade Ships: (Platonic Philza & Technoblade) Words: 1525 Summary: Technoblade was born and raised in the Nether, although like most Piglins he's been going solo from a very young age. That changed when he met Phil, and more things change when Phil is put in danger. Part 2 (read part 2 when you’re done with this <3) AO3

The Nether was sweltering hot, hotter than the furthest points of the deserts and mesas in the overworld. It was hotter than the deepest of caves, its heat suffocating and thick, causing the landscape to look hazy and foggy. The Nether was hot, except for when it’s not. 

There was only one biome where the heat of the Nether never seemed to reach, but instead it was cold, oh so cold. It sucked the warmth out of everything, maybe that’s why it was filled with souls. The Soul Sand Valley was morbidly beautiful, with it’s blue haze and the blue tinted fire, even though the fire was only blue as its fuel was the souls which lay trapped in the ground underneath. The valley was cold, colder than anywhere else in the Nether, it’s cold colder than anywhere in the overworld- the bone chilling freeze only rivaled by the cold of the End. Maybe that’s why the only creatures that lived in the valley were the ones who couldn’t feel. 

It wasn’t often any other creature found itself in the valley, it was far too cold for fire dwelling creatures like blazes or magma cubes, and piglins tend to stay far away as far too many of their kind fell victim to the sand which pulled on you and the cold which killed you. There were exceptions of course, and Technoblade had deemed his travel into the Soul Sand Valley an exception. 

Philza had been gone for two days. 

Two days wasn’t very much by many means, but he’d been staying in the Nether. The Nether was dangerous. Techno had never left the Nether, meeting Phil on one of his first visits to a local Bastion. Phil hadn’t been like many other humans, who’d opted to try and ransack the place. Instead, Phil had stood near the front, offering various items for trade- ease of getting a stock of Nether items. Techno had been younger then, looking upon the older man with the large wings with awe- and at his sword even more so. Techno had been too young to defend the Bastion, but not too young to train and spar, and Phil had the coolest sword he’d ever seen. 

The man came by many times to trade, bringing items they couldn’t obtain in the Nether, as well as precious materials. He’d even offered to help reconstruct broken areas of the Bastion, earning trust amongst local piglins. It was one of the days where he’d come to trade, where Phil wandered off to follow him as he left the area. He wanted to see what the man had been up to! He also wanted to know where he’d gotten the sword. 

They didn’t get far before the man had noticed the younger piglin following him. He found it amusing, and offered to talk. Techno had so many questions, and Phil had answered them all. This became a routine that lasted several years, and when Techno was old enough Phil taught him fighting techniques unique to the overworld. Techno had offered a room his home within a Crimson Forest to Phil, who’d grown to frequent the Nether at that point. They became good friends, Techno teaching Phil all he’d learned while growing up in the hellscape, and Phil had told him stories about the overworld. Techno wished he could see it. 

That brings him to the Soul Sand Valley, a cloak hugged tight to his shoulders to try and keep warm, although this attempt was ultimately in vain. Phil had told him two days ago he’d needed to gather some soul sand and bones for something, and Techno had let him, assuming he’d be home within a few hours- he almost nearly was. It had been two days. He feared the worst- this was the Nether after all, and it was unforgiving to humans. He’d followed his scent trail to the valley, but lost it there- anything that entered seemed to get lost, but he walked in anyway. There were only Skeletons and Ghasts, and large bone structures which Techno wished he’d never have to see what they belonged to. No sign of Phil. 

What if he’d been pulled under the sand? Slipped on gravel into the lava below? A ghast could have shot him- or maybe a skeleton. Phil was a skilled fighter but there were so many creatures, and the cold wouldn’t have let him fly easily. He bared his tusks, huffing at the thought. He had to find him, he had to find his friend- his...his friend. 

He spotted a patch of netherrack amongst the sand, noticing a cave, and decided to duck inside for cover, a breather from the harsh cold and the sand. He should’ve worn covers on his hooves- they were caked and filled with the brown sludge that coated the valley outside. Words chimed in his head to keep going. 

Search. Find. Protect. Phil is in danger. Friend. Family? E. 

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Phil had helped him braid it back two days prior- it was messy now, but that wasn’t a big worry for him. He had to find Phil. Techno’s senses had blurred together. He couldn’t catch the scent of Phil amongst the smell of sulfur and death, and all he could hear was the howling of wind and the distant cries of the damned. His fingers had started to go numb in the cold.

His break was short lived as he heard something- it was distant, but it was something- carried by the winds from far away. It wasn’t the usual cries and moans, or the clinking of bones. Techno shot up. He didn’t know what it was, but he hoped it was Phil, and he set out charging back into the cold and against the sand. He ran- as much as he could against the wind, shouting for his friend. He couldn’t lose Phil- he’d taught him so much over the years, he’d stuck by him. The other piglins didn’t have much of a sense or need to be affectionate or caring for one another, they worked based on survival and benefit, Phil had shown him friendship- he’d become his family. Techno wouldn’t let the Nether take away Phil.

It was an understatement that he’d grown fond and attached to the human. 

Techno stumbled as he spotted in the sand- a bucket hat, ripped and torn and- oh no. He picked up the pace, snatching up the hat as he ran, various spots of deep red littered the thing, and he only hoped that the blood- well he hoped it wasn’t Phil’s. His hooves hurt, they weren’t meant for the sand and the pull it had. He felt numb, but he kept going. 

Find Phil. Danger. Support. Danger. Blood? Blood. Blood. Blood.

He heard bows, bones, his senses strengthening with the chanting in his head. He smelt blood, and he ran. It was then when he spotted a portal- broken, a figure slumped against it with arrows littering his body. All Techno could see was green, but he knew- it was Phil, and the skeletons around- a fortress- wither skeletons...they’d hurt his family. Phil had tried to escape via a portal but they’d stopped him. 

There was a cry, and Techno’s head whipped over- ghast- fire charge. Everything moved fast, but Techno moved faster. 

Blood. Blood. Phil. Protect Phil. Blood. 

He pulled out a crossbow, signature of his kind, and shot the charge midair, sending it hurtling toward the portal, landing on the obsidian, and igniting the thing with a hum. Phil didn’t move. 

Kill. Destroy. Protect Phil. Portal. E. E. E. Family- family- dad- dadza? Phil!

Shoving his crossbow onto it’s hook on his belt, he quickly unsheathed his sword, and with quick movements slashed away at the skeletons near Phil before they had the chance. He slid by, grabbing a golden apple from his pocket, shoving it to Phil’s mouth, forcing him to bite. He stayed crouched beside him, shielding off arrows and the others from getting to him. Please don’t be dead- he didn’t know what he’d do if Phil had died. 

“Tech...techno?” Phil’s voice broke, coughing and sputtering as the apple worked its healing effects on him. Techno gave a small huff of relief.

“Don’t worry Phil, I’ve got you-” 

There was a cry, the ghast. He had seconds before the charge hit- and with no other option, Techno grabbed Phil around the waist, dragging him into the swirls of purple in the haze of the portal. He’d never been this close to one- he’d never felt its buzzing touch, how it made your skin vibrate and crawl. He’d only seen them from far distances or in books. The piglins had taught him a few life lessons when he was young. One of the first rules he’d learned…

Never go into a nether portal. 

But...he had no choice. There was a whir as the swirls danced in his vision, his hold on Phil tightening as suddenly they were thrown out of the portal, and Techno’s vision was met with bright light. 

[the-unknown-storyteller]

The Sight Of Such Pretty Things

Summary: Wilbur is dead and Ghostbur fills the place he has left behind, mending the broken relationships he has thrown aside.

Wilbur is dead, but Ghostbur is alive in the sense that he gets to experience all the little things his former self may have taken for granted.

Talking with Philza about the colour green, stargazing with Tommy until deep into the night and collecting wild potatoes with Techno remind him that he is not that person anymore. That these moments are his and his alone.

Nevermind the fact that he can't talk freely, breaching sensitive topics left and right and touching people with hands that can only seem to remind and hurt with memories he himself cannot remember.

__

It all starts with Philza. With him and his green-striped bucket hat that ignites an irrational interest in Ghostbur's mind. It's such a nice green, is all he can think, as he walks laps around Philza's living room, mindlessly chattering and rambling on about his day. 

His restless hands throw a small piece of lapis that he found the other day from side to side, palming it in his right hand whenever he raises his hands in exaggerated sweeps and gestures to accompany his excited words about his newest project.

"-saw it just the other day and I really wanted to build it and Tubbo said he didn't mind it, so I just went right ahead and, Phil, I just gotta say, it's coming along great! Fundy is helping me balance it properly, so that it won't topple over and accidentally crush the main walkways and-" 

Ghostbur can hear his father hum every now and then to let him know that he is listening, as he mends the latest rip in one of his green shirts. Green like the stripes on his bucket hat. Both his feet and his words come to a stop, strangely fixated. It's so green.

"Hey, Phil, have you ever noticed how green your bucket hat actually is?" Ghostbur drifts over to his father to get a closer look at his hat, his crane building story forgotten. "Like, it's really green. One might think that, with all the fighting and running it has probably endured, it must have definitely lost its colourfulness. But look!" He raises his hands to frame the hat, as though it were something exceptionally precious. "Still as green as the day you got it, I'm sure!", he exclaims with a grin, his face mere centimetres away from Phil's.

"Uh, thanks, I guess." Philza laughs awkwardly, shuffling on his seat. "Never knew you were this enthusiastic about green clothes, mate."

"Oh, I'm not," Ghostbur chirps, playing with his piece of lapis, "I just really like yours, especially your hat!" He rubs his thumb over the stone one last time before putting it away, missing the way Phil's smile becomes strained. 

"It's funny that you say that. Someone I knew had the exact same sentiment towards green," Phil says softly, pulling the bucket hat from his head, rubbing at the worn fabric. "Especially towards my hat."

"Oh, how fun! Who was it?" Ghostbur loses concentration in his excitement and can distantly feel his body slowly float upwards, rotating until he stands upside down on the ceiling. Unbothered, he keeps talking. "Maybe you could introduce us sometime and we could talk about the colour green, about your green! I don't know what-"

"I… I don't think that will be possible, mate. It's been some time since I last… saw them," Phil apologizes, his voice catching at the end of the sentence.

Ghostbur sinks back down to the floor with a frown. He's done it again. "Are you okay, Phil? Here, have some blue. Calm yourself," he says, folding his hand around the blue he's just placed in his father's hands. He knows he's upset him. He keeps upsetting everyone because he keeps forgetting what is taboo to talk about and what isn't. Apparently, Philza's bucket hat is one of those things. What a shame, he really likes how green it is.

__

Tommy lets his almost broken axe fall to the ground, before flopping down himself. Sitting next to the small fire he lets out an annoyed groan.

"You know, you could have helped me chop down those trees instead of just standing there, watching and shit", he scoffs, picking at the splinters in his hands. All afternoon he had been chopping down tree after tree. Probably for his tower, which was looming behind Tommy in the far distance.

Ghostbur gives him a smile, quietly picking at the strings of his guitar, as he ignores his complaint. The soothing melody accompanies the constant crackling of their campfire and the sizzling of the fish above the flames. He starts humming for a bit, letting his gaze wander, and then he starts talking. 

"You know, I think you're quite lucky, Tommy. To be out here-", he starts, rotating the fish to keep it from burning. He resumes his strumming.

"Wha-?! What the fuck are you saying, Wil-"

"Where there is barely any light to taint the night sky", Ghostbur continues, undeterred by Tommy's protest. He repositions his left hand and the song becomes a bit more somber, bringing down the mood of the conversation with the descending chord progression. "I mean, the sky is just so beautiful out here, look," he breathes, tilting his head upwards. He notices his little brother frowning in his peripheral, but he follows his instructions and looks up as well.

"And what am I supposed to be seeing?"

"The stars, Tommy!" A grin spreads across his grayed out cheeks. The soft strumming stops for a moment, as Ghostbur makes a sweeping motion across the horizon. "The stars." A breath of admiration leaves his empty lungs.

"What about them?", Tommy asks, an annoyed tint to his voice. He sounds exhausted. Maybe he should have helped with the wood chopping, actually. Next time, maybe. Because right now, all he can think about is the twinkling and shining of the stars above him. How has he never noticed how many there are? How bright they are?

"Are you not seeing the same thing I'm seeing? Look at the stars, the milky way, they're all so incredibly clear out here in the wilderness." A shooting star flies across the sky, making Ghostbur gasp in child-like glee. "Quick! Make a wish, Tommy!"

"That's stupid, Ghostbur. I'm not a stupid child, believing in something stupid such as-"

"Ah, come on, Tommy. What's the worst that could happen? Just make a wish with me." Ghostbur claps his hands together more forcefully than was really necessary and closes his eyes. He peeks at the boy in ragged and torn clothes next to him, looking more tired and broken than a boy his age should, and mouths his silent wish for his little brother to please, please, come out of this alright. 

"Your turn!" He smiles, quietly rubbing at a piece of blue from his messenger bag when he's done.

"Ugh, fine," Tommy groans. He claps his hands together and closes his eyes with much less enthusiasm than the former did. His lips don't move along with his silent wish, but Ghostbur trusts his sincerity. Knows that the other can't be anything but sincere in almost everything he does. Whether he wants to or not. After a few moments he opens them back up. "There, done," he grumbles, "happy?"

A grin in approval and a nod, making Tommy roll his eyes. A shiver runs down his arms with the dropping temperatures of the night. Ghostbur stands up without a word, dumping three thick blankets on top of the younger when he returns. Satisfied when Tommy is adequately bundled up for the night, he sits back down at his place in front of the fire, picking up his guitar from the ground, and begins to strum yet another melody, more soothing than somber this time. He leans back against the tree log behind him, continuing to play long after the other has finally fallen asleep, only occasionally stopping to throw a log in the flames to keep the fire going. His eyes stay fixed at the stars that are so much brighter than they ever were in any of his faded memories.

__

The third time he gets fixated on something arguably insignificant, he is with Techno. They're out on a hunt for wild potatoes, since most of his old crops lay abandoned in their old ravine and the few that he managed to take with him long ago were not enough to start a proper farm. 

So here they were, quite a few thousand blocks away from Techno's base, where the ground isn't permanently frozen and manages to support the occasional berry bushes and even some wild carrots. When they come across some tall yellow-white flowers, Techno immediately puts down his bag next to them and gets out his shovel. He plows through the dirt, bringing up large chunks with every scoop he takes. They're littered with the beautiful golden glow of potatoes. 

Ghostbur floats up to the piglin, watching him check every potato he finds and throw the good ones in his bag. The dirt, damp with recently fallen rain, sticks to Techno's clothes, getting stuck in the fur of his red cape and leaving dirty smudges on his crown whenever he adjusts it. Ghostbur tilts his head, feeling a strangely familiar itch in his hands, urging him to go, go, touch it, touch it now, take it. He ignores it.

It's dirty.

"You know, I've always been curious, Techno." He picks up one of the bigger potatoes on the ground to keep his hand busy and turns it over in his hand, looking for any faults on its skin. He throws it up in the air a few times, judging its weight. "Why are you so… fascinated with them?" He throws the large potato, which the other catches easily. His eyes drift down to the red of his cape and the white of his fur collar, clumps of dirt and mud spread throughout. He tears his gaze away. "I remember you having a large farm in the ravine and I think I've never seen you eat anything other than a baked potato." 

"I do not only eat baked potatoes," Techno protests, picking up his bag and walking towards the next yellow-white flower cluster he sees in the close distance. The ghost follows with impossibly light steps.

"I only eat them most of the time," he admits, driving his shovel into the ground. He throws his falling cape back over his shoulder, ignoring the way it accidentally gets dragged through a muddy puddle next to him.

"Which is most of the time if we're being honest," Ghostbur remarks with a grin, his hands still itch with the thought of Techno's red cape getting dirty, he's always so careless with it, the white fur is getting ruined. He starts plucking the yellow-white flowers, delighted when he finds a slightly purple variant of it.

"Because they are clearly the superior food source," Techno shoots back, throwing the last potato in his bag. He notices that Ghostbur's is still completely empty except for a piece of lapis and the sack full of blue that he is so fond of carrying and handing out. With a sigh, he keeps moving. They change location a few more times, whenever the ground has no more potatoes to give, until both bags are finally filled to the brim.

Satisfied with the amount, Techno puts his shovel away and they start the trek back to his base. The sun is only two hours away from setting and they're quite a long way away from home, so Techno picks up his pace, pulling the ghost with him, away from the bees and their nest in the tree.

With nothing to preoccupy his hands Ghostbur takes out his piece of lapis, running his fingers over its rough ridges. His crown is smudged with mud.

"There is dirt on your crown," Ghostbur points out, looking up at Techno's head with a frown. "And your cape." He picks at some clumps of mud and pulls out a few small twigs.

"It's fine, I can just wash it, when we get back." And that's that. Except Ghostbur knows that Techno will just hang it up at the entrance, brushing off the worst of the by then dried mud the next time he has to go out and wear it. How does he know that. Now that he's pointed it out and begun cleaning it, the itch in his hands has grown to be unbearable. This feels familiar. He won't be able to clean the cape right away without any soap or water, he's always so careless with it, never properly taking care, and his crown is dirty with mud.

"Give it to me," Ghostbur suddenly demands, extending his hand towards Techno's crown. Why is this so important to me? "Give me your crown." The piglin raises an eyebrow at the demand, but hands over the golden crown with a shrug, curious as to what has the ghost riled up so suddenly.

Ghostbur snatches the crown from the other's hand and starts to clean it with the fabric of his sweater. The mud that has since dried slowly flakes off and reveals the shiny surface underneath. He almost obsessively rubs at the inlaid jewels, scratching away the dirt. He turns it over a few times when he is done and returns it to his owner with a slight huff. "Please take better care of it next time."

Techno chuckles at the ghost antics, but his brows are pulled together and he looks anything but amused. He doesn't hide his small frown fast enough.

Ghostbur mentally adds Techno's crown to the taboo list, as they continue walking home. At least the itching in his hands has stopped.

[heli0s-writes]

As it Was

Summary:  Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound, returned to the timeline he ran from: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST. Re-written Post-endgame kinda thing because I’m bitter. 3.3k word count. Very inspired by Hozier’s “As it Was” :^) 

As it Was Masterpost

There is a roadway.

The tires crunch over rock and gravel as Steve drives down the familiar path. Flanked by overgrown grass and wildflowers in full bloom, insects flutter around the petals, sunlight glistening on waxy blades of green. He can smell it, even inside the car, ignited in his nose and blazing into his chest.

The smell of summer. The crushed earth beneath muddied boots.

He can taste the watermelon sugar, tingling on the sweet tongue encased in an even sweeter mouth.

Your bright pink lips wet with cold bites of fruit. He loved the way you would collect the smooth seeds and pinch them between your teeth. He loved the way you’d spit them into his face—silly with joy under the shade of a tree. Too slow, baby!

He can hear your laughter in the dead air-conditioned chamber of one of many compound cars. If he could bottle it up into a music box and wind it up just to hear now, he would.

He would.

Steve’s heart twists tighter as the road continues its winding way deeper through the thicket of verdant trees. Sunlight pours through in golden rays, slipping past the cracks of parted leaves. A pathway the two of you walked many times over, hand-in-hand.

There’s a separation of the blades to the left, a well-worn spot leading into an open space where you would spread the picnic blanket, stuff him full of cold cut sandwiches and fruit pie. Iced lemonade, tart. Then, under the light of the sun, or moon, or any time or season in-between, you would wrap yourself over him, love him so sweetly he could weep now.

But then is not now.

For the past three years of your time, then had been now.

But now that he’s back... now is something else.

His phone rings, echoing through the car with its shrill tittering. Sam’s number appears, as it has been every five minutes for the past two hours of his journey. Sam calling. Sam leaving messages. Sam texting.

Don’t, Cap. Don’t go there. It’s changed, Cap. Things have changed. Trust me, man. It’s better if you don’t go.

But Steve has to. He has to change your mind. Make you forgive him because he loves you so much. He has to make it all go back to as it was.

Back then, on the platform, he had been sure. In the sepia-colored minutes of his wayward past, he had been sure. That unreachable possibility had become so nearly tangible he could grab it in his hands. He was inches from her—from Peggy, and it took him decades away from you.

So, he leapt. He followed his foolish boyish heart to its dream. He told you the night before under the awning in front of the cabin, windchimes striking in the draft, fireflies all around. He’s never been a part of this world, not truly. He’s got to go back to where he belongs.

With Peggy, you mean?

You cried and cried then, wrapping your arms around your middle, refusing to say anything else, and he had never seen you so shattered. But he had been sure.

And then, only four weeks into the returned years of Steve Rogers, suddenly, like a cold hand tugging him awake, the dream slipped.

He wasn’t sure after all.

Sam calls again, but Steve is obstinate. The cabin peeks over the hill, sunken in the distance of the field just as he remembered—the little cobblestoned well in the field, string lights around the perimeter, mailbox at the edge of the road, rainbow pinwheels you’d planted in the ground because they’re cute, Steve.

From the thick branch of the oak tree you have hung a tire swing-- endearing, and so like you. Next to it is a picnic table where a single copper watering can sits in the middle, bunches of wildflowers sticking out. A tangle of yellow and green. Like your arms wrapped around his waist, linked fingers squeezing him tightly, playfully, pretending you could crush him.

Gonna kill you! Crack ya ribs!

He would grunt dramatically behind a muffled chuckle, Yes, baby. I’ve died! You’re so—ugh! Strong! B-Bucky! Avenge me!

Bucky would roll his eyes with a smirk, You two are nauseating.

You would stick your tongue out, turn it back around to Steve and lick a stripe from his throat to his chin, making him shudder all over as he watched your pretty pink mouth curl into a grin, and growl. Steven Grant Rogers, growled, and Bucky‘d throw his hands up and abscond before his eyes might see Captain America do something indecent.

He didn’t have that with Peggy. He didn’t have the twinkling of your mischievous eyes, the flame of your passion. He only had the bitter chill of your absence and the stark realization that a first love and a true love are two different things.

Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same.

How long would you wait for me?

Steve pulls the car into the patch of trodden grass he once parked in, steps out, and closes the door quietly. There’s a clattering inside before the wooden door creaks open— as it always has, even after he loosened and tightened all its hinges— it still creaks, same as ever.

Your shape in the doorway.

One leg at a time, you emerge.

A weightless gauze dress hangs from your frame as you linger in the opening, back turned to him. In one hand is a small twine basket lined with gingham fabric. A pair of garden shears sit nestled inside. He remembers this— the walks to clip flowers and pick berries. You would put the berries in the pies, place the blossoms and leaves in mason jars all over the countertops until it looked wild in the house, too.

Your hair is longer, he smiles as he continues to watch, gazing at the loose braid you’ve fashioned your locks into. You used to complain about how fast it would grow, annoyed at how the buzzed side with the sharp chevron pattern needed to be maintained closely.

He supposes you’ve grown tired of the upkeep. You’ve let it grow out now.

The braid is new. The dress is new. But the way you lean into the house, so relaxed and carefree, that is familiar.

Steve is unsure how to approach. He doesn’t want to startle you, even though his very presence is startling. He knows your capabilities, and with those razor-sharp shears next to your elbow he wouldn’t try it. No, you couldn’t crush his ribs, but you could slice him gullet to belly in a second.

He opens his mouth to call your name, but the door creaks louder as you lean down and push it further back into the house, urging faintly. You turn, duck your torso behind the wall, leaving a deliberate space by your legs.

And then he sees it. The change Sam warned him about. The life.

His heart drops. And trembles. And feels like it could burst entirely.

Two tiny bare feet tap forward, kicking with each step. A happy, shrill, cry leaps into the air as the boy clumsily jumps one foot at a time, and lands past your dress.

The child.

“Wait for me, baby,” you call, still tucked halfway inside, “Wait for mama.”

“Mama!” He sputters and giggles, “Mama!” Mama.

God. The boy is beautiful. He is barefoot and his face is eclipsed by a canvas bucket hat, shielding the plump, pale skin of him from the summer sun. Even if Steve can’t see his face yet, he knows, because of you, any child would be perfect. A cherub. A little cherub that could have been his.

“I’m coming, just… let me get my hat. And sunscreen for you. Ah, mama has been so bad with that sunscreen.” There is more fumbling as you drop the basket on your arm into the dark house and briefly slip inside.

The boy stops at the step leading down, pondering his own confidence to tread forward. He sits, instead, letting his bottom save any potential fall before he scoots his legs over. After braving the first step, he looks up. He blinks slowly, and Steve catches sight of his enormous blue eyes, and long lashes, button nose, rosy red cheeks, slightly open mouth slack with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

“Mama.” He says, before tilting his head, “Mama, Mama. Body! Some here.”

“Someone’s here?”

You quickly emerge, hand fisting a wide-brimmed straw hat, arm reaching forward to scoop your child up and away. He is plopped firmly on your jutting left hip before you tear the hat off your head, stare into the tall and broad figure of a man you have known too well. A surprised breath tears itself from your throat.

“Steve?”

His mouth jerks into a careful smile. Nothing he had practiced during the car ride feels right in this moment; all his words have been tossed into the yard by the hands of a three-year-old boy. The hat drops from your hand, quietly slides on the dusty wooden patio, speckles of it catching light and blowing away in the easy wind. You blink, eyes shifting side to side as if questioning your reality.

“Steve?”

His name slips off your tongue so sweetly and he can’t help but close his eyes to memorize you again. That voice, his name, the years have passed, and he hasn’t forgotten it. He is so goddamn sorry to have left it at all.

From the first time you called it, to the first time you whispered it, promised your allegiance to it, to the first time you sobbed it, following him into the unknown and the darkness for five years. No matter how black the night, he had you.

Your love was unmoved.

“Sweetheart,” He pleas, stepping forward with a shaky outstretched hand.

You stand frozen like a statue, everything stiff and still except for the fluttering of your creamy dress and the boy on your hip, babbling freely. His little fingers and their little fingernails prod and poke at your neck, grabbing onto the strands that frame your face—too short to stay in the braid.

God. You’re beautiful. You glow, softened by the years without fighting and training, tanned by the sunlight, kissed by the breeze and rain and butterfly wings, and everything else but him.

“Mama, mama. Want down, down!”

The boy squeezes and releases his soft fists, reaching out and kicking your back with his foot. He begins to grunt and whine, head thrown behind and lolling over at Steve. “Down!”

“Hey,” Steve smiles, taking a finger to caress the boy’s palm, calming his motions, “What’s your name?”

You slowly turn to look at your child, eyes beginning to focus on him, as if suddenly remembering his weight perched on your side. A quick breath is sucked into your lungs as he blinks and grins, laughing. “Jams! This is mama an’ this is Jams.”

“J-James.” You correct with a broken, wet, laugh, “H-he’s.. his name—it’s James.”

Steve watches him continue to thrash against your side out of joy, now, as if being held by you is a game in itself. He brings your hair to his mouth, blubbering into it, giggling when it tickles his face. He taps on your collar with a finger, gnaws impishly on your shoulder until a line of drool trickles down. Then, he laughs again, and pushes his cheeks into it, hugging your bicep tightly.

The boy—the angel—James. Steve feels himself clench up with the new knowledge. His name is James.

“James?” There is betrayal in the way he questions it. As much as he tries to steel it, a tiny rupture creeps through the single syllable.

You pull the boy close to your body, maneuvering until you’re holding him with both arms, one slanted over his back, the other under his bottom. He sighs and leans his head onto your shoulder, makes soft noises of contentment. “Mama… walk? Go for a walk, mama.”

Between your overcast eyes and Steve’s inspecting blue ones, James is tucked like a pebble in a cobblestone wall, desperately holding back the torrent from both sides. You grip him unwaveringly, shush him now for the time being.

“Is he—Bucky? He’s Bucky’s?”

Steve inspects the front yard, the blindingly hopeful curtain finally lifting from his eyes—there are three seats on the porch, three flowers painted on the mailbox, three little stumps further away surrounding an extinguished fire.

A home—his home, his place, now filled in with the bulk of someone else. And not just anyone else, he thinks bitterly, but Bucky. His best friend, now his old lover’s new lover. It spins him out of control.

Your face scrunches up with disdain, mouth twisting into a scowl he’s known rarely, but still—he knows it.

“Yes, Steve.” You spit, nostrils flaring with anger, “He’s named after his father. He’s named after his real father.”

Steve frowns, broken-hearted, apologetic, confused. Your eyes have welled up with unshed tears, your lips pinched tightly together, as if holding back your words will keep the tears at bay, too. He doesn’t know what you mean as he stares vacantly at your protective stance.

But then he sees it.

He sees it when James grunts, bored now of a conversation that is years beyond his interest and comprehension. He beats his fists on your chest and leans back in agony.

His hat tumbles from his crown. Down, down, it falls noiselessly and when Steve looks back up to where his perfect little head is—returned to your collar, he sees brilliant flaxen curls, catching sunbeams.

Blindingly gold—almost white.

James twists his little body around and stares at Steve with some mysterious indulgence now that they are both wholly revealed to each other.

“He was there for me, you know.” You whisper, heavy teardrops running down to your chin, pooling until they barely hang on. “He was there the entire time. Nine whole agonizing months, knowing that I was growing something that was yours. I had nobody but Bucky.”

You press your lips to James’ head, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin, “I was out of my mind with grief. Th-thought, I couldn’t—I couldn’t have it. Couldn’t have a baby that was yours—you’d left me. You left what we had for something that was barely a dream, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t.”

“Bucky was there.” You continue, ignoring Steve’s confession. He bites his tongue, hopes it draws blood, hopes in secret you might take his very life from him. He can’t stand to be alive anymore, staring now at two people he left behind.

“Bucky was there, and he loved me through it. And when this little… when this sweet boy—” you press your eyes to his forehead, “When this boy came, we held each other and wept.”

A little laugh is muffled in James’ hair.

“So, yeah. He’s named after his real father, not his biological one.”

James leans his face towards yours, places his palms onto your cheek and pats the wetness away, “Mama. No more rain, mama. Mama, sunny outside.”

You burst apart, crumbling into tears against his little palm, pressing kisses to his fingertips, and Steve crumbles too. The boy, the precious boy, who is both his and not his, turns and looks at him earnestly. You whisper to him, kiss him on the cheek, Mama’s okay, baby. Mama’s got you with her now. Sunshine boy.

And then you turn your eyes to him. Those once doting eyes he always found gazing longingly, even after he was yours. Now they cut him, sharp and cold, holding him in their deep, dark light.

“You need to leave, before he comes home.” You whisper over the sound of insect wings and birds in the distance. The trees rustle and sway, as if egging your words on.

Home. Your home is with Bucky. Not Steve, not anymore.

“He’ll want to see you, but not like this.”

He wouldn’t even know what to say to Bucky. He wouldn’t know what to expect to hear, either. You and Bucky, and his son—your son, Steve’s son, Bucky’s son. All strung up together in a terrible web, waiting for the spider.

Somehow, he feels like the spider.

“Steve,” you call, and for a second, he hears it lovingly. Like how you might have called his name in front of the fireplace, nestled in his arms, snow settling in sheets outside. Steve, I love you.

“Steve.” It’s firm again, hard and cutting, ice chips crunched through your teeth, “When you left, you left Bucky, too. In your absence, we found each other. You didn’t just break me, Steve; you broke him. And you need to go, because I won’t let you do that to him again.”

You don’t have to say it, but he can parse it from your clenched jaw and the way you aim your words at him. You love Bucky.

The trajectory of the truth burns straight through his guts. It churns and twists and drugs his entire being until it leaves every last cell numb.

Once upon a time, you loved him, too.

But that was before he knew the darkness, before he knew the possibility and lost himself in the what if, the then, burning away the now and the love he already had.

You set James down softly in the dirt after landing soft kisses to his cheeks, watch his toes flex and grip the grass. He places the hat back over his head, lopsided, but on, regardless. He bounces on his feet, bending his knees and getting a feel for the ground beneath him. The silly ritual completes when he pads away, chasing a hovering dragonfly. Every few seconds, he looks back and laughs.

Steve’s heart cracks open with every inch of the boy’s smile.

The two of you stand for what seems like an eternity, trying to find something to end it on. He can’t do anything more than laugh resentfully, because if he doesn’t, he’ll cry, and he’ll never stop. It comes out as two clipped scoffs before he splinters anyway.

So, he nods, accepts the defeat he’s given himself and lets the tears trickle down his face to match you. Blinking the sea from your eyes, you sniffle loudly and turn, splitting the grass with your feet to follow the trail James has made into the field.

Pulling out of the driveway, Steve watches you next to your son, his son, Bucky’s son— that beautiful boy, blue-eyed like both of them. You bend and lift him, toss him gently, nuzzle him and smile before you take him down into the grass and continue the walk away from the house. He plucks flowers and raises them up and you let him tuck them inelegantly into your braid, still lovely.

Steve closes his eyes one last time to sear the image into his mind. He interjects himself into the scene, walking hand-in-hand down that habitual path. He imagines James on his hip, stares into the phantom face of that boy of his, your laughter ringing next to him like the wind. He laughs and laughs, and cries and cries. And then, he drives until the house is gone from the rearview mirror.

No, it will never be as it was again.

The dream, honeyed, sweet, as beautiful as it may be, it would only be half as beautiful as the truth could have been. Half as beautiful as the boy. Half as beautiful as you.

Next

[kriffingunlucky]

Would you mind doing a snowy walk with Boil please?

It would be the least I could do, for him, and for you! He’s a sweetheart and it’s wonderful to know someone else as a soft spot for him. Sorry this is short! :’)

-------------------------------

It was cold. Very cold. Boil couldn’t help but shiver as he kept up his circling of the 212th’s base, walking along the outside walls by himself, his shoes hitting the metal and clunking more softly than usual because of the snow now sticking to the bottoms.

He rubbed his hands together, and even though his suit was supposed to be thermal, he felt the nipping of the cold nonetheless. “At least I don’t have much longer out here,” He speaks quietly to himself, a sarcastic bite to it. “Oh wait, I do. Another whole two hours.”

“Is it routine to talk to yourself?” He heard a gentle voice tease, as quick, bouncing crunchy footsteps approach his side. “Or is it because Waxer isn’t here to complain to?”

“Hello, (Y/n).” Boil nods his helmeted head, addressing his and his partners friend as they matched their pace to his. “What brings you outside?”

(Y/n) laughs lightly, shoving their hands in the parka they sport’s pockets. Breathing out deeply through the nose. “Didn’t want you to be all alone out here.”

Boil almost snorts. Being reminded again why they and Waxer got along so well. Just two kind, idiotic souls, trying to do their best for the people around them. Although Waxer was a soldier and (Y/n) was a medic, they quickly had bonded over the care for their friends. And the friend they cared for the most, he soon found out, was him. So he had to deal with their constant love and attention. And while he’ll admit, sometimes he didn’t mind their care for him. It made him feel so majorly overwhelmed. Especially the attention from (Y/n), for reasons he doesn’t want to come to terms with yet.

“It’s too cold for you out here,” The worn down clone breathes. “You should go back in before you have to thaw your fingertips.”

(Y/n) holds out their hands. Wiggling the gloved fingers. “I’m all bundled up, y’see? No need to fret about me, grumpy.”

Letting out another long sigh, Boil doesn’t argue. Knowing better than that. Instead he just keeps trudging through the icy ground covering. Listening to his friend’s footsteps matching his pace, smiling under his helmet as they hook their arm around his. Draping their hand over where his wrist is. Rubbing circles with their thumb, massaging his skin through the thick fabric of her bodysuit.

“You always take these extra shifts when Waxer catches a cold,” (Y/n) begins, laughing lightly. “And act like it’s not a big deal. But you really do care.”

They take a couple more steps in silence, then the (e/c) eyed medic bumps him with their hip. “It’s sweet.”

That does draw a sound out of Boil, but it was just a loving laugh. “The idiot gets sick easily, since he likes to take his bucket off and he doesn’t even have any hair-”

That made the pair laugh.

“-but I don’t like seeing him suffer. Even if he deserves it sometimes.”

“He should just wear a hat, that’d help.” (Y/n) points out.

Boil shakes his head. “That’s what I’ve said. But he says it’s uncomfy to wear under his helmet, before he can take it off.”

“Why doesn’t he just carry it then?”

“We aren’t supposed to take our helmets off out here. Somebody would ask questions.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) hums. “I see his dilemma.”

The two continued to chat about their friend, then the snow, then drinks useful to get warm after patrol and (Y/n) mentions how they can knit. And that starts an entirely different string of conversations, but pleasant ones. Granted, any conversation with these two is pleasant. They never interrupt each other, and can tell strories at their own pace, no interjections or belittlement. They’ve always had this special connection, and Waxer won’t let them forget it either.

Moving to take the other’s hand, Boil intertwines their fingers warmly. Swinging their arms as they walked and continued to speak on random topics. Or even nothing at all. They were close enough to just walk in a comfortable, gentle silence. Not worried about the world around them.

[dreamingabouthendery]

Soarin’ (m)

pairing: jaemin x reader

au: disneyland worker!jaemin and reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 6.4k

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of drugs (you’ll see), descriptions of sick? slight tainting of childhood (not enough to scar), controversial opinions (but not literally), unfunny humour

specific smut warnings (in case you dont want spoilers): fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex (but assume character is on the pill), semi-public sex?

summary: You have worked at Disneyland since the first year of uni, which has all but destroyed your ideals of magic. But when a new boy becomes the Mickey to your Minnie, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the bright-eyed newbie. Maybe Disneyland is magic, afterall. (this sucks im so sorry)

very, very heavily inspired by this thread on reddit. also, i hope you enjoy! any feedback will be much appreciated (this is my first fic as im sure youll be able to tell)

Ah, Disneyland, ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’. If you’re a child, that is. Not only can you meet your favorite characters who are probably doing lines in the back between rounds, but you have the honour of being able to watch them dangle helplessly from a wire during the firework display and narrowly avoid death. It’s no wonder you’ve been working there since your first year of uni.

‘Johnny told me there’s a new Mickey coming today.’ Eva, Princess Tiana and, quite frankly, the only decent princess in the whole park, says. She’s currently struggling to pull the long, white gloves over her own blue plastic pair of gloves she puts on for ‘safety reasons’ - her words, not yours. Though, it’s not like you can blame her when the outfits only get washed...well, never.

The two of you are currently the only two in the spacious dressing room which is permanently accompanied by the stench of sweat clinging to the walls, especially since it’s summer.

‘Oh, really?’ You ask from in front of her on the worn wooden bench, pulling your clunky yellow shoes on that dwarf your feet in their enormous size. It took you months to be able to walk in them without constantly tripping. Thankfully, it seems they at least got a wash after being puked on a few days ago.

She nods, moving towards the vanity and smoothing down a stray hair. ‘I know, it didn't take them long. Poor Jeremy, though.’

You hum in agreement. Jeremy ran into some trouble whilst covering a shift for the Donald Duck regular, resulting in a few broken ribs, a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. Or so the NDA requires you to say, anyway. Needless to say he quit on the spot.

‘____?’ You turn and see Johnny, your manager, making his way over to you with a cute guy in tow. ‘This is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is ____. He’s the new weekend Mickey regular. I need you to show him around Toontown discreetly,’ He gives you a pointed look to remind you that your characters aren’t supposed to talk. ‘And then you can camp out in Mickey’s House until the attractions close.’

You smile at Jaemin and he smiles back sheepishly as Johnny walks away without another word. Jaemin has arguably the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, accompanied by the prettiest lips and the prettiest - is that too many ‘pretty’s? -  twinkling eyes and you can wholeheartedly say you have no problem showing him around ‘discreetly’.

‘Hi, Jaemin.’ You say, suddenly aware of your current state of half-dress with your suit still unzipped and bunched around your waist. You catch him glancing at your exposed top-half and quickly zip up the back before clearing your throat and gesturing towards the locker opposite yours. ‘Mickey’s suit is usually kept in there.’

‘Uh, thanks.’ He turns quickly before looking back at you, clearly not wanting to ask you to leave but not wanting to change in front of you.

‘Meet you outside?’ You take the hint and stand up, grabbing Minnie’s head and placing it over your own.

He nods gratefully and you leave.

‘You’ll have to get used to that, you know.’ You say quietly as he joins you. For a late Saturday afternoon in the summer, the park isn’t as busy as usual; only the occasional family loiters in Toontown, though in the distance you can see the beginnings of a crowd forming in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle in preparation for the fireworks as the sun begins to set.

‘Used to what?’

‘To seeing other cast members undressed and to them seeing you undressed.’ You say simply, waving to a child with a short brown bob and bucket hat that’s walking towards you as you head slowly from the staff area towards Goofy’s Playhouse. The child stops and asks both of you for your autographs, something that every Disney cast member has to perfect before they get to wear their suit.

‘Right,’ He mutters when she leaves. ‘What happened to the guy before me?’

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, momentarily forgetting you can’t see his face. ‘What’ve you heard?’

‘Nothing, why?’

You sigh. ‘He was jumped by some asshole teenagers. You don’t need to worry, though,’ You add quickly at his sharp intake of breath. ‘You aren’t dressed as Donald Duck so you should be fine.’ You joke.

He laughs slightly at that. ‘Who thought dressing up as a kids’ character could be so dangerous?’

‘Oh, you have no idea.’ You laugh, a little too loudly, drawing more attention to yourself than usual but automatically correct your pitch to match Minnie Mouse’s. You wave at the kids that turn to look at you and they hurry over, asking to take pictures. After they run back to their parents, you turn to Jaemin and ask, ‘So, why did you apply for the job?’

‘Wow, it’s like a second interview.’ You shake your head, mumbling a quick apology. ‘I’ve never actually been to Disneyland before, and you know,’ He gestures his hand aimlessly. ‘This is supposed to be The Most Magical Place on Earth’ - he quotes - ‘so, I guess I wanted to experience the magic firsthand.’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom.’ You correct automatically.

‘Huh?’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom’s motto. Ours is ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’.’

‘Huh. I guess there is a difference, then.’

‘Of course there’s a difference. Magic Kingdom isn’t nearly as good as Disneyland.’ You say simply.

Jaemin snorts. ‘I’m sorry I offended you.’

‘Anyway,’ You say, ‘If you’re looking for a magical experience, you’re coming at it from the wrong angle.’

‘Exactly how bad is it to work here?’ He questions, though you can hear a hint of amusement in his tone.

‘The best I can give you is unforgettable.’ You would explain to him the number of times you’ve caught both members of the public and workers having sex in various places including on various rides, and how Haunted Mansion is notorious for having people leave their loved one’s ashes in it despite the fact they just get vaccumed up, but it’s only his first day and you don’t want to scare him off.

‘Gotcha.’ He merely says and you continue on to show him the Chip ‘n’ Dale Treehouse, your favorite place in Toontown. At night, the treehouse is lit in such a way as to make it whimsical, the ragged branches no longer menacing as they are during the daytime. You can’t complain at the fact that it’s quiet due to the fact that most people overlook it, either, instead mistaking it as decoration and not an actual attraction that you can go in.

This makes it the perfect place to hide out in the nighttime, when people are busy with the most popular attractions and has made it sort of an escape to you. Well, that and it’s given you a bad back.

You pause in front of Mickey’s House. ‘This is your crib,’ you joke. ‘Are you ready for your first official shift?’ You say, feigning drama in your tone.

‘Oh, gee, Minnie, I sure am!’ He replies in Mickey’s tone, emulating it perfectly and making both of you crack up.

‘I have to warn you, though, expect your arm to go dead within the first few minutes from all the waving.’

‘Noted. This job isn’t going to give me carpal tunnel syndrome, is it?’ He asks, only half serious.

‘No, but it may make you hate kids.’

He chokes, but before he can say anything in reply, a small boy who looks about four illustrates your point by pulling down his denim shorts and taking a dump right on the tarmac next to the hideous grey mouse-shaped letterbox.

You can read Jaemin’s horror in his speechlessness as you merely sigh and pull out your radio to call in, ‘We have a code Pooh outside Mickey’s House, over.’

As you walk in your front door to your shared apartment with your roommate, Ailee, you catch her and her boyfriend, Sam, making out on the couch in the living room. You two met in the first week of uni when you both ended up at some frat party that you hated and hit it off.

‘Ew, gross, guys. You have a bedroom, you know.’ You say, throwing your bag on the coffee table and slumping down on the couch next to them, sinking into the plush white cushions.

Ailee merely throws her head back and laughs before saying, ‘Tell me all about it.’

You frown. ‘About what?’

She tuts at you impatiently. ‘Work, duh. Everyday you come home it’s been a bad day,’ She plays with a few strands of your hair comfortingly. ‘So, tell me about it.’

You scrunch your nose up. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary happened.’ You say simply, looking at your nails.

Sam laughs. ‘Even I know you look at your nails when you’re lying, ____.’

Your mouth falls open in shock, offended. ‘I do not.’ You insist and scowl internally.

‘You do,’ Ailee agrees. ‘But it’s okay, that doesn’t matter right now. What’s the juicy story for today?’

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m glad my misery is so entertaining. The only thing that’s different is that there’s a new weekend Mickey regular.’

Ailee and Sam share a pointed look. ‘And?’ She asks, drawing out the syllable.

‘And he’s cute. I guess.’ You add as an afterthought.

Ailee snorts. ‘You guess?’

You groan. ‘Okay, he’s cute, period.’ You concede.

‘So, ask him out.’

‘Can’t. It’s against the rules.’ You mumble.

She gives you an exasperated look. ‘____, sweetie, you’re the most lax person with a job still in the whole park. What’s one date to you that nobody knows about?’

You bite your lip. She does have a point. You think about how cute Jaemin was when he was nervous to greet the kids at the House and hide your grin.

‘She’d have to actually see him again, though, right?’ Sam interjects, interrupting your daydream.

‘Sam, don’t be such a Debby downer.’ Ailee whines.

Whilst it’s true that cast members in a couple usually split up, you doubt they would make Jaemin do his second shift on his own. Resolving to pluck up the courage to ask him out, you go to bed that night apprehensive about the following day.

Apparently God is punishing you for some unknown reason, because you don’t see Jaemin at all that day, or the week after. In fact, you don’t even catch a glimpse of him or the big round ears that are telling of Mickey’s character.

Eve informs you that Johnny teamed him up with Goofy for ‘variety’, meanwhile you’re being sent over to Soarin’ in Grizzly Peak, the most boring area in the whole park due to its unpopularity. You can’t help but worry slightly about Jaemin, though, thinking of the previous time you saw Daniel, Goofy’s actor, when he pulled a flask from seemingly nowhere inside his costume and took a long, deep drink before heading back out, slightly stumbling.

Before you step out, Bella, the girl who plays Cinderella (no, the irony is not lost on you), stops you and says, ‘Oh, ____, I heard the new Mickey Mouse arrived yesterday. Fingers crossed you don’t scare him into quitting, too.’ Ever since you auditioned for the part of Cinderella and lost it to her, Bella has taken to rubbing your inferiority in your face every chance she gets.

You roll your eyes and Eve says back, ‘Oh, fuck off, Bella,’ She turns to you. ‘She’s just jealous ‘cause she thinks he’s cute and he hasn’t even acknowledged her yet.’

You snort as Bella narrows her eyes and stomps away as best she can in her flimsy costume heels.

‘He was asking after you when he came in earlier, you know.’ Eve says.

‘Jaemin was?’

She hums before saying, ‘He looked so disappointed to be paired up with Goofy.’

You feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile. ‘Really?’

Eve looks at you knowingly. ‘Yep, said he wanted to thank you for being so understanding yesterday since no one wants to babysit the newbee.’

‘I’d happily babysit the newbee anytime if they looked like that.’ You say and Eve laughs.

Whilst you’re at the most boring attraction in the park, the day is still no less than eventful. You encounter a child stuck in a tree trying to skip the line for Anna and Elsa’s Royal Welcome on your way to the bathroom due to the nearest one being blocked off. After you manage to actually use the bathroom, you’re surprised to see Elsa herself there, half-dressed at the sink and you can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason the line is so long. To top it all off, one of the only times you manage to fill the ride at Soarin’, you notice a couple getting on while holding a backpack that’s moving and alert the ride operators. When they finally report back to you that there was a six-month-old baby in there, they have to convince you not to ring child protective services.

After you slam your locker closed in the deserted dressing room, you sink down on the rigid bench, putting your head in your hands and massaging your growing headache.

‘____,’ A voice starts and you jump, looking up to see Johnny standing above you, clipboard in hand. He barely gives you a second glance when he startles you, instead pretending not to notice and continuing, ‘I need you next Friday for a grad night.’

You groan. Grad nights are the worst events Disneyland continuously puts on, in the past coming second only to Nights of Joy, the annual Christian festival, before it was cancelled for good. Even the managers rejoiced in the abolition of Nights of Joy. ‘Can’t you find someone else to be Minnie? Everyone knows how bad grad nights are.’

Johnny sighs. ‘Fine, then. I’ll put you on watching the cameras for Star Tours with Jaemin.’

You ignore the way you want to immediately jump on the chance for some one-on-one time with Jaemin and raise an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you not supposed to do that? You know, because he’s new and I’m not trained in…’ You trail off at the glare he’s giving you and purse your lips, nodding your head in acceptance.

‘Great, thanks.’ He says sarcastically and walks out.

At least the next time you return to Hell on Earth it won’t be in a Minnie costume.

You feel strange as you unlock and push open the door to the CCTV monitor room. If you had to put money on it, you would say it’s because this isn’t your job and you technically shouldn’t be here, but you’re not much of a gambler.

The heavy metal door gives way, opening to a small room with roughly fifty monitors, each displaying the Star Tours ride, the attraction itself as a whole and the surrounding area. You note the odd statue opposite the entrance that you don’t remember the name of - the satellites surrounding a distinct shape that is rocket-like. You shake your head internally at the sight. Why are the only pretty decorations reserved for Fantasyland?

You also note the dim red lighting and frown in confusion as your eyes land on Jaemin, sitting in an office chair in front of the wall of screens, wearing the same uniform consisting of a pale blue shirt and black trousers as you, except wearing it a hundred times better.

He turns upon your entrance, smiling as he takes in your attire. ‘I thought I’d set the mood with some lighting.’ He grins cheekily.

‘Oh?’ You say, stepping into the room, locking the door behind you. ‘What mood is that exactly?’

His smile grows wider as he says, ‘Adventure. We’re in for a night, so I hear.’

You groan, ‘You’ll wish you never agreed to doing this.’ You make your way to the chair next to his, sitting down on the flat cushion and leaning back.

‘How bad can it really be? These are literally a bunch of eighteen-year-olds who aren’t of legal drinking age yet and they’re supervised.’

You shook your head in mock sympathy. ‘Sweet, sweet, naive boy,’ You say. ‘Now you’ve jinxed it.’ You eye his coffee cup and wrinkle your nose in distaste at the black liquid. It looks like you’re staring into the pits of Hell. ‘What is that atrocity?’

He follows your gaze and laughs. ‘It’s coffee. Wanna try some?’ He maintains eye contact as he takes a sip and then offers it to you.

‘God, no. I have self-respect.’

He places it back down next to an intimidating set of controls, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘Also, I wanted to say thank you for the other week. For showing me around and stuff.’ He looks down shyly.

‘Oh, it’s, um, no problem. How have you been coping?’ You ask slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to do at his sudden personality flip-flop.

‘It’s a lot harder than I imagined it to be, honestly. I thought the worst that could happen would be screaming children and impatient parents.’ He admits.

You nod. ‘I thought the same when I first started last year. Little did I know the Karens were the least of my problems.’

He laughs breathily. ‘Tell me about it. I don’t know how you’ve managed to last so long.’

You shrug, embarrassed. ‘I just like making the kids’ day I guess.’

He coos and you push him lightly, smiling. ‘Why don’t we play a game?’ He asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You narrow your own eyes. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Hmm,’ He pretends to think, tapping his chin. ‘How about twenty-one questions?’

‘Okay,’ You say slowly. ‘What are our rules going to be?’

He smirks. ‘You only get one get-out-of-jail card. And if you use it, you have to do what the other person says.’

You sigh. ‘Fine. Then, follow-up questions to your answers don’t count.’

‘Deal. I’ll go first,’ At your mildly worried look, he says, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. What are you studying in uni?’

‘Business and management.’ You say instantly, and he looks intrigued. ‘It was either that or English lit, and my parents weren’t too keen on me studying that.’

He frowns. ‘Why not?’

You avoid eye contact as you answer. ‘They’re both doctors,’ You clear your throat. ‘Are you in uni?’ You love your parents with all your heart but sometimes you wish they would just be happy with you being happy.

He takes the hint and moves on. ‘Yeah, I’m actually doing photography.’ He says, scratching the back of his neck.

Your head perks up. ‘Really? That’s so cool. My roommate is studying photography, too. Is that what you want to do after you graduate?’

His face relaxes. ‘I’m not really sure, to be honest. I just know it’s something I’m passionate about, you know?’ At your nod of encouragement, he continues, ‘There’s just something so amazing about capturing a moment forever in a way that really brings out its true beauty.’

You give him a small smile. ‘That sounds really special.’

He shrugs, though you can tell he appreciates it. ‘Anyway, it’s your turn to answer. Do you have a boyfriend?’

If you were drinking something, you’re sure you would have choked. ‘I-no?’

He looks slightly put out. ‘Is it complicated?’

You shake your head, maybe a little too hard. ‘No, sorry, you just caught me off guard. No, I don’t have a boyfriend.’ He looks instantly brighter. ‘Why, are you asking me out?’ You tease.

He blushes. ‘I mean, uh, I, um-’

‘Oh my God,’ You laugh, though you feel disappointed. ‘It’s okay, I was only joking. Ouch.’ You’re almost glad you didn’t get a chance to ask him out and make things awkward between the two of you. Maybe not seeing him for two weeks was a sign from the universe not to fuck up.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, oh God, I’m sorry.’ He groans and buries his face in his hands.

You tap him playfully on the shoulder. ‘It’s fine,’ You can’t help but feel hurt. Why did he ask you if he doesn’t care whether you have one or not? Maybe you’re just reading too much into it. ‘My turn, anyway. What’s traumatized you the most since working here?’

‘Learning that when cast members say ‘have a Disney day’ they really mean ‘fuck you’.’

You throw your head back and laugh. ‘That’s my favorite. Although as far as things go, that’s pretty vanilla.’

‘Maybe I’m a vanilla guy.’ He teases, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to an image of him hovering over you, reaching up to intertwine your hands together as he moans sweetly in your ear and you feel your face heat up.

‘So you’re admitting you’re boring.’ You joke halfheartedly, almost off-beat.

He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt. ‘That was uncalled for. Alright then, little miss kinky, where’s the most daring place you’ve had sex?’

Your eyes widen comically. ‘I-’ You glance at the monitors and see two figures in the back row of the mostly deserted ride, one hunched over with their head in the lap of what you make out to be a guy judging by the other figure’s movements. ‘Oh my God, no!’ You cry and fumble for the microphone.

‘What? What is it?’ Jaemin asks, his eyes searching. You can tell the moment he sees what you’re seeing, because he instantly cracks up laughing.

‘It’s not funny,’ You whine, pressing the red button on the microphone and saying as firmly as you can as monotonous as you can, ‘This is a family-friendly ride. Please refrain from scarring’ - you hiss and the figure has the decency to bolt upright and you see that they’re a girl - ‘the camera operators and fellow riders. Thank you.’ The others on the ride look around in confusion, and you can see the girl turn to say something to the boy. Judging by the way she gestures, it’s safe to assume it’s something biting.

‘I thought you said this happens all the time.’ Jaemin says once he’s calmed down enough to make the words out.

‘It does,’ You keep your eye on the couple, the guy wearing a smug grin as he zips up his trousers and the girl looking meek and embarrassed. Good. Public indecency is no joke. ‘But that doesn’t make it any less gross. This is a kids’ park for goodness sake.’

‘But there aren’t any kids around.’

You give him an exasperated look. ‘Well, I would never be okay with doing it on a ride in public.’

He licks his lips and you follow the movement only slightly too closely. ‘So when I asked where the most risky place you’ve had sex is…’ He trails off, smirking.

‘You can cross a literal children’s park from the list of possibilities, and proudly so.’ You say stubbornly. ‘Please don’t tell me you have.’ You rush to say upon seeing his face.

‘I haven’t.’ He says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair, spreading his legs. You wish they didn’t look so inviting. You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

‘But?’ You probe.

‘But nothing,’ He says simply. ‘So, are you gonna answer my question or are you gonna forfeit?’

You scowl at him. ‘What do you want if I do?’ You can feel your pulse racing in both excitement and fear but you keep your face blank.

His eyes shine as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. ‘I don’t know yet.’

You swallow at his suggestive tone. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you,’ You concede, and he seems to not know whether to be pleased or disappointed. ‘My ex was a bit of an exhibitionist. He, um, you know, touched me when we went to see a movie.’

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, but you miss the glint in his gaze. ‘I thought you weren’t down for doing it in kids’ places.’

‘We were watching Paranormal Activity.’ You say flatly.

‘And?’

‘And it’s rated eighteen plus!’ You defend.

‘Is that the furthest you’ve gone in public? No compromising positions? No p in the-’

You cut him off hurriedly before he can go any further. ‘I’ve just never done it anywhere risky,’ You sigh dramatically. ‘I think I’m vanilla, too.’

He laughs loudly. ‘You don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing. Anyway, I never said I was vanilla.’

You frown. ‘Earlier, you did.’

‘Did I? Maybe I was just saying it to tease you.’ He smiles a wide, boyish smile, completely contradicting what he’s implying with his words.

‘Oh?’ You say breathlessly. ‘Well, okay then.’

‘Don’t believe me?’

‘I-what? I never said-’

‘Would you rather I show you?’ He offers and your breath hitches as you meet his intense eyes. The warm brown seems darker and he glances at your chest as you breathe deeply. You can’t believe he said that. In the short time you’ve known him, you’re taken aback at how quickly he can switch between shyness and confidence.

When you merely stare back at him, not knowing what to say, he stands up and closes the short distance between the two of you so that his knee grazes your own as he stands above you. ‘____,’ He says, a slight rasp in his voice. ‘I need you to say it if you want this.’

You swallow and whisper, ‘Yes.’

He cups your face with his hand, his thumb softly stroking your cheek as he brings his lips down upon yours. You lift your own hand to hold his wrist which is currently beside your face and use the other one to grip onto the arm of the chair to ground yourself in the moment.

You let loose a small whimper as he glides his tongue across your bottom lip, and you part your lips to allow it in. He grips you tighter before he pulls away from your mouth to trail wet kisses across your jaw. ‘Guess you ended up tasting my coffee, anyway, hm?’ He whispers lowly into your ear before pecking it and you shudder, with both pleasure and laughter.

‘I guess so.’ You look into his eyes and see the pure hunger that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Jaemin notices and pulls you up gently, pushing your hips into the desk with the monitors above it. Taking the hint, you spread your legs to give him room to stand between them, and he praises a quick, ‘Atta girl’, before leaning back down to reconnect your lips. You now take note of the slight hint of coffee on his tongue this time but you don’t care as you impatiently and desperately kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. His hand ghosts up your thigh, making you shiver in his arms. He slowly moves to unbutton your bottoms, giving you time to stop him.

In response, however, you whine at what feels like his teasing and unbutton and unzip them yourself, causing him to chuckle as he pulls away. ‘Are you impatient, baby?’ You swoon internally at the pet name and nod, biting your lip.

‘Please,’ You manage. ‘Want you to touch me.’

He moans and slides his fingers into your underwear, not wanting to tease you over them after you asked so nicely. He grins as his fingers slide in your arousal and says, ‘You’re so wet already. Do you want me to make you come all over my fingers?’

‘Fuck, yes.’ You breathe.

His eyes drink in your rapidly rising chest and the utter desire written all over your face as he gently slides a finger inside you. ‘So tight and wet. How are you gonna take my cock if you’re this tight, hm?’ You whine and he eases a second finger in and starts thrusting at a pace that makes you arch your back. 

Your hand flies to his bicep, feeling the way it flexes under your fingertips as he scissors his fingers inside of you. His thumb finds your clit and rubs hard circles into it, the pressure being just enough to make your toes curl. You lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder, pressing a swift kiss to the juncture between it and his neck. You marvel at the way goosebumps rise upon your touch and the way your breaths feel huffing against his rapidly heating skin. You can smell the faint scent of earthiness and wood from his cologne, which you take a deep breath of and breathe in his aroma as your hand winds itself in his hair and tugs when a particular deep surge of his fingers hits a spot that makes your brain go fuzzy.

‘Jaemin.’ You moan and he all but growls.    

‘That’s it, baby, say my name. Are you close? Wanna see your face when I make you cum.’ His words weigh down your lower stomach like a ton of bricks, furthering you along in your chase to find your release. He nudges your clit deliciously, teasing you by rubbing around it every now and then, pulling you away only to bring you back with ten times the sensitivity and it’s enough to push you closer to the edge faster than when you touch yourself.

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening as you nod to answer his question and unbutton your top enough to fit your hand into your bra, your fingers finding your nipple and rolling it between them. You lift your face from his shoulder and stare into the seemingly pitless black of his eyes as they’re stuck to your face and the changes in your expression as he brings you to the edge. ‘Yes, don’t stop, please.’ You manage. His features are hard to make out in the dim lighting, but you notice the way his eyes zero in on your hand stuffed into your bra and it’s when he picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you harder that you finally let go. Your eyes roll back and your grip on his arm tightens as you moan his name like a mantra.

He takes his fingers out after riding you through your high and makes eye contact as he sucks his fingers clean. ‘Mm, sweet.’ He teases.

You hide behind your hands in embarrassment and he laughs as he pries them away from your face. ‘You gonna let me bend you over this desk, now?’ He grins.

You nod meekly, your legs trembling as you stand up to your full height. Jaemin unbuttons your blouse as you return the gesture on him, pushing his shirt open to run your fingers down the ridges in his stomach. You teasingly flick your thumbs over his nipples and he gasps, to which you smirk and repeat the motion, causing him to moan and you bite your lip at the sound. ‘Sensitive, are you?’

He slaps your ass playfully in response, pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You reach behind you and unclip your bra as you step out of the pool of clothing at your feet, pulling it down your arms slowly. He opens his mouth to make a remark, but decides against it as your breasts come into view. He sucks in a breath and reaches up, tugging your left nipple that’s standing to attention. ‘You’re perfect.’ He says, taking in your figure.

You smile, hearing the sincerity in his voice. ‘I want to see you, too.’ You pout, pulling on his belt loops so that he’s even closer and then reaching down to undo them.

He helps you by unbuckling his belt and letting his trousers drop to the floor. You reach into his underwear and run your fingers down his length before wrapping your hand around it and moving it up and down. He throws his head back and you kiss down his neck, tasting the bittersweet salt of his sweat and the natural flavour of his skin. You pull him out of his underwear and begin to pick up the pace but all too soon he puts his hand over yours, halting you.

‘I want to come inside you.’ He phrases it like a question and you nod, turning around and bending over the desk. His hands smooth over the flesh of your ass as he says, ‘You look so good like this.’ Jaemin runs his length between your lips to lube himself and then situates himself so that he’s pressing against your entrance. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes. Please, Jaemin.’ You push your hips back so he gets the hint.

‘That never gets old,’ He pushes himself in steadily and you gasp at the stretch and how satisfying it feels. ‘Been wanting to hear you moan my name since the first day.’

You moan as he thrusts into you, hard and fast. His pace is almost bruising, the way he grips your hips assures you that you’ll feel a smattering of fingertip-shaped soreness tomorrow when you run your fingers over the area. ‘Me too.’ You say in between breaths. He reaches up to roll your bud between his fingers and you whine; your hand travels between your legs to rub your clit. It jumps a little from sensitivity but you keep at it until you just feel pure, white-hot pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ He shouts as you clench around him once he hits a spot that has you grasping his wrist. ‘You feel so fucking good,’ He praises, kissing up your back until he’s whispering in your ear, ‘So. Fucking. Good.’ In between thrusts. You shudder and turn your head, capturing his lips in yours. The kiss is messy but neither of you can bring yourselves to care, too lost in the feeling and taste of each other to pay it any mind. The sound of your hips connecting fills the small room, echoing as it bounces off the walls until your head is filled with his moans and his skin on yours and just Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

You feel yourself hovering over the edge almost embarrassingly quick and you cry out, ‘I’m so close.’

‘Yeah? Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?’ He says huskily and you bite your lip and nod. You never would’ve guessed the timid boy you met on the first day who looked so innocent as the new guy had such a dirty mouth. It makes you shiver all over, loving the way his words caress your skin and make your nipples stand to an impossible hardness.

‘Yeah. Wanna be good for you.’

He groans. ‘You are, baby, you’re so good for me.’ At his words, you feel yourself come undone and your legs shake from the effort of holding you up. Jaemin whines as you clench around him sporadically, your breaths coming out in ragged puffs. You swear the sound pushes you harder for longer, wanting to do everything you can to hear him make such a pretty noise again.

‘Wait,’ You say, and he stops immediately. ‘I’m too sensitive. I can’t-’ Your voice cracks.

‘Can’t what, ____? Do you want me to stop?’ You can hear the genuine concern laced in his words.

‘No, well, yes,’ You huff and turn around, letting him slide out of you and you internally cringe at the feeling of him brushing against your sensitive walls. ‘Come here.’ You reach for his hands and pull him back over to you, closing the distance he put between you after you turned around. He looks confused as you smile lazily and kiss him sloppily, your hand moving between his legs to grab him at the base and squeezing him.

He moans and breaks off the kiss. ‘____, if you want to stop-’ You shush him as you drop to your knees and his eyes light up as you lean in to kiss the tip of him lovingly.

You trail your tongue from base to tip and take him in your mouth, suckling the head.

He curses. ‘Please don’t tease, I’m so close already.’

You relent, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sinking down to fit as much of him as you can. What doesn’t fit, you stroke with your hand. You can just about fit your hand around his girth and you can taste yourself on him, something you never thought you’d like but in that moment nothing could be hotter. He fists his hands in your hair, tugging slightly to make you look up at him. When you do, you moan around him at the sight - teeth tugging on his lower lip as he lets out moans here and there when you pay extra attention to the tip and his head thrown back, baring the honey-colored skin of his neck to your hungry eyes. He finally looks down at you and you’re close enough to hear his breath hitch as he watches you take him in and out of your mouth in a trance. You twist and tug him in a way that has his thigh twitching next to your head and so you place your hands on them and take him into your throat.

It’s when you simultaneously fondle his balls that he lets out a quiet ‘fuck’, followed by an ‘I’m coming’ and thrusts shallowly, causing tears to spring in your eyes. He releases into your mouth and you swallow it down and clean him off, earning that whimper that makes your clit throb.

Jaemin pulls you to your feet and into a kiss that you both commit to; one that’s passionate and slow as you calm both of your racing hearts and come down from the high of intimacy. You know he can taste himself on you, but he doesn’t hesitate to give his all. When he breaks away, he leans his forehead against yours, leaving wet kisses all over your face and you giggle. He runs his hands up your arms and says, ‘So, can I take you on a date now?’

You look into his eyes and nod, feeling suddenly shy at his vulnerable stare. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘So,’ He says casually, pulling you in closer by wrapping his arms around your shoulders. ‘Is this officially the weirdest place you’ve had sex?’

You gasp and slap his chest lightly but he just cackles in return, pulling you back into him.