#and starts intercepting the deliveries

[softquietsteadylove]

Thenamesh Ballerina/Boxer AU with Gil protecting Thena.

I love protective Gil so it would be really cool :)

"You sure you wanna do this?" Gil couldn't help but ask as they walked into the loud, crowded pub.

"Oh, come on," Thena smiled at him, pulling his hand to go find where Sersi and Ikaris were waiting for them. "I'm not so opposed to rambunctiousness. I do teach teenagers, if you recall."

"Oh, I recall," he chuckled. The teenagers were the class who loved to 'ooh' and 'aw' when Miss Thena's boyfriend came in to bring her coffee.

"Besides," Thena sighed, half for fun and half in genuine exasperation. "Sersi is quite taken with your old buddy, Ikaris."

"I don't know if I'd use the term 'buddy'."

"I want her to know that we can all spend time together."

Gil grinned, pulling Thena back to him by the hand and securing her there by wrapping his arm around her waist. He pressed his lips to her temple, "you're a good friend, Gorgeous."

Thena lavished in the small affection, even in the middle of the horrifically loud establishment.

"I do owe him a beer anyway," Gil added a little more sheepishly, "after last time."

"Last time?" Thena blinked.

"Well, the time before that," Gil shrugged, referring to a misunderstanding between them that had led to Gil pulverising Ikaris way too intensely for a practice match.

Thena blushed as Gil nipped at the shell of her ear.

"How could I forget last time?"

Thena squirmed in his embrace, pushing on his chest, "we're already late."

"Where the hell are these two?" Gil muttered, looking around the room. Even with its darkened corners, he assumed he would have seen them by now. "You see 'em?"

"No, I--hey!"

"Whoops, sorry 'bout--hello there," the offending stranger shifted from frustrated to smiling at Thena in the blink of an eye. He took her in, visibly, running his eyes over her and tipping up his hat. "Sorry, little lady, didn't mean to jostle you like that."

"It's fine."

"Let me get'cha a drink-"

"She said it's fine, man," Gil grumbled, pulling Thena closer to him again as the walking ball cap and blue jeans refused to stop dragging his eyes over her.

The man turned to Gil, as if noticing him for the first time. "Oh, sorry man, I didn't realise she was with you."

Thena had to wonder how he had missed her literally being held by Gil. But they were on their way again before she could ask. "Gil?"

"That's the other thing about dives like this," Gil muttered, keeping her close as he found them a standing table underneath a light. "The prettier you are, the more of an animal you'll attract."

"I'm not sure if that's so foreign a concept to me."

"Maybe not," Gil conceded, kissing her cheek gently as he parted from her reluctantly, "but the kind of animal might be. I'm gonna see if the bartender knows if they're here and where they might be."

Thena nodded, watching him go as she stayed standing at the table. She swayed absently to whatever tune was playing far too loudly through the speakers. She put her hands on the edge of the table, only to discover there was something on it. Whether it was water or something else she wiped her fingers off on her jeans--the only pair she owned, and wore specifically with this venue in mind.

Sersi got out more than she did. Sersi knew how not to stand out in a pub--a bar, rather. This was for Sersi--who deserved to be happy, even if Thena thought Ikaris was a bit of a meathead for her.

"Buy you a drink?"

Thena stared down at the table, wondering if refusing to engage them at all would be a better route.

"Buy you a drink?!!"

No, they just thought she couldn't hear them. She sighed, turning with a frown, "my boyfriend is at the bar now."

"Then he's not here."

"That wasn't an invitation," she scowled, as the man - and more than one behind him - shifted from their table to hers. She eyed them cautiously, "I'm not here alone."

"Really?--'cause," the front one ran his eyes over her, just like the one from the crowd, "you seem pretty lonesome."

Alone and lonesome did not mean the same thing.

"We can just keep you company," another one suggested, "'till your, uh, boyfriend?--comes back."

"I don't think you want to do that," Thena advised, not that the interloping animals deserved the courtesy of a warning. "He won't like arriving to a scene like this."

"What? We're just talking."

Thena shuffled back from the table, desperate for every centimetre of distance from them she could get. "A discussion to which I never agreed."

"Now what's a flower like you doin' in a place like this?"

"Yeah, you're far too sweet to be roamin' around alone."

"I bet your boyfriend's just some dickhead, anyway."

Thena glared at him.

"Dude, you made her mad," the others slapped his shoulder, laughing between themselves, although clearly her anger was the cause for their amusement. "She's cute when she's angry, though."

"Then you're gonna think I'm adorable."

Thena looked over their shoulders, although the one closest to the back was already getting flipped over Gil's shoulder. His shoes hit the ceiling light dangling above them with a loud clang. "I did tell you."

The one who called Gil a 'dickhead' was next. He tried to make his escape but Gil grabbed him by the wrist, giving it it a good twist until everyone around them could hear the pop! of it.

"Hey, man, we were just-"

"Harassing my girlfriend," Gil finished for the other two, cracking his knuckles loudly and giving his hands a shake, like he did when he was getting ready for the last round of a fight. "Yeah, I heard."

Everyone but Thena winced as Gil landed a punch to each of their faces that looked quite lethal in force. And certainly they went down like a sack of bricks, completely unconscious after a hit like that.

"What the hell's going on, here?!"

"Sorry, sorry," Gil apologised, holding up his hands as the bar staff came rushing over. "I'm going, I'm going."

Thena shuffled around the men on the ground, hopping over one of the bodies to trot out beside Gil. "Are you okay?"

Gil just shrugged, shaking out his fist again. Sure, he was used to gloves, but his knuckles had been conditioned long before now. "I'll be fine. Are you okay?"

Thena offered a shrug of her own as they headed back out into the night. "I've certainly heard worse."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he offered sheepishly, taking her hand in his. "I didn't mean to leave you alone to them, or to get us kicked out like that."

Thena just shook her head, stepping in closer to kiss him again. "I'd hardly consider that your fault."

Gil returned the kiss gleefully. "And for the record, you are cute when you're mad, but only I get to say it."

"Gil," she scolded, slipping her hand under his sports coat to give his side a pinch.

"What?" he laughed, leaving his heavy arm around her delicate little shoulders. "It's super cute when your little goslings tease you for having a boyfriend and you get all flustered."

"Gil!"

"Oi," Ikaris blinked as he arrived with his own arm slung over Sersi's shoulders, "what're you doin' out here?"

"What are we doing?" Gil snorted at his old friend, "you're late even by your standard."

"Yeah, well," Ikaris shrugged. That was the end of his excuse, it seemed. He took another step, "shall we?"

"Uh, we can't go in there," Gil caught Ikaris by the shoulder and turned him around.

"Huh?"

Thena took Sersi's elbow and turned her as well, allowing them to link arms with the men on their outside shoulders. "Gil caved in a gentleman's nose, in there."

"Oh my," Sersi underreacted, perfectly able to imagine him doing so, apparently. "Well, there are other places to get a pint."

"Places that aren't crawling with assholes," Gil muttered, slipping off his jacket and putting it over Thena's shoulders.

Ikaris rushed to do the same for his own girlfriend.

[emile-hides]

Someone make a Salmonid OC who's a hacker I think that'd be incredibly fitting (just got communication error 3 high egg games in a row) (Almost exclusively using H3 Nozzelnose, Bamboozler, Squiffer, and E liter these past few games)

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

A terrorist in the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad) has admitted in his interrogation that they practiced for the Oct 7 massacre on Iranian soil. This is important to remember, that it wasn't just Hamas that committed the vicious attack on Israelis during that day, that the Islamist regime in Iran's involvement was crucial to what happened, and that Gaza was NEVER "an open air prison" as the anti-Israel crowd claimed. The above link has the vid quoted here.

Yesterday, Golani infantry's division 36 has left a section in northern Gaza, as a part of lowering the intensity of the fighting there. A short while later, no less than 50 rockets were fired from exactly that area into southern Israel. Yoram Bitan's shop in the southern town of Netivot took a direct hit from a rocket while he and his son were still inside (pic is from this vid, where the start also shows the barrages of rockets over Netivot). They're both thankfully okay, the building absorbed most of the impact.

Just this morning, at least 25 more rockets were fired from that area of Gaza into Israel, before IDF soldiers managed to find and destroy some of the rocket launchers that were used in these attacks (see pic with just one barrage of intercepted rockets over Israel on the horizon, Hebrew source). If Israel can't lower the intensity of the fighting, that's absolutely also because of Hamas' continued choices. Israeli civilians from the south are currently protesting against the possibility that Israel will stop the war before the complete removal of the threat of rockets being fired from Gaza.

The IDF has confirmed yesterday that it has eliminated more than 150 Hezbollah squads since the start of the war.

I got to watch an interview with Shirley (not necessarily her real name), who was a prison guard where Palestinian terrorists were held. She was sexually harassed by a terrorist called Muhammad Atallah for 2 years. Towards the end of her service at this prison, he told her that her life is being threatened by Amjad Awad, a Palestinian terrorist, who murdered the Fogel family when he was 18 years old, together with his relative, 17 years old Hakim Awad. These are 35 years old Ruti, 36 years old Udi, 11 years old Yoav, 4 years old Elad and 3 months (!) old Hadas in Mar 2011. Amjad and Hakim were actually on their way out of the house, when they heard baby Hadas crying in her crib, returned and murdered her (Hebrew source).

You can hopefully understand why Shirley was terrified when she heard Awad wanted to kill her, and Atallah claimed he could keep her safe, using this to try and rape her in a spot between two gates in the prison where there are no cameras. She fought back and saved herself. Atallah, who is imprisoned for attempted murder and murder as part of his terrorist activity, was put on trial back in 2022 for sexual harassment of Shirley and attempted rape, as well as for raping another female prison guard.

But in the interview I listened to yesterday, Shirley talked about how horrified she is over the possibility that Awad and Atallah might be freed in a hostage deal, where Hamas will demand terrorists with "blood on their hands" be released.

Last night, the IDF presented the findings of an investigation into the cause of death of 3 hostages, whose bodies were retrieved from Gaza. The autopsy determined that they were NOT killed by direct IDF or terrorists fire, but the bodies are in such a state, that it's impossible to determine what did kill them.

These are Michal and her husband Alex Lubnov.

Alex worked as a bartender at the Nova music festival on Oct 7. He was kidnapped to Gaza. Michal is seven months pregnant. This week, she visited the site from which Alex was kidnapped for the first time. She's waiting for her husband to be freed, and be with her at the delivery room.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[satan-plundered-our-oceans]

Jinx x f!reader and their first kiss, date, time, fight, all that couple stuff short little pieces of girlies being cute

★。／ get jinxed ＼。★

pairing: jinx x f!reader

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,612

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and some suggestive/NSFW content! MDNI!

notes: this is a fic i am really excited for! Thank you again for the request anon! It was really fun to write, and i got through it pretty quickly to be perfectly honest because of that haha. Not proofread because im tired, and i have no shame :D enjoy!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

➼ first date with jinx 

You worked under Silco delivering shimmer across Zaun. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t have been doing this, it could get you arrested without question and you’d find yourself in Stillwater. But it paid well, and working so closely with the Eye of Zaun meant you didn’t have to worry as much about danger in Zaun. People saw you as a god-send, you gave them their weekly hit, if anything, the danger made them respect you. 

It was during this time that you met Jinx, while picking up your next delivery of shimmer from Silco’s warehouse. She had been there to speak with him privately about some arson issue that happened in Piltover. You had heard briefly about a lanky, blue-haired girl that would build bombs in the open space beneath the warehouse, but it was rare that anyone had ever seen her. But you managed. Somehow.

She intercepts you on your trade route, setting bombs off in the street just across from one of your clients. Jinx claims to recognise you from skulking around the warehouse. And at some point her chaotic energy and her strange inability to sit still seems to lull you into some sense of security. She’s just the perfect idea of unpredictability that you needed in your otherwise boring Zaunite lifestyle. (Though you were very lucky, all things considered.)

Your first date is a simple diner one. At first, you didn’t even know it was a date, just that she wanted to do something fun with you. She takes you in to meet her favourite bartender Chuck, who seems to almost slink beneath the counter when she drags you in. I feel like Jinx would give you a little monkey bomb as a gift for your first date - though it isn’t set, it’s pretty harmless. Other than that she bombards you with strange bursts of Jinx-aligned humour, and rambles at length about her various inventions, promising to take you down to her workshop to show you everything, while tightly gripping your fingers with chipped blue nails. 

And something in those bright, blue eyes makes you think that maybe this unpredictability could be quite fun. 

***

‘Don’t ya get bored frownin’ like that?’ jinx drums her nails on her glass, the clinking echoing throughout the empty bar. It was quite odd, you reckon, for it to be this quiet, but maybe its just jinx. 

In her own way of trying to get a smile out of you she starts spouting some random jokes. Tries telling her own funny stories. They all mostly revolve around bombs or explosive presentations she’s organised at piltover events. Mainly the absurdity of it all gets a laugh out of you, or you just smile at the giddy, child-like happiness you see in her eyes. Something that seems so pure (ignoring the fact that she’s probably an arsonist and on several watchlists)

‘There ya go!’ she cheers, grabbing onto your hands and interlacing your fingers. You think maybe you should paint your nails too to match her, see if it makes her happy. ‘You look so much prettier with a smile, trinket’

➼ first kiss with jinx 

It was after your third or fourth date that you ended up spending your free time in the warehouse. Jinx begins showing you all the new inventions she’s making, and all her designs for cartoony monkey bombs, you even help her draw out a few, including a cutesy little cat one that she isn’t as fond of, but she still makes one for you. 

Most of your relationship consists of Jinx making you little trinkets, like keychains, safe bombs, little bracelets and rings, and strange, misshapen sculptures made of leftover metal pieces. 

She loves you, in a very Jinx-way. She’s touchy but never very pushy. Long hugs, cuddles on a couch that she has balancing on a metal propellor in her warehouse, letting you braid her hair when she’s tired (please brush her hair, she will melt, and she needs some softness), holding hands in Zaun or dragging you to her private meetings with Silco. Whether you like it or not, you have the Eye of Zaun as an adopted father figure now. He isn’t quite sure what to think about it either. 

It is one of those cuddle sessions, after she is plagued by the voices that taunt her, that you end up just holding her face into your neck and sitting with her. These are the most important to her, like she can feel safe for once. 

***

‘Thank ya toots,’ she curls around you, straddling your lap and looking down on you with an innocent pout on her face. You don’t have to ask what she’s thanking you for, this has become a pretty regular occurrence. 

In her moment of calmed silence, you untie one of her braids and begin to brush through her long, blue locks with your fingers. She immediately melts into your hands, leaning forward to lean into your chest, gazing up at you. 

‘I feel like ya deserve somethin,’ she says absently, tapping her chin with one nail. Then a mischievous smile crosses her lips. ‘C’mere!’

She eagerly grabs your cheeks, barely giving you a second to register what’s happening before she smushes your faces together. Her lips are chapped, but her kiss is so enthusiastic that you have to take a moment before returning it. Your hand grips her hair in between tight fingers. 

The rest of your cuddle sesh is spent with soft, hurried kisses.

➼ first fight with jinx 

You don’t often fight with Jinx, you don’t like to yell at her or be upset, and watch her usually gleeful expression drop into that of a kicked puppy. But you were worried about her this time. 

She had gone up to piltover against Silco’s wishes again, most likely to stir up trouble, so he decided to send you after her to drag her back to Zaun. When you had gotten there however, you found only the debris of her explosions, the spraypaint she loved, clouds of coloured smoke, and guards everywhere. 

And no Jinx.

No sign of her or where she could be, you had no choice but to return to Zaun before you got dragged into the oncoming investigation, empty-handed. You spend the rest of the day worrying over where she might be in her workshop, sitting with your head in your hands on the couch. Is she hurt? Captured? She could be dead for all you know.

So when she shows up again, seemingly ignorant to how long she has been gone or the stress she has caused, you can’t help but raise your voice, crying about how you had expected the worst. You scream back and forth for a bit before she leaves you to burn off her energy.

***

‘Hey trinket,’ the door to her warehouse screeches open, and she stands in the entrance, looking at you as you sit on the couch, barely even looking at her. ‘Ya still mad at me?’

She sighs when she doesn’t get a response, coming close to wipe at the dried tear-stains on your cheeks, setting down her tools and her guns to favour your face between her hands. Jinx makes sure you can see only her.

‘I’m sorry i vanished, i didnt mean to scare ya, honest.’ she pulls you down to lean into her shoulder, still stroking your cheeks with her fingers. ‘Can ya forgive me, trinket? I’ll make it up to ya, i promise.’

Jinx cuddles with you on the couch for the rest of the day, showering you in kisses at your request. Safe to say, you can’t stay mad at her for very long at all.

|| ! mdni content below ! ||

➼ first time with jinx 

Jinx has always loved touching you, whether it’s a hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, or a hug from behind. She just loves to be close to you. But when you begin talking about the idea of sex with her she immediately jumps on the idea (and probably jumps on you as soon as you bring it up, you only barely manage to drag her somewhere private)

She’s an enthusiastic lover in all things, of course. Fucking you isn’t going to be any different. But she’s gentle the first time, despite it all, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, i don’t think Silco really prepared her for intimate relationships. 

But still, having sex with Jinx is amusing, its not serious, always cracking little jokes or tickling each other and finding little ways to be comfortable with the process. You can’t really find it in you to be nervous. 

She’d start slowly with you though, if you wanted, just to make you comfortable <3 

***

‘God trinket, ya look s’ pretty like this for me,’ she’s already slightly breathless, skirting her hands and dragging her chipped nails over your ribs. She lays you down on the couch in her warehouse, sitting between your thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Ya feel alright?’ she checks in occasionally, just to be sure. 

But she lets her hands wander at the same time, she can tell you aren’t going to say no just by the look in your eyes, urging her to continue. She lets her hands travel over your stomach and down in between your thighs, but she doesn’t hurry where you need her. No, she prefers to tease you. Just a little bit to get you squirming. 

When she does finally reach your core, dipping her fingers in between your folds, does she finally let up and give you what you want.

[here2bbtstrash]

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie steals the Hope Diamond; spicy six heist au

"I thought the centerpiece of this museum was a t-rex skeleton. What’s an elephant doing here?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s Night at the Museum, man. You’re thinking of the movie”, Jonathan said from next to him.

“Kinda disappointed to be honest. I go right you go left?”

Jonathan went to the left of the entrance while Eddie went right. Nancy was speaking to them both through earpieces. Getting a map of the museum was a fine way to get a general layout. But nothing beat getting actual feet on the ground.

Eddie moved around, letting the traffic of the museum move him. He knew he was moving in a non-linear fashion, but it was hard not to double back when he saw an interesting diorama or model.

“Eddie, don’t get distracted”, Nancy warned.

“Who me? Perish the thought”, he said, fully intending to do recon in the fossil exhibit, only to pass by the hall of gems and minerals. He let out a low whistle.

“I know who you would be perfect for”, he murmured to himself. But Nancy could hear him loud and clear through the earpiece.

“Eddie…we are not stealing the Hope Diamond.”

Eddie liked jewelry. And he liked Steve. Scratch that, he loved Steve. And he loved putting him in pretty things. That diamond necklace was a very pretty thing.

“It can be our little secret Nancy. I wanna surprise Steve with something nice.”

“Then buy him a legit diamond with your cut. We have a client that we need to keep happy.”

“I can multitask.” There was quite the crowd around the diamond, watching as it rotated in its case. Obviously he knew it wouldn’t be easy to lift it, even with their team. But they were already going to be in the museum to steal something from the Ancient Egypt exhibit. Why not get something else on the way out?

He and Jonathan finished cruising the museum and returned to the apartment space they were currently using to plan this job.

As expected, Nancy had a map of the whole place, all floors included spread out on a large table in the living room.

“We start at 1200 hours”, Nancy said. “By the end of this, we should have some T-rex teeth and have enough to pad our accounts for quite some time. Eddie, did you get a good look at the teeth.”

“I did. Between me and Bucks, we should have some decent replicas in time.”

Nancy nodded. “Don’t forget to reference Jonathan’s pics too. We need them to be flawless.”

“Alright, so everybody know their parts?”, Robin asked.

“I’m one part of the distraction with a pizza delivery”, Argyle said. “Once the guy’s out there, I keep him occupied for as long as I can.”

“Jonathan and I will handle the security cameras. We go in, knock ‘em out, and make sure it switches to our pre-made loop”, Steve said while twirling a pen in his hand.

“Steve keeps guard by the door and I keep an eye on the cameras. If we need any interception, he’ll run point”, Jonathan added.

“Once everything’s set, Big Wheel and I will do the switcheroo”, Eddie illustrated by juggling some of the stones he’d bought at the gift shop. None of with were as eye-catching as the diamond.

“Once we bag the teeth, we meet up with Robin in the van and then we’re out”, Nancy said.

Argyle raised his hand up for a high five which Jonathan answered. “And another one in the books.”

Steve pulled Eddie away from the others into the kitchen and gently pressed him against the fridge. Eddie initiated a kiss, ready for some lovin’. Going over a plan always got Steve hot for some reason. Not that he was complaining.

But then Steve pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Nancy said you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

Ah, this was an interrogation.

“Is it stupid to act on my desires and do what I please?”

“Is this like the art museum where you just had to touch that Pollock painting?”, Steve asked.

Eddie avoided his eyes. “Something like that.” If Steve kept at it, he would end up telling him everything. And he wanted it to be a surprise. He just knew the look on his love’s face when he presented the necklace would be worth more than all the gems in the world.

He cradled Steve’s face and kissed him and then kissed him again. “Just trust me, baby.”

He’d never do anything to put Steve in danger. And he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think he could swing it.

As Nancy had planned, the op began at midnight. The pizza gambit, which Nancy had only been 40% sure would work, actually did. When Steve and Jonathan successfully made it to the surveillance room and took over, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she only had to worry about the wild card in the group. Eddie pretty much always deferred to her leadership. But anything regarding Steve was like invoking impulse.

Nancy was working on removing the first tooth when she saw Eddie looking up at the cameras. He bit his lip and then turned to her.

“I gotta do it.”

“You realize it’s stupid and reckless, right?”, she said in a whisper but kept her eyes on the fossil.

“Love makes you crazy. But I don’t need to remind you. Madrid ring any bells?”

Nancy paused in her work. Madrid, right. “Just don’t get caught or it really will be like Madrid.”

Eddie was already making his way from the fossils to the gems. He turned his earpiece on.

“Robin, Jonathan, mind giving me a little help?”

“Holy shit”, Jonathan hissed, pulling Steve’s attention from the door.

“Nancy was right, you are stupid”, Robin said with a shake of her head as she watched the feed from the van.

“What is it? What’s Eddie doing?”, Steve asked, coming over to look at the monitors.

Jonathan changed the one Eddie was on just in time. “He’s uh, taking a little detour.”

“I’m going. Where is he?”

“Steve, stay focused”, Nancy said. “Eddie will be fine.”

They heard footsteps and Steve’s head whipped towards the door. Thankfully, he was already changed into a guard’s outfit. He stuck his head out and saw a guard headed their way. If he looked in the room, he’d see two unconscious dudes on the floor and two guys who didn’t belong there.

Steve came out and closed the door.

“Hey!”

“Hey”, Steve replied.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What am I-? What am I doing here? Why are you speaking to me like that? Like you don’t know me?”

“Because I don’t”, the guard said.

Steve let his shoulders sag a little and made his eyes a little bigger. “I know what he made was kind of a fling but I thought...I don’t know maybe it could be something more.” The guard looked taken aback but not indignant. Good. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Eddie listened while Steve flirted and it both made him proud and made him burn with jealousy. He’d have just the thing to show him who he belonged to later.

He knew Nancy was done when he heard two clicks. Eddie had closed the necklace up in a box prepared just for the occasion. When he rendezvoused up with Nancy, her eyes narrowed at the box.

“So you were going to do it anyway.”

“You know me, I’m like a dog with a bone.”

They got to the van and were shortly joined by Argyle.

“How was having the easiest job today?”, Robin asked.

“Easy, my ass.”

“Yeah, your ass. All you had to do was smoke with a security guard”, Eddie said.

“It was so goddamn tedious. He just went on and on about Robocop.”

Jonathan and Steve returned just about a minute after and Eddie immediately pulled Steve into his lap.

“There’s my baby.”

“And that’s officially another one in the books”, Argyle said, high fiving with Robin. “Celebration dinner?”

“I’m in the mood for French”, Robin said.

“If you guys are going out, you can drop me and Steve off at the apartment”, Eddie said while stroking his thigh.

The other groaned but Robin made her way there anyway. If going over the plan made Steve hot, a successful one with no hitches made him hornier than anything. He was already kissing at Eddie’s neck so he wasn’t sure what they were surprised by.

The others took off for dinner, leaving them alone with the fossil teeth to deliver in exchange for cash in the morning. Steve had Eddie pressed against a wall, kissing him but this time Eddie pulled away.

“I got a gift for you, gorgeous.”

“Hm?”

“But I need you to strip first.” All he needed was Steve. Anything else would get in the way of his beauty.

Steve smirked and turned away from Eddie. Just to be cheeky, he took off his shoes and socks first. Then he turned away and took off his shirt while heading to their room. He left a trail of clothes behind him, which Eddie dutifully picked up so he wouldn’t be chewed out by Nancy later.

When he got to the room, Steve was perched on the edge of the bed, one knee up to his chest.

Eddie almost forgot his actual intention and took him right there.

“Well? My gift?”, Steve reminded him.

“Right, right. The gift.” Eddie dropped the clothes and got the box. He got down on his knees and opened up the case, presenting the necklace.

“Eddie..”, Steve’s voice was breathless and he sat a little straighter. “You didn’t...”

“I did, baby. I saw it and I thought of you.”

Eddie got up and sat behind Steve to put it on him. He kissed his nape once he was done and Steve turned so he could get the full visual.

“How do I look?”

It was as Eddie had suspected. The hope diamond was a nice piece of finery on its own. But on the neck of the most handsome man in the world, it truly shined. Eddie could understand why a blue rock had been coveted for so long.

“You make it look so good”, Eddie said before leaning in for a kiss. Honestly it was like the necklace had been made for Steve specifically. As Steve laid out under him, Eddie got to observe the work of art he was. God, he deserved to be immortalized.

“If this was just a regular gift, I wonder how you’re gonna top it when you propose”, Steve teased as he lifted Eddie’s shirt over his head.

“Sweet thing for your engagement ring, I’m giving you the moon.”

Steve’s peal of laughter turned into sighs as Eddie nipped at his chest around the necklace. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would at least try a moon heist. He just wondered how much grief the others would give them for it.

[wowbright]

Fic: Brotherly Duties

Fandom/pairing: Glee, Kurt/Blaine

Event: December Klaine Fanworks Challenge 2023

Words: ~700 words                                           

Rating: Mature

Summary: Kurt gets a package from Cooper in the mail.

Notes: This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Out of Eden, which I am still in the process of posting to AO3. It’s among the likely possibilities for their future.

* * *

Two months before Blaine returned from his mission, Kurt received a package in the mail. “Special delivery from Cooper Anderson,” his dad said, handing it to Kurt in the kitchen. “Easter Peeps?”

It had become a thing with them. For Kurt’s return home from his mission, for Pioneer Day, for Labor Day and Thanksgiving and Christmas and Valentine’s Day, Cooper made it a habit to regale Kurt with Peeps. Kurt’s dad had thought it was a little odd at first, but Kurt had explained it away with, “It’s sort of a thing from our mission,” followed by, “Also, he’s weird.”

Kurt’s arms buckled from the unexpected weight as he took the package from his dad. “That feels heavier than Peeps, Dad.” The package wasn’t heavy, exactly, but it was at least a couple pounds—not the scant ounces that marshmallow and thin paperboard should weigh.

His dad shrugged. “I thought so too, but I didn’t think this Cooper guy knew how to mail anything else. I mean, I know I’ve seen him on TV, but with all these packages you’ve gotten from him, I’ve kind of started to picture him in my head like a giant PEZ dispenser—which I know doesn’t exactly work, Peeps are marshmallows and PEZ are solid, but still … You swear he wasn’t a PEZ dispenser when you met him?”

“Scout’s honor, Dad.” Kurt considered the padded envelope in his hands. Through it, the contents felt stiff and rectangular.  “It’s probably a bunch of signed headshots for me to share with friends and family. That’s his idea of a generous gift.” Kurt tore open the flap, peeked in, and immediately closed the envelope back up, feeling his cheeks betray his embarrassment. “Never mind. I'll open it later.”

His father gave him an amused look. “The head shots are that bad, huh?”

“Something like that,” Kurt said, standing up from the kitchen table and heading toward his room, where he closed the door and locked it and considered putting a chair under the handle for good measure. But no, that was silly. He was a grown adult. This was nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, his parents respected his privacy.

Instead, Kurt pulled the chair up to his desk and sat down, sliding the contents of the envelope out onto the desk. A hardcover copy of The Joy of Gay Sex made a loud thumping noise as it fell on to the surface.

There was a note, too:

Bought this for my brother—I even inscribed it to him!—but then I realized there was no good way to get it to him in Germany. Too high a chance of it being intercepted by someone in his mission, and who knows, customs would probably charge him duties on it anyway. I felt vanquished and without hope. But then I realized this was all for the better. You're the one he's all hot for, and I'm pretty sure you’re going to pounce on each other as soon as you possibly can after he gets off the plane (gets off, get it?), so you really better know what you're doing. This book actually has mixed reviews from my gay friends, but it was the one most of them mentioned when I asked for recommendations, and it’s illustrated, which I think will be very helpful. I hope you don't still have Mormon hang ups about every picture of a naked body being porn. I looked through the book, and I thought the illustrations were very educational and not too raunchy at all. Of course, if you want to jerk off to them, that's your business and nobody else’s. Have fun!

Kurt's face was on fire all the way to the roots of his hair. He put the letter in the shredder and opened the book. And indeed, there was an inscription to Blaine on the title page:

Blainey— Not being knowledgeable in this area, I hand off some of my older brother sex-talk duties to this educational volume. One tip I can give you: you'll probably want to let up on the hair gel a little during times of intimacy, particularly for certain acts in which your lover is likely to want to grab your hair. Trust me on this one. —Coop

[catcas22]

Elden Ring Coffee Headcanons

Radagon

His resting anxiety level is so high, he drinks coffee to calm down. He spent much of the Carian siblings' childhood huddled around a hot cup of coffee, gripping the mug with both hand and whispering "It's fine, it's fine..." while staring into the middle distance.

Marika

Tried coffee once. Came this close to declaring a new holy war in Kaiden. Radagon and Maliketh tried to talk her out if it, with minimal success. Thankfully, the buzz wore off before she could get a proper navy scraped together. She stuck exclusively to wine afterward. Wine mellows her out. Coffee... Does not.

Godfrey

He had already been banished from the Lands Between before coffee began to be widely grown in Caelid. The Lands are safer for it.

Rennala

Consumes coffee like a college student on exam week. She drinks a special blend of dark roast that will blow your socks off. Radahn snuck a sip once and insists that he couldn't blink for six hours. Occasionally shares her stash with Rykard, but he has to cut it with whiskey to make it drinkable.

Miquella

Miquella is a night-owl, always staying up late to work on some project or other. Unfortunately, his child physiology can't really cope with coffee. He just bounces off the walls for half an hour and then crashes. He keeps drinking it anyway, hoping his body will acclimate. Ranni keeps sending him beans from Rennala's special stash. Malenia keeps sending her threatening letters. Loretta eventually started intercepting the deliveries and switching out Rennala's blend for something a bit more mild. Of course Loretta keeps the original blend for her own personal use.

Might do some more later, but feel free to add on!

[amethystina]

If you had to put Yohan and Gaon in a parallel universe, what would it be? Bcs I've been thinking about how would they be in a zombie apocalypse scenario (it's definitely very angst)

I can think of several and my brain tends to let the ideas percolate at the back of my mind whether I want them to or not x'D So, at random, it'll present me with fully formed stories complete with a complex plot and everything that's been slowly pieced together while I wasn't looking.

Admittedly, I haven't thought of a Zombie AU, though, probably because I don't like the doom and gloom of it (she says while having written a 100k Zombie AU for another fandom where one of the main characters is a literal zombie x'D ).

ANYWAY. Here are some ideas that have been living in my brain rent-free for a while:

Soulmate AU:

While everybody believes in soulmates, not everyone is lucky enough to dream of their fated other half. Yo Han does, however. They start during his teenage years, as is customary, and he can't say he's surprised when it's Isaac's familiar face he sees. He's quite relieved, in all honesty, since he'd much rather have a platonic soulmate than a romantic one. It's less messy that way.

Fate proves him wrong the day Isaac dies in that godforsaken fire and Yo Han devotes the rest of his life to avenging his soulmate's death. That seems to be the only way to fill the void inside of him.

But then, just as Yo Han is getting ready to set his ten-year plan in motion, everything gets thrown on its head.

He meets Kim Ga On.

Suddenly, Yo Han isn't sure who he's seeing in his dreams. Is it Isaac or this young, idealistic judge — who Yo Han soon realises has been sent to spy on him? And, even if it is Kim Ga On he's dreaming about, does that truly change anything? Everything has already been set in motion and, soulmate or not, Yo Han wants revenge for what happened to his brother.

And what's to say that Kim Ga On — so brilliant and righteous — would even want Yo Han as his soulmate? His despise for Yo Han is evident so, clearly, fate must have made a mistake this time.

Someone that pure could never love a monster like him.

(Ga On dreams, too, and they're always the same. He never sees his soulmate's face, only roaring flames and a crumbling building. Ga On assumes that means his soulmate is dead. Why else would he find himself trapped inside that burning inferno every time he dreams? Surely he would have seen something else by then if the person was still alive?

Not once does it cross his mind that, maybe, his soulmate just needs to find a reason to start living again...)

___

Black Knight AU:

Joining a group of rebel refugees wasn't so much a choice for Ga On as a necessity. He hates to see the suffering around him, people dying from lack of oxygen and food, their numbers dwindling by the day.

Ga On wants a better future for all of them and he'll fight tooth and nail to get it — even if that means tearing down the old world order and demanding a new one.

Fortunately for the rebels, they have someone on the inside helping them. Ga On has never met this person — known only as the Benefactor — but it's clear that he must be from the core district. Only someone at the very top would have the kind of power and influence that the Benefactor does, providing the rebels with information and supplies through the network of deliverymen and military personnel at his disposal. Ga On doesn't know why someone at the core district would want to bring down the very system that keeps him rich, but Ga On will take whatever help he can get.

And then — as if Ga On doesn't already have enough to deal with — things get complicated the day the rebels intercept what they think is a supply delivery but turns out to be a travel convoy. And the man at its centre is clearly from the core district judging by his pristine suit and flawless appearance. Usually, that would make him a valuable hostage, but there's something different about this man.

Not only does he not seem the least bit afraid to find himself in the midst of a group of armed refugee rebels, but he also fixates on Ga On in a way that's downright unsettling. Ga On doesn't understand why.

Nor does he understand why he keeps feeling an inexplicable and wholly inappropriate pull towards the man. Ga On knows absolutely nothing about him aside from the fact that he's clearly very rich, unnervingly intelligent and, as it soon turns out, incredibly dangerous. How can Ga On be attracted to someone so ruthless and selfish?

The only core district dweller Ga On feels even the slightest bit of respect for is the Benefactor and this Kang Yo Han is the polar opposite. Ga On shouldn't feel drawn to him.

And yet, against better knowledge, he does.

And it feels more like a question of when he'll succumb, rather than if.

(This story has everything! Rebels! Eating of the rich! Delicious identity porn! Explosions! Elijah calling Ga On literal trash that Yo Han dragged in from the gutter!

... it would probably also be pretty long so let's hope I don't succumb to the urge to write it)

___

Historical Vampire AU:

After Ga On's parents die, he fully expects to end up on the streets and starve to death. Fortunately for him, a local scholar takes him on as an apprentice instead, teaching him how to read and write.

He feels incredibly indebted to Scholar Min and so, many years later, when Ga On is asked to accept a position as assistant to a rich but mysterious lord just outside the city, he of course does so. The position is a mere cover, however. In actuality, Ga On will be spying on Kang Yo Han in hopes of finding out if he's secretly supporting the uprising that's brewing in their region.

More than once, Scholar Min tells Ga On that he must be careful — that the mission is incredibly dangerous. But it's not until he actually arrives at Lord Kang's estate that Ga On understands why Scholar Min kept repeating all those dire warnings.

Not only is Kang Yo Han aloof and deeply unsettling — his gaze filled with something that could only be described as hunger whenever he looks at Ga On — but he doesn't seem to eat, rarely sleeps, and never ventures outside during the day. Only once darkness falls does he leave the estate and, sometimes, he doesn't return until just before dawn.

Before long, Ga On begins to wonder if Kang Yo Han isn't just involved in the uprising, but might also be the cause for the dead bodies that have been found strewn around the city the past couple of months.

And, somehow, Ga On has to find proof to support his theory — preferably without becoming a target himself.

(A.k.a. if you thought Ga On's neck kink in Who Holds the Devil was bad? Think again, bitches)

___

Aside from these, there are also the two parallel universe stories I have already started: Gravitational Pull which is basically meant to be a series of one-shots that divert from the original canon by changing one small detail in each installment. And then The Devil's Due which is a Different First Meeting AU where they meet when Ga On is still a teenager and that throws everything out of order (because Yo Han accidentally kickstarts Ga On's gay awakening a lot sooner than usual and, after that, all bets are off)

So yeah. I could probably think of several more but let's stop here for now xD

(And don't ask me why I chose to write these ideas as if they're fanfic summaries because they definitely aren't fanfics yet)

[electronickingdomfox]

"World Without End" review

A novel from 1979, by Joe Haldeman (author of the previous TOS novel "Planet of Judgement"). This is one of those stories where an initial minor problem keeps compounding more and more, until everyone is in the brink of death... and then there are Klingons on top. The story is pretty exciting; would have made a nice movie. The downside is that the constant action and fast pace leaves little room for character development, but the personalities are all there.

Also, though it's not exactly a comedic novel, there's a pretty funny snarky tone going around (not intentional on the side of the aliens, but very much on purpose on the side of the crew, specially McCoy). As well as the occasional touch of black humor. So I found myself chuckling more with this novel than the others so far.

Also attention for Scotty/Uhura fans. This is the first time they're seen as a romantic couple, years before The Final Frontier.

Spoilers under the cut:

The Enterprise finds a spherical ship with life aboard (AGAIN!? the two previous TOS novels also had bubble worlds). The ship is losing power, and will eventually be dead in space with no energy, so Kirk, McCoy, a linguist, and two redshirts beam inside the sphere to warn the natives. They appear in a city, populated by some bizarre, furry and winged aliens, that at first ignore them. But then, they call their police and put them in jail. The aliens, called Chatalia, insist that Kirk and co. are members of the "magician" caste, who aren't supposed to be there. And later they believe they're Klingons, who had visited the planet centuries ago, as proven by a derelict Klingon ship on the sphere's surface. No matter how they try to explain they're humans, the aliens won't believe there's anything outside their own sphere. Also, they can't beam back to the Enterprise, since a layer of super-dense metal in the sphere's structure makes the transporter to work one-way only (it's funny, because Scotty can still beam food and all sorts of junk to Kirk, so they get some kind of instant home delivery service).

Through the help of a Chatalia interpreter, the landing party learns more about the alien society. This is stratified into castes to an absurd point, so a member of a caste can't talk to the member of another, as they don't even share the same language. Apart from the Chatalias, the magicians are a different species (more similar to devils), who are tasked with the creation of more Chatalias via cloning (since the aliens are all sexless), and live in a separate island. There's some satire here about closed off, hierarchical societies, that can't see beyond their own traditions and narrow view of the world. Anyway, as the Chatalias are still convinced that Kirk and his men are magicians, they send a magician to their cell, so he can judge what to do with them himself. The magician chooses to kill them all save Kirk. This is Spock's cue to enter, as he's been listening everything from the Enterprise through an open communicator. Spock beams down to the cell and stuns all the aliens. After freeing Kirk and the others, they take the magician and the Chatalia interpreter as hostages. And everyone starts a perilous journey to Mordor the magician's island. In the way, they encounter defective, feral Chatalias in the jungle, as well as all sorts of grotesque creatures (amazingly, no redshirt dies throughout the whole novel). They also need to fly over a lake to reach the magician's island, using artificial wings, and taking advantage of the low gravity at the sphere's axis.

Meanwhile, Scotty has been left in charge of the Enterprise, and things start looking really ugly. The planetoid has trapped the ship with some invisible tendrils of super-dense metal (as it did with the old Klingon ship), and they're sucking all the energy from it. To make things worse, the Enterprise's distress message was intercepted by a Klingon ship. So the Klingons have launched a nova bomb to dispose of the dangerous sphere, as well as the trapped Enterprise, as collateral damage. Everyone save Scotty is beaming down to the planet, hoping to survive a little longer there. While Scotty is left alone in the dying ship, to divert the bomb at the last moment, if possible. Scotty and Uhura basically confess their love for each other before saying goodbye. And it's really sweet and sad. There's a pretty poignant scene then, as Scotty spends his last hours alone, drinking brandy, with all systems failing around him. Later, the Klingon captain is stupid enough to beam aboard the freezing Enterprise, so he and Scotty end up cuddling together under a blanket, drinking more brandy, and complaining about each other's smell. They part as friends.

In the end, Kirk, Spock and the others come face to face with the true engineer of the Chatalia's world: the Father Machine, responsible of cloning the aliens and supplying the world-ship with energy. It's some kind of giant, sentient artichoke. And of course, Spock can't resist the urge of melding with it. Things happen etc... And I didn't understand this part very well, but the crew can finally beam back to the ship, and power is restored to the Enterprise. Spock's conclusion is that the giant artichoke had a better sense of humor than McCoy.

Apart from the plot, there are some curious elements introduced in this novel: It seems that Vulcans don't perspire (???? Is this ever mentioned in the series? I honestly don't know). Klingons have two livers. Possibly the first introduction of this concept of Klingon's organ redundancy. There's a Disneyland park in Earth's moon, called Disneymoon. Kirk's father was some sort of amish politician who made his son work in the farm. And at some point, Kirk lets out a "yeehaw!" as the cowboy he is, while riding a six-legged rat. Also, we see some interesting aspects of Klingon religion, which is as sadistic as you'd imagine.

Spirk Meter: 0/10*. Would you look at that!? Really, given the little space for character interaction outside the plot, it's not so surprising.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[lemmetreatya]

Eren is going to let slip to his family about Timothy but neglects to mention that he's a cat and now they think you've had an actual baby.

Context: —> Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

😭😭😭

Omlll the way he’d describe him like that’s his LEGIT son shsjdj his family would be so confused too because zeke’s always saying shit to his parents like “you think im a bad son?! well im telling you, one day eren’s gonna come home with a grown child we don’t know about!!” AND NOW LOOK

“Babe! Babe, hi. Hi. Look, I forgot that I was getting a delivery today for Timothy’s shoes. Is it possible if you could just hear out for the delivery person at the front door for me?”

The Jaeger familiy’s ears popped up at the franticness of Eren’s call to you. They were already on high alert seeing as he suddenly pulled away from their somewhat peaceful dinner but this seemed even more concerning than they originally thought.

Pacing the room, Eren held a hand on his head as he seemed to be in current distress.

“You’re not home?! Shit, babe, I really needed those shoes for him. You know how he gets all cold in the night and starts crying and shit. And I know you said he’s gotta learn not to be in the bed with us but I can’t just leave him in his own bed, it’s torture!”

Immediately dropping his fork down, Zeke looked between his parents in shock.

“Oh my God, he’s got a kid.” He whispered.

Carla and Grisha looked towards Zeke with a face of worry. Even they could have deducted that from the information themselves but hearing Zeke say that out loud made them panic just a bit more.

“Yeah but—…” Eren bit his lip as he was momentarily quiet and most probably letting you speak. “No! You can’t say that! That’s our child you’re talking about! How can you expect me to just let him ‘wean it out’, he’s a baby!”

“He’s got a fucking kid!” Zeke whispered even harder. He seemed happy at the prospect of a supposed nephew but anyone could tell that it was in fact elation that his conspiracy theory was proved right.

“Zeke, Shut up!”

Grisha growled, although he seemed invested in the call just as much.

Groaning, Eren flung his hand in the air before letting it slap against his thigh.

“Fine! Fine! Okay! I’ll quickly go home now to intercept it. I’ll see you later okay? Okay. Okay. Love you, bye.”

Ending the call and turning back to his engrossingly concerned family with a sigh, Eren picked up his unfinished plate of food from the table.

“Alright, guys I’m gonna have to go and come back. I gotta go pick something up.”

“What, for your son?” Zeke snickered.

As if light had seeped into his eyes, Eren nodded proudly.

“Yeah! It’s for Timothy. He’s literally like, the quietest and best baby anyone could ask for I’m genuinely so blessed to have him as a son.”

Eren was almost about to go into a soft rant but there was a bang at the table that stopped him in his wake.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a son?!” Carla burst out, clearly the most distressed of them all.

With a blank expression, Eren had to think for two seconds before he could answer her. He hadn’t a clue what got her so worked up.

“Oh, well I’ve been meaning to tell you lot but I guess it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your mind?!” Grisha yelped in reply.

“Uh…Okay, you guys are acting weird but I’ve gotta go but I’ll be back in a bit.”

Already making his way into the kitchen, the rest of the Jaeger’s looked between each other in shock. However, Zeke only found this more amusing.

“Ah, I told you guys I was the better son.”

[scaryspears]

Havik Rant + Wasted Plotential and Theory

Warning: This is a long post, so read if you have the time.

I love Havik in the 3d era, and I guess it's because there's so little of him that sets him up for mystery, but I mainly love his face. The way half his face is ridden of flesh and his eyes glow as if he's some kind of Skeletor adjacent creature. I always look at him and go "How did it get to this point?", but in a way where I'm laughing about it, 'cause what did bro do to his face?

I hope Titan Havik will be a great break from the cartoonish evil that is Shao Kahn, Shang Tsung, Quan Chi and the others. (Don't get me wrong with Shang Tsung, I love him, but his belief system is equivalent to a power ranger villain. He's basically Valtor if he was successful. I'm not talking about MK1 Shang btw.)

I also can't picture Havik working with or for villains like Shao Kahn, Shang Tsung, and Shinnok. Havik wants to spread chaos, yes, but I don't think he views this as enslavement and feeding off misery. Another thing I'd like to note is his voice and delivery, courtesy of George C. Cole. Havik is calm, patient and almost kind. Shao Kahn actively sounds dominant, Shang Tsung is calm but cruel and impatient, with Quan Chi being condescending.

In the small glimpses that I've seen Havik through the later games (before MK1) he seems like a pretty chill guy. Now get this, Chaos is his way of life because that's the world he comes from. Chaos is basically the equivalent of freedom, so Havik wants to share that freedom. In Deceptions Konquest mode he describes water in a way you only expect from a scholar with a love and sense for nature, and I interpreted this as him believing everything should go naturally. In a Christian perspective, humans are naturally evil, and it's in our nature to be attracted to wicked things. Havik wants us to embrace who we are, and our deep desires.

In Noob Saibot's MK9 ending he meets Havik and shares an 'understanding' with him. Havik helps him with taking over the Netherealm before saying goodbye and returning to the Chaosrealm, no back stabbing or anything. Next there's Joker's ending in MK11, and we all know how Joker is. But there's also Mileena (before NRS let fans bully them into making her dlc), whose bloodlust is fuelled by her Tarkatan blood, a trait she cannot help because it's instinctual. Finally, in MK: Deception's Konquest mode he agrees to train Shujinko if Shujinko helps him in return, and he does but in his own way. Experience instead of practice. Havik doesn't come off as evil but chaotic neutral.

Wasted Plotential

I try not to complain about anything these days because I know NRS are gonna disappoint us anyways, but if I was to really complain about things then I'll start with the storymode, and with the previous games.

MKX could've just been about Sub Zero and Scorpion finding out about Quan Chi and stopping Shinnok. How? Idk, Johnny uses the amulet to trap Shinnok, the Special Forces find Sektor's files and reveal them to Scorpion, who gets his revenge and yada yada. Helps them free Sub Zero and Jax, blah blah.

Scorpion defeating Shinnok is more believable since he's stronger and cooler (sorry Johnny), and has more familiarity with the Neatherealm. (What was the point of building up Johnny just to nerf him in MK11?)

Johnny and Sonya get divorced earlier on because of their differing views on the world (and parenting), so Cassie becomes a UFC fighter or a pro wrestler (as a reference to Johnny's quote in his MK9 chapter about possibly winning a belt in the tournament). I remember coming up with an idea where Jacqui leaves the Special Forces and gets trained by the Shirai-Ryu, but saw an AU fanart design where she was trained by the Lin Kuei, which sounds so much better since it separates her from Takeda. Jacqui shares strong ideals with her father but his overbearing reluctance caused her to be more rebellious and find another way to defend Earthrealm without him possibly intercepting. Instead of being a Jax variant she shares more similarity to Human Cyrax (technology + ninjutsu assassination), and that can introduce a little beef with Frost and have them both deliver lines that feel more personal since they have the same teacher, but have different morals that make them butt heads. Johnny ends up leading the Kombat kids with the Wu Shi instead of the Special Forces, edging Sonya to check on Cassie more often by trying to be involved with their missions. (During MK9 Johnny was glued to Raiden's side and his focus was more on the tournament than on Sonya. After Cyrax defeats him it's Raiden that checks on him.) Instead of Cassie saving the day, have Scorpion save the day because Shinnok is Quan Chi's master, and Scorpion needs to fix his mess. Also because Scorpion would have better control with his powers and has more experience.

The next game can introduce Havik, with the chaos happening in small ways at first, like trees slowly decaying and technology acting against them. Havik is a lesser evil than Shao Kahn, Quan Chi and Shinnok, but he's nothing Scorpion or Sub Zero have handled before since he's less predictable and isn't paranoid about someone threatening his power. Bro just wants to spread some joy and laughter (sarcasm). I'm pretty sure Havik wouldn't even have an army, and I doubt his minions will be anything like the aggressive jobbers that are seen in Outworld. With Shao Kahn it's power and being served, but with Havik it would be everyone serves each other, meaning they will inflict pain on each other and themselves = This game can be about the heroes and villains turning on themselves, by being more honest and less co-operative.

The Special Forces start being wary of the Wu Shi, Sonya interrogates Dark Raiden on information he could be withholding about the realms, Raiden counters back with how she is trying to enlist the Kombat kids behind his back when they are already content with their current positions.

Frost has stolen Sektor's body parts from the Special Forces, and plans to cyberise herself with them. Jacqui and Cassie are sent to stop Frost's cyber initiation plans. Cassie defeats Frost, but Jacqui has the need to rehabilitate her, which sets her at odds with Cassie who doesn't believe Frost is worthy of it, and that they must follow Raiden's orders.

Noob Saibot is working under revenant Liu Kang, but just like his MK9 ending, he starts plotting against him and the other revenants. Noob confronts Hanzo about his loyalty to Quan Chi, and how Hanzo worked with him even after Noob was killed. Noob's revenge is forcing Hanzo to shift between himself and Scorpion, ensuring that the Lin Kuei and Shirai-Ryu will never have peace with Hanzo continuously reliving the past and trying to kill Sub Zero.

Kung Lao reports that the head of Shinnok is missing, and Liu Kang accuses Kung Lao of having something to do with it, and so the revenants turn on themselves. A civil war begins in Neatherealm.

Hotaru meets up with the heroes and tells them that Havik is behind their plight, and offers Seidos help if Earthrealm helps them with the resistance in Seido. Kung Jin and Takeda are sent to aid and they witness the injustice and lunacy of Seidos rules. Kung Jin being Kung Jin speaks against this, and Hotaru has a problem with it, Takeda tries his best to keep the peace. Kung Jin defeats Darrius, Dairou and whatever. Although Hotaru keeps his word about the help thing, he is overbearing when it comes to the rules and their strategy, even getting in the way of the Special Forces.

Skarlet teams up with Tanya to find Mileena's soul (Because why not?They're sisters). Ermac doesn't have it, so they must find it through the Neatherealm. They meet Noob, who admits that he consumed it, but points out the location of the Flesh Pits for a calling of clues. Skarlet combines her power with Noob's to give life to the clones encased in glass (blood + shadow). The clones unleash chaos throughout Outworld, but Skarlet is not finished in her revenge.

Johnny reveals to Dairou that Darrius is behind his family's murder, and sets him free to let him get revenge. Sonya argues that he's made a terrible mistake, but Johnny says that she let Kano live and how that keeps screwing everyone over.

Johnny decides to get a drink at a bar, and Havik will show up, calm and collected. Johnny compliments his costume, and Havik expresses that his fake-ness is an interesting weapon.

I don't know what else.

Theory

I think Havik's hero equivalent would be Johnny Cage, which is where he would come in as the hero instead of defeating a former elder god. Havik isn't Godlike, I'd say his power level is identical to Edenian/Outworld, and if Sonya can handle defeating Kitana and Jade at the same time, then Johnny can handle his own against Havik. Just like Havik, Johnny has a separation from the other heroes concerning his traits and/or beliefs, even sometimes clashing with Cassie, who is always noted to be much like him in personality. Johnny has an easy going attitude that pisses off just about everyone around him, to the point . I think he would be the first to pick up on the odd energy surrounding everyone.

First off he likes to give everyone a nickname, much to their displeasure. Very adamant on giving them those names, but Havik would arguably (probably) be more accepting. I'm quite certain that Havik's name is a title given to him or a name he's made up himself. There are some fans who speculate that he doesn't even have a name given at birth and made up 'Havik' to be his name, suggesting that the name is somewhat earned through experience.

Chaosrealm doesn't have a real name, like Edenia and Seido, it's simply called Chaosrealm. They don't have a name for themselves, simply a representation of what they embody.

"Grandmaster Blueberry Ice, eh?"

"Only Johnny Cage may use that name and live."

Johnny's humour is fuelled by his insensitivity, even while fighting on the side of good he is self-serving, superficial and has a self confidence that almost everyone is eager to stomp on (he's basically a normal person). Even when he clearly doesn't mean to be insensitive (speaking the truth or what's on his mind), people still get offended by what he's said and express some form of aggression. Hell, Bi Han kicked the hell out of him just for touching his arm in MK1.

Now I'm going to get really technical here: In MK11 Skarlet was present and you could tell she was a stand-in for Mileena, which is shown in her sibling rivalry with Kitana. Now let's say Joker was a stand-in for Havik, and in his ending he voices his displeasure about the roster "But these nincompoops? They didn't really get me. Not even that pretty boy, Ninja Mine. Goodnight, sweet Prince!" meaning Joker saw some potential in Johnny Cage. Saw something that suggested that they are similar.

Johnny Cage's humour aside, there has to be something else.

Now let's get into Johnny's MK9 ending: Johnny starts to have spasms where a burst of energy would escape him and destroy everything around him, so he is sent to Seido to learn how to better control it.

Next, to Havik and Johnny's Armageddon endings: Johnny becomes enlightened, freed from vanity and leaves the acting business. What seemed like the joys of life before became meaningless to him, and wanted no part in the shallow lifestyle. Then there's Havik, whose dream for chaos becomes absolute.

(As a bonus let's compare Johnny's ending to Hotaru's, where everyone was forced to bow to Hotaru or be changed into someone they're not. Havik gets the worst end of it by being turned into Hotaru's 2nd in command. What's even funnier is that in the Armageddon intro I can spot Hotaru as the one who impaled Li Mei, but Li Mei is on the side of good while Hotaru is suspiciously on the opposite, despite being against the forces of evil. Why would he be on the same side as Havik when they are enemies? I would also like to point out that Johnny was fighting Darrius, a man resisting the Order of Seido.)

I already wrote something similar to this in another post I made like a year ago, but I'm gonna say this anyway. Johnny found out by himself that all the luxuries and fame that he sought in life weren't worth it. In his MK11 ending he ends up going on adventures with Cassie after coming to this realisation, choosing a life where he can always spend time with those he loves, not ruling over the world or being a dictator. There's chaos within Johnny, but there is a want or need for peace and stability.

Johnny should've been the one that was super pissed about being in a death tournament. Up until that point Johnny has never killed anyone, yet suddenly is expected to in exchange for his own life. How does he, a Hollyweird actor, fit into all this? He got tricked into this yet was able to adapt. He's fine with it, or pretends to be, handling it better than everyone else around. The "Sure, let's go and ruin someone else's life." quote from MK9 always runs through my head when I think about his dedication to defending Earthrealm and trusting Raiden.

When the tournament took place Johnny didn't really know Raiden personally, but Johnny trusted him. Johnny had no reason to be loyal to Raiden, yet he was, unlike Liu Kang who ended up losing faith and rebelling. Johnny has all the recipes to let his ego get to him and potentially betray Raiden, but he never does so.

If Havik and Johnny were to have anything in common, I would say it's a strong sense of faith in what they believe in. Johnny fights for the betterment of Earthrealm, Havik fights for havoc.

I'm very certain that even though Johnny changed over the years, the people around him still hold a dislike towards him to some degree. My first candidates for this are Sonya and Jax.

Read this if you can be bothered: [No matter what, Jax cannot stand Johnny, even at an age where they're more familiar with each other.]

Sonya and Jax are basically the order to Johnny's chaos. Being around them has also influenced (turned) him into someone he wasn't, which was a self hating Special Forces aid (What are is credentials?). It was Hotaru's Armageddon ending but slower.

The reason I haven't listed Kuai Liang is because... I think Kuai Liang has a bit of a friendship with Johnny. He's fond of him, but he won't admit it. He even helps Johnny in sending the Kombat kids into a fake mission with the Lin Kuei.

[usafphantom2]

French AASM Hammer Bomb Spotted On Ukrainian MiG-29

March 18, 2024 Troubled Areas, War in Ukraine

Ukrainian MiG-29 AASM

Ukrainian MiG-29 carrying an AASM guided bomb. (Photo: unknown author via @Osinttechnical)

Few months after it was announced, we now have visual confirmation of the guided bomb being employed by Ukrainian MiG-29s.

An image of a MiG-29 of the Ukrainian Air Force, armed with a French-made AASM Hammer guided bomb, emerged online few days ago. The photo represents the first visual evidence of the weapon being used in the country after both Ukraine and Russia claimed the weapon was being employed earlier this month.

The image comes after French President Emmanuel Macron announced in January 2024 that the country will supply Ukraine with 50 AASM bombs per month and a total of 40 additional SCALP missiles throughout 2024. The deliveries reportedly started immediately after the announcement, but only this month the first use of the weapon was reported.

In particular, the commander of the Ukrainian Air Force, Lieutenant General Mykola Oleshchuk, published the UAV footage of what was claimed as the first AASM strike, as well as an image of a 250 kg AASM bomb with a writing in Cyrillic saying “For the children of Odesa. With hatred, without respect”. Shortly thereafter, Russian officials claimed that they intercepted and shot down an AASM bomb.

The AASM “Hammer” (Armement Air-Sol Modulaire “Highly Agile Modular Munition Extended Range”) is a kit, consisting of a nose guidance section and a tail range extension kit, that can be applied to 250 kg and 1000 kg bombs (125 kg and 500 kg variants are under consideration). The kit is offered in three variants: inertial and GPS guidance, GPS, inertial and laser guidance, and SBU-64 GPS, inertial, and infrared guidance.

The weapon can be employed day or night, under all weather conditions, at stand-off ranges which can reach over 70 km when launched from high altitude. The AASM can also be employed effectively at low altitude (with Safran saying it can still reach stand-off ranges) and highly off-axis respect to the target, and has the ability to perform precision vertical strikes, much like many missiles’ top-down attack capability.

The weapon has been fully integrated on the Rafale, while it has been integrated as stand-alone system on the Mirage 2000, Mirage F1 and F-16. Because of this, it was expected that the AASM would be used by the F-16 once delivered to Ukraine. Instead, the weapon is being already employed by the MiG-29.

While the quality of the photo doesn’t allow to discern details, it appears that the AASM is possibly being used in conjunction with the same pylon developed to carry the JDAM ER bombs already delivered to Ukraine. For the JDAM ER, in fact, a special pylon was developed with an extension forward of the bomb attachment points, possibly housing an antenna or an emitter of some kind.

About Stefano D'Urso

Stefano D'Urso is a freelance journalist and contributor to TheAviationist based in Lecce, Italy. A graduate in Industral Engineering he's also studying to achieve a Master Degree in Aerospace Engineering. Electronic Warfare, Loitering Munitions and OSINT techniques applied to the world of military operations and current conflicts are among his areas of expertise.

@theAviationist.com via X

[foomoosworld]

The Raven And The Firefly CHAPTER 3

Minors DNI

Joel Miller X Fem Reader

Summary: Joel finds himself wrangled into a situation where he has to take a woman, who had lived on the outskirts of the QZ in the local landfill, to find her father, Poe. The Fireflies have heard that Poe has a drug that will cure the Cordycept virus that has ended most of the population and his daughter (the woman from the landfill) is immune but he won't give anything up until he has his daughter back in his arms. The same woman Joel is trying to deliver across he country safely. Tess waits with baited breath, waiting for the delivery of the cure for the virus while Joel and you travel across the country against all odds and hoping that what you heard wasn't just a pipe dream.

A/N I should say, first and foremost, that I am not the original creator of this story line and I am told to thank Stars Too Far Fans for finding this because, apparently, this story will tie into that. I'm a friend of the original author of Stars Too Far who is currently having health issues and they stated that intertwining two different fan fic series with an interesting plot line was one of their wishes while they recuperate. They wrote a lot more frequently than I can upkeep but have given me an outline of everything that will happen in this series and into another series. I know I have some big shoes to fill. I'm sorry I'm not them. But I hope I do this justice from their notes over the next few months or year. Please give some love to FooMoo. In the meantime, I will continue the horrifically intricate legacy they laid out for me as best as I can. XOX. Love you FooMoo.

I should also state, I don't know what to call the chapters because they would choose a poignant moment of dialogue and I'm feeling like this isn't my own so I won't be naming chapters. I'm sorry.

CHAPTER 3

You sit on the bed clad in Tess’s clothes, looking unsurely up at Tess who glares back with crossed arms.  Your eyes dart to Joel, who is standing emotionless in the bathroom door until Tess shoots him a sharp glare and after he tries to hold it, is scorned too much by the heat and turns to busy himself with cleaning coffee mugs in the grimy sink.

“You’re wearing my clothes.”  Tess says flatly to you.

You open and close your mouth like a fish desperately gasping for air in terror and look towards Joel who is doing everything in his power to pretend washing a mug will hold the universe together.  He obviously will be no help to you.

“I… I just put on the clothes Joel told me to…”  You stammer, yet knowing full well that they were Tess’s clothes.

Tess slowly shifts her eyes to Joel’s back that is still washing the same mug over and over in the sink.  She grabs a pair of dirty his pants from the floor and throws it at him.  They hit him and he freezes then sucumbs and turns around..

“What?”  Joel gruffs at Tess, “Was she supposed to walk around in rags that smelled like garbage that would attract attention?   Or would you prefer she just walked around naked?  I worked with what I had.”  Joel tries to justify.

Tess chews her teeth and exhales heavily.  

“Come on.  Both of you.  We’re going to meet some Fireflies.”  She rutts out.

“Are they going to kill me?”  You ask as you walk with Tess.

“That isn’t my place to say.”  Tess grunts.

“Are they going to kill you?”  You ask.

“If the price is right.”  Tess responds.

“What…” Joel pipes up, “... exactly is the price?”  He asks standing firmly and not moving from his stance at the sink as Tess takes you by the arm and ushers you to move out the front door with her.  She turns and shoots daggers in her stare and he merely cocks his eyebrow at her.  Rolling her eyes, she ushers you back onto the couch and yanks Joel into the bathroom to talk privately.

“Look-” Tess starts, frustrated, as she shuts the bathroom door i, “I can’t go on this mission.  They want me here to man the radio for an incoming frequency with intel about when we can intercept a shipment of drugs to Poe.”

“They’re using her as a bargaining chip?”  Joel assumes and snarks.

“No…”  Tess looks down and takes his large calloused hands in hers then looks back up into his suspicious eyes, “They say she’s immune.”

Joel steps back and his mind swirls with the implications of her statement.  He sneers at the thought of this job and Tess sees his reaction and throws up her hands to calm him.

“I know…  I don’t like it either.  It’s sketchy.  They aren’t giving me much information at this point but it seems like they may be correct.  She doesn’t test positive or negative for infection, as we saw with the wall guard andt they’ve shown me CCTV images of her getting bitten and surviving.” 

Joel turns his head to the bathroom door as if looking at you.

“What’s the worst that happens?”  Tess bargained, “You take her to the Fireflies and they kill her?  No skin off your back.  And they wouldn’t go to us to do a job like that.  They know we aren’t Bounty Hunters.  They want her. And I’ve spoken with Poe on the radio-”

“You and that goddamn radio-” Joel starts to rage but Tess quells it,

“She’s important.  And we pay off big.  Like, enough money for me to get a home outside of the QZ with provisions for life and for you to search and find Tommy.”

Joel hesitates then sighs and looks down at his shoes for a moment while he digests the information.

“Fine.”  He finally grunts. 

“Good.”  Tess breaks a small smile and raises a hand to caress his face.  Joel angrily dodges it, “This will be good for both of us.”

Tess straightens up and turns to leave the bathroom before adding, “It smells like sex in here.  Open a damn window, you mongoloid.” 

……………………

You, Tess and Joel scurry through the QZ, navigating large buildings like labyrinths in order to avoid the military on the streets and finally come to a long, cracked, dusty hallway with garbage strewn around it when Tess holds out her arm curtly to stop you and Joel from proceeding.

A large metal door slowly whines open and Marlene, a late 40’s black woman in an old army jacket, worn in combat boots and her curly hair tied up on the top of her head strides confidently into the hallway.

“The elusive Amy.”  She smiles slowly as she takes you in.  You turn your head and eye her suspiciously.  She  strides slowly forward, “And with Joel Miller.  You keep popping up in my life though I’ve been trying my best to avoid you.”  She teases.

“Same.”  Joel grunts.

Marlene raises up a testing box to your neck and you cringe as it spikes you.  As she lowers it and looks at the screen it reads nothing.  Not positive or negative and she cocks her head and arches her eyebrows.  “Well, you two seem to have brought us the correct person.”

Joel eyes Marlene suspiciously and realizes how valuable you are to her, all of the sudden and wrap an arm around you and pull you back behind him.,

“I’ll man the radio to listen for  Poe since he trusts me-”

“Poe?!?”  You stagger from behind Joel as he tries to contain you, “You can talk to my father?!?” You shout eagerly.

Marlene nods slowly then motions to a CV radio on a dusty and dilapidated wood table.  You break out of Joel’s grasp and grab the radio, frantically trying to push buttons to make it work but nothing happens as you speak into it.  Marlene slowly and gently picks the microphone out of your hand, pushes a few buttons and speaks into the microphone. Joel slowly wraps his arms around you, worried about any response you have.

“”X-Wing, are you there?”  Marlene calmly asks into the void of radio.  Your eyes dart back and forth between her and the radio as you almost burst in excitement.

“I hear you, Lightning Bug.” a raspy monotone voice returns from the radio.

You barrel out of Joel’s grasp and grab the microphone from Marlene’s hands.

“Dad!  It’s me Aimeo!”

There’s a long pause.  So long you look to Joel dwith a helpless glare that shoots into his soul and Marlene with tears welling in your eyes.

“My girl…”  Poe weaky and shakily responds through his tears.

“Where are you?!?”  you frantically ask clutching the microphone, however, Marlene switches off he radio and prys the mic out of your hand.  She shakes her head sternly,

“You can’t know where he is if you want to find him.  The radio isn’t safe.  You’ll get to him, but you can’t ever talk about where you are or where he is or it puts both of you in Jeorpardy.”

Tears silently flowed down your face as your jaw tightened and your fists clenched.  You wanted to rage and attack her.

A hand grasped your shoulder then soothed down your back.

“We’re going to him.”  Joel soothed you.  You barely could catch your hitching breath as you turned and looked at him as he tried to quell you.

“Go pack your bag with the rations and supplies over there.”  Marlene instructed you.  You looked to Joel, still teary eyed and emotionally shaky and he just nodded at you.  You put your head down and did as you were told.

“Is that really her father?”  Joel asked as soon as you were out of ear shot

“Well, it’s the closest damn thing we’ll ever find to a man that shares their weird delusion of being from outerspace.”  Joel raised an eyebrow.  “This whole situation is fucked.  She’s apparently immune, her father has drugs that can stop the spread, they all think they’re from space…  It reads like some mentally ill cult shit but… she doesn’t read anything… and Poe’s drugs have helped a kid.  I don’t know what to think.  I just know she needs to get to the medical facility.  And if I was you, never let her actually meet Poe.  We need this mental dillusion to keep going smoothly until we can get answers.”

[deonideatta]

Bots. Yeah. Same problem here 😭

Anyway, drabble prompt: classic "sick fic" for TwiYor?

They never has anyone take care of them, so the awkwardness are there, but also genuine concern.

Hello, thanks for the prompt!!!! This is definitely longer than a drabble but I had fun with it lol. And in my defense i didn’t know that apparently a drabble is only supposed to be like 100 words 😂😂 

It took a bit long to finish because I got sick myself midway through writing it lol. At least I can say that all the details for the sick parts are based on fresh and recent first hand experience haha

But yea here it is!! Hope you enjoy!! :)

-------------

Twilight does not forget things. Least of all mildly important things, like his umbrella on a day when the forecast won’t stop bringing up the rain. And yet, when he reaches the hospital exit at the end of his shift, he realizes with a start that he’s left it at home, by the door in the umbrella stand. Despite his best efforts he makes it home soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair like it’s mocking him.

Yor takes his coat to hang in the bathroom, and Anya carries a whole pile of towels over to him. He takes just one, drying himself off as well as he can. But even after he’s changed into drier clothes he can’t shake off the cold, shivering all through the evening despite Yor and Anya piling blankets over him.

He brushes off their concerns, though he imagines it’s hard to take him seriously from underneath a mountain of blankets. He doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, but he heads to bed a bit earlier than usual on Yor’s insistence. A little extra sleep probably won’t hurt.

He wakes up the next day with a deep seated ache in his muscles. The mere action of turning to check the time takes far more effort than it should, and his eyes burn as he squints at the clock in the low light.

He tries to get up, and promptly lies back down when his muscles scream in protest and his head spins. His senses come to him as if through fog, and he registers vaguely that his throat hurts and his room is way too warm. 

At first, he wonders if he’s just tired. There’s always some degree of exhaustion lingering in his bones, but he’s a master of staving it off, and not letting it influence the standard of his work. But it’s just past 6am, and he’s pretty sure this is the most he’s slept in ages.

Has he been poisoned? Some kind of nerve agent? He stares groggily at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Even through the mental haze he knows it’s unlikely. No, this is probably just the result of the unholy union between the rainstorm he’d been caught in and weeks of getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep per night.

Twilight groans in annoyance, making a new effort to get out of bed. This time he succeeds. Well, partially. The moment he stands up he has to sit down again, breath coming in short, frustrated puffs. 

He tries again. There’s work that need doing, he doesn’t have time to be sick. If he just manages to get up and douse himself in cold water, he’ll probably feel fine enough to at least deliver some reports. Moving at a quarter of his usual pace, he manages to make it to his door and halfway to the bathroom before Yor intercepts him with a greeting from inside the kitchen. 

“Good morning Loid, did you….” she trails off as she takes in his face. Whatever she sees causes her cheery smile to drop, and Twilight frowns. Surely it’s not that clear that he’s sick.

“Loid, are you alright? You look really ill!” Yor’s voice is filled with concern, and she rushes out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, studying him worriedly.

“I’m alright, Yor, don’t worry,” he says. It’s his least convincing lie ever, pathetic in everything from its delivery to the tone of his voice. “I just need a cold shower, and I’ll be fine.” He tries for a smile, knowing it looks feeble even before the worry in Yor’s expression deepens.

Twilight is just about to force out another half-hearted reassurance when Yor reaches up and puts a hand on his forehead, mirroring the action with her other hand on her own forehead. The contact and the proximity are the final straw for Twilight’s already struggling train of thought, and the protests die in his throat. 

Yor pulls her hand away suddenly, like she’d been burned. With how warm he feels, it seems fitting.

“I’m sorry- I just,” Yor stammers, gathering her hands together. Her concern for him seems to override her embarrassment, and for some reason Twilight feels vaguely flattered. “I didn’t mean to overstep, but Loid I think you have a fever.”

That checks out, given the headache and the warmness. With the sore throat, it might even be the flu. He doesn’t manage to say any of that, suddenly hit by a wave of lightheadedness. 

He must have stumbled, because Yor's hand is suddenly on his arm, steadying him.

"Loid, I don't think you should go to work today," Yor says, and she sounds nervous and firm all at once. “And fevers are best treated with lukewarm water, not cold.”

"I appreciate your concern Yor, but I have things to do," he starts, and he's vaguely aware of how petulant he sounds, like Anya asking to watch another episode of Spy Wars before bed. And speaking of Anya. "Anya needs to go to school as well, I need to help her get ready."

Yor's hand on his arm is cool against his flushed skin as she shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll help Anya get ready. You need rest, and that's more important than work," she says, and all of Twilight's inbuilt desire to be efficient at any cost screams in protest. 

"Just let me call work then," he says anyway, because despite that internal drive he has to admit that he's not sure he'll be particularly useful in this state. He must be getting soft. He’s persevered through injury and illness alike - it’s almost humiliating to be so incapacitated by a fever.

Yor nods, letting go of his arm to let him shuffle towards the telephone. He makes a quick call to Handler, who sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. He can almost see her raised eyebrows when he tells her he’s sick, but something in his voice must be convincing because she agrees to take care of his workload for the day and tells him to rest up. He scoffs at that, going to hang up.

"Take better care of yourself, Twilight," she says, just before he can lower the phone. "I know we give you a lot of work, but don’t neglect your health just to keep up with it.”

He mumbles something in return and makes his way back to his room. He catches a glimpse of Yor in the kitchen as he passes, filling a glass with water and gathering some medicine from the cabinet.

Lying down is a far bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, to the point that he barely registers the sound of knocking on the door, followed by Yor pushing it open. She hands him a glass of water and some pills, and he downs them, trying not to wince at how sore his throat feels. 

“I’m going to go to work now,” Yor says gently. “I’ll make sure Anya gets to school on time too, so don’t worry about her.”

She hovers above him, worried but seemingly unsure, and he does his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yor,” he says, voice still annoyingly weak. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me either.”

Yor smiles back, looking somewhat placated, though the worry lingers in the tightness of her smile. She closes the door gently behind her, and Twilight contents himself with half-listening to the sounds of Anya and Yor getting ready for the day, drifting in and out of sleep.

A while later Anya pops her head in to greet him and say goodbye, and he musters up enough strength to give her a weak wave and a goodbye in return.

Then he lies there, alone and in the dark, uselessly sick. Rest, Yor and Handler had both said, but his brain refuses to cooperate, racing with thoughts about the mission reports he really should have finished yesterday. Except it isn’t really racing, it’s trudging slowly through the mass of information he’d normally have no problem speedily sorting through. It’s frustrating, and it makes his head hurt more.

The longer he lies there the more restless he feels, like he could be making far better use of his time. To make things worse, his room is still far too warm. He squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, trying to force himself to sleep. If he sleeps, perhaps he’ll feel better more quickly, and then he can get back to work. But any sleep that comes is shallow and restless, and the stupid reports just won’t stop trying and failing to sort themselves out in his mind.

The clock reads 10am when Twilight gives up. Pushing himself up despite the way his body protests, he shuffles out to the living room, a folder of reports in one hand and a pillow in the other. The cooler air is pleasant against his skin, though the light stings at his eyes at first. 

Settling on the couch, he opens the folder and starts to read. He barely gets a few paragraphs in before what had been a mild headache morphs into a sharp pain behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a bit, finding relief in the dark. He repeats the cycle a few more times, until the headache gets to the point where the words on the page start to blur.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s started to tremble, and suddenly he’s glad he brought the pillow with him. It’s cooler out here, so maybe it’ll be easier to sleep for a while. The cacophony of aches and pains in his body lessens slightly as he lies down, and he feels himself drifting away surprisingly quickly.

Just a little sleep, he thinks. Just to get rid of the headache, and then he can get back to the reports.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his bed, and there’s sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He lies still for a moment, disoriented and very confused. His room isn’t as stiflingly warm as before, and the clock tells him that it’s past 3pm. Alarmed, he tries to sit up, and finds that the feverish aches in his muscle have lessened, albeit marginally.

He looks around, trying to sort out the mess in his head. How on earth did he get back to his room without realizing?

Yor interrupts his thoughts by poking her head into the room, and her eyes light up when she sees him awake.

“Loid! Are you feeling any better?” she asks, coming to stand by his bedside.

“A bit,” he says, still mildly confused. “How did I- when did you…?”

“Ah,” Yor says, flushing lightly. “I came back early because I was worried, and I found you sleeping on the couch.”

Her expression turns disapproving. “You really shouldn’t work when you’re sick, Loid,” she says, frowning. “I understand wanting to be productive, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health.”

He feels oddly chastised, and nods silently. Yor’s expression melts into a small smile.

“I’ve made you some soup,” she says. “It’s the best thing for when you’re ill. I asked Camilla for the recipe, so I hope it tastes alright.”

Twilight nods again, filled with the trepidation that usually surrounds Yor’s attempts at cooking. Yor disappears out of the door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. Despite her track record, the soup smells rather good, and Twilight can’t say he isn’t grateful for the kindness.

Yor hands him the tray, and he studies the soup. It looks good. It smells alright. Perhaps it’ll be fine to eat a bit. His stomach doesn’t tie into knots at the thought, so he plucks up his courage and takes a spoonful. And then another, and another, because it’s actually some really good soup. A surprised smile makes its way onto his face.

“This is really good, Yor,” he says, and despite everything there’s a note of genuine happiness in his voice. It’s nothing groundbreaking, a simple broth based vegetable soup, but it’s soothing and warming and Twilight finds that he appreciates it even more for the effort and care that went into making it.

Yor beams, and Twilight finds himself captivated by the sight.

“I’m glad to hear it!” she says, her smile wide and proud. Radiant. It causes a warm feeling in Twilight’s chest that he doesn’t think he can blame on the fever or the soup. He chooses to ignore it, tearing his eyes away from Yor and focusing back on emptying the bowl. Being sick is no excuse to indulge in things that aren’t relevant to the mission.

Oblivious to his brief internal battle, Yor sits on the bed next to him, chatting about her day and the process of making the soup. He listens, occupied by eating, interjecting here and there. It’s nice, and despite the lingering aches of the fever and his mind warning him not to get too comfortable Twilight almost feels peaceful.

“By the way Yor,” he says, when there’s a lull in conversation. “How did I get back here?”

Yor immediately goes red, eyes shifting everywhere. 

“I- I carried you over,” she mumbles. “It wasn’t too hard, and it was mainly because I was afraid that you’d hurt your back or your neck from sleeping on the couch, and when I brought you back it was way too warm in here, so I opened the window a little to let some fresh air in, and…” Yor seems to have realized that she’s rambling, trailing off.

Twilight doesn’t know what to say. The extent of Yor’s concern fills him with more of that warmth he doesn’t know what to make of. For almost all of his life, getting sick has been an arduous and solitary affair. He hasn’t really had anyone he trusted enough to help him through something as vulnerable as sickness. Miserably dousing himself in WISE provided medicines and trying to keep working through whatever coughs and colds came his way had become standard procedure for him.

But Yor’s smile is more soothing than all those medicines, and the soup is flavourful and gentle on his sore throat, and some emotion he can’t (won’t) label sweeps through him. He’s vulnerable in this state, he can’t work, and he still feels the aches and pains of the fever. And above all, indulging in domesticity is supposed to be out of the question. And yet there’s a deep seated contentment that settles in his core as he sits there and eats the soup, knowing that he’s cared for.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of addressing any of the feelings building in his chest. “I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“It’s ok, I’m your wife,” Yor says seriously, before flushing and fumbling to amend her statement. “I mean, as your wife in this arrangement, it’s the least I could do.”

Twilight laughs, a quiet but genuine thing, and Yor smiles through the blush on her cheeks.

When the soup is finished, Yor leaves him to rest again with a promise to come back later. Settling back under the covers, Twilight finds that sleep comes a lot easier when his mind is filled with thoughts of Yor instead of trying and failing to analyze mission reports.

Over the next few days he recovers under Yor’s watchful eye, slowly but surely. She brings him soup and tea, and Anya comes to sit on his bed in the evenings, reading chapters from Spy x Wars to him.

There’s something soothing about the fact that they care about him enough to look after him like this. It can’t last, and he knows it, but Twilight selfishly relishes it all - the tenderness in Yor’s touch when she puts her hand on his forehead to check for returning fevers, the way Anya does her best to help out, the way Yor checks in on him throughout the day.

He still feels a bit useless being bedridden and unable to take on his usual workload, but he does his best not to think of it as going soft, or overindulging in domesticity. The severity of his sickness this time is probably the result of years of never allowing himself to recover from illnesses properly. So he lets himself rest, and if those days spent recovering are some of the most peaceful days of his life, no one has to know.

A week or two after he’s healthy again, Anya comes home sneezing. When he starts sneezing as well a few days later, Twilight begins to wonder if perhaps he should take more vitamins and start working on fixing his sleep schedule.

--------------------

Hope it was a good read!!! I enjoyed writing it :D