#don't accept table scraps

[maskedhatter]

I feel like "Thasmin" & "Destiel" should form their own subcategory in terms of queerbait. You know, the one where they make an lgbt+ technically cannon a few episodes before to the finale in order to bait shipper's/lgbt+ folks into watching said finale, only to do NOTHING with said lgbt+ ship and make no reference to the ship ever being a thing.

[wachi-delectrico]

Gonna get spicy for a second and say that everyone loves spewing hate about narcissistic (NPD) parents and how awful parents with personality disorders are, but if someone were to make a post with the exact same cadence about ADHD parents they'd get shot in public at first sight

[always-just-red]

Please make a story that zayne is very clingy, sweet , romantic

For Mc

Pretty please

Make it long

Please

Please

Need a food 🥺

Food is served!! (One of these days you guys are gonna see an 'only accepting requests for Rafayel now' post and it'll be Raf hijacking my computer because WHY WAS I CATCHING FEELINGS FOR ZAYNE WHILE WRITING THIS??)

Doctor's Orders

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: Zayne has suggested you skip work today, which isn't suspicious at all...

Genre: Fluff (with a *pinch* of angst)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some kisses, some mentions of death (just a real mixed bag, you know?)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Do you really have to go?”

Zayne was a lot of things: caring, even doting, but never normally this… clingy.

You pretend not to hear the question, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you get ready to leave. You will answer it— you’re not ignoring him— but you have so much to do, and you’ve answered it three times already. Yes, Zayne. It’s work. You finish lacing your boots. And no, Zayne, I can’t get out of it.

And since when was he an advocate of skipping a shift, anyway? Like blood from a stone, he’d calmly pleaded with you to come up with some sort of excuse and you’d stared back, eyes wide, because you didn’t know stones could bleed.

An excuse? You’d repeated in disbelief.

Yes. You could… tell them you’re sick? I could write you a note.

You’d thought it a joke until he drew out a pen and started scrawling something on the nearest scrap of paper. He’d pushed it into your hands, his gaze earnest, as though he were trusting a co-conspirator. Here, he’d said matter-of-factly, you can give it to your captain tomorrow.

The writing was barely legible.

It’s still crinkling in your pocket now: your little ‘get-out-of-your-Sunday-shift-free’ card, courtesy of Doctor Zayne, and yes, you are going to hold onto it, but it’s not for Jenna. It’s for your apartment wall, where you’ll be mounting it in a golden frame, because absolutely no-one is going to believe you when you tell this story.

You collect your guns from a nearby drawer, checking the sights and the safety on each before holstering them at your sides. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back,” you shrug.

A nice sentiment— not entirely true. “Or you could stay.” Zayne is looking at your weapons, not you.

He’s sat at the kitchen table, watching you over an untouched breakfast. Yours also sits around him: plates upon plates of every food you could imagine, warm and cold, savoury and sweet. You’d suffered a brief heart attack when you’d first laid eyes on it, presuming you’d forgotten some occasion or another.

There’s even a vase of fresh flowers, flourishing at the centre of it all.

It’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever seen, but you’re starting to think that’s the point. Like a hand on your heart, squeezing; it’s urging you to sit back down, to relax, to surrender and let him take care of you. Are you the worst person in the world? It feels like you are.

Ready to take on anything but more of his gaze, you return to the table, fully-armed, and pluck a strawberry from the edge of a plate. You pop it into your mouth, savouring its sweetness as you stroll behind Zayne’s chair. “Try not to worry,” you mumble, resting your hand on his shoulder while you lean in to kiss his cheek. “Ok?”

“Ok.”

You go to pull away, but his hand lands on your hand, anchoring you to him. His fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting, guiding your fingers in front of his mouth so he can press a few, brisk kisses to each. Your heart is in a vice again— tightening with every brush of his lips. You can’t take it. You can’t.

He knows, and he’s turning in the chair, slipping his free hand around your waist and tugging until you’re crushed up against him. “Stay. Please?” his voice entreats. You can barely hear it from where his face is nestled into you.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, and you sigh as your hands move to cradle his head and run your fingers through his hair. You want to enjoy this. Why can’t you enjoy this?

His breath is fanning against you and all you can think about is the fact that he’s making you late.

…

You’re marching to headquarters twice as quickly as usual, and you’ve crashed into three people already. Every time there’s been an impulse to scream “get out of the way!” but you’re wearing your uniform, so you have to apologise, smile sweetly, and pretend you’re not one incident away from turning in your badge and leaving them all to fend for themselves.

Someone steps out in front of you and you have to swerve to miss them, almost dropping your phone in the process. It had just started ringing, and the noise persists as you fumble with it.

“Hello?” you answer, putting it to one ear as you plug the other with a finger.

“Hi!” It’s Greyson, finally, and he’s surprisingly chipper for someone you know is just coming off of his graveyard shift. “I saw your texts. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! Thanks for calling. It’s just…”  Everything’s too noisy for you to concentrate, and you’re still essentially running an obstacle course. You peel away from the crowd, ducking into the quiet of an alley. “I’m a little worried about Zayne. He’s been acting weird all weekend, ever since—”

“Friday?”

“Yeah.” That couldn’t mean anything good. Your brow furrows. “Did something happen?” 

A drawn-out sigh makes it through the phone, and you know Greyson well enough to know he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much he should tell you. “We had a patient transferred to us on Friday,” he caves, “a young woman— a hunter, injured— she was… not in a good way. Recovery odds next to zero, but Zayne? You know Zayne. He had to try.”

You nod, even though Greyson can’t see it. There’s dread in the pit of your stomach; you can tell where this is going.

“She didn’t make it,” he states with the rehearsed evenness of someone who’s spoken the words too many times before. There’s another sigh, then he hastens to add: “Zayne was incredible, though— he did everything he could, really. He was her best chance, he just… wasn’t enough. You can’t save everyone, you know?” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, you know.”

And you do: you’re just as haunted by that truth and all of its ghosts. “Yeah,” you speak at last, seeing their faces. Your throat hurts. “Thanks, Greyson. Really.”

“That’s ok,” he yawns. “If Zayne asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You think he’s gonna believe that?”

“No.” He’s smiling, now— you can tell. “But it’s worth a try! You take care of yourself, ok?”

“You too. Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

…

You’ve only been gone for half an hour, but Zayne is fast asleep. Though you’d practically burst through the front door, his head is still lowered— dipping over an open medical journal— and his dark hair has fallen over his eyes. You can’t help but smile. This wasn’t the nervous, pacing-the-apartment man you’d expected to find, but it eases the guilt in your chest for the first time all morning.

You sling your bag from your shoulder and set it gently down on the floor, all the while easing the door closed behind you. You unfasten your holsters. Shrug yourself free of all their straps. You don’t make a sound; you’re being very careful.

Slowly, you make your way over to where Zayne’s lying on the sofa. You lower yourself to his level, reaching to pry his book from his fingers. His glasses are next: you ease them from his face like you’re handling a volatile protocore. Your breath is baited. Your hands almost shake, but you’re an expert at this sort of extraction: you’ve done it a hundred times before.

With your mission accomplished, you allow yourself one small reward. You want to see his face— all of his face— so you card your fingers through his fallen hair, smoothing it back into place. He looks like a dream: the kind you’re glad to carry through daylight, long after you wake. The kind you write down for fear of forgetting a single detail.

You want this, this, this. Every morning. For the rest of your life.

And maybe even the next life. Is that possible?

(You hope it’s possible.)

Standing softly, you smile again— a smile between you and the universe, the gods, and the night sky, in all its infinity. There are things you cannot know and even more things you cannot have, but you are more than content with your consolation prize. This:

One minute of peace, for you and your doctor.

You have a funny feeling this is more than you were ever meant to have.

When your minute is through, you watch as Zayne’s face changes, and he is no longer at peace. He frowns, his whole body suddenly tense. There’s a murmur of… pain? It sounds like pain— he winces like it’s pain. He doesn’t tell you where he goes, but you wish you could hold his hand and make a breakfast big enough to keep him from going there.

“Zayne,” you whisper, resting a warm palm on his cheek. A little louder: “Zayne.”

He stirs in his sleep as your voice brings him back to reality. He’s yours— yours— and the inevitable can have him later. Sure enough, his eyes flutter open, lost for a moment, but then? Home. Safe. With you.

“Hey,” you grin.

He squints against the daylight. “Hmm? Oh. What are you doing back so soon?”

You scoff. “Some doctor you are! I’m at death’s door— can’t you tell?” Your hand leaves his cheek, indicating your not-pallid skin, not-flushed cheeks, and not-sunken eyes with a wave. Then you find his hand, pressing his fingers to your forehead.

There’s a second of hesitation. “Ah,” he says warily, “yes, you’re… burning up.”

“Right?!” 

Despite the severity of your condition, you find the strength to clamber on top of him. It’s anything but graceful, and he groans as you shift and fidget, taking your time getting comfortable. Eventually you settle, your head resting against his chest and his arms holding you close. You’re not tired, but you close your eyes, and this is so much better than patrolling for Wanderers.

He draws you higher so his chin can rest on the top of your head. “Greyson told you, didn’t he?” he ventures aloud, because he’s awake, now, so he’s connecting dots.

“Yeah,” you nod against him. “But if he asks, I said it was Yvonne, ok?”

There’s a hum of agreement, then he’s silent. Thinking again. “I’m sorry,” he finally speaks.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s sweet that you worry. You don’t need to—”

“No,” he stops you. “I care about you a lot, and I’ll never apologise for that. What I am sorry for, however, is that a romantic gesture from me is so unusual that you feel you have to call my colleagues. I know I’m not always outwardly affectionate, but—”

“No.” It’s your turn now, and you twist, angling yourself so you can look up into his eyes. “You always make me feel loved, Zayne. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s for me, and no-one has ever cared about me like that. No-one has ever showed me they care like that.”

“Then why—”

“Because you get it, Zayne— the importance of what I do, because it’s what you do, even if it’s different. We’re both saving the world a little, right?”

“Right.”

You draw out his doctor’s note and shimmy it in front of his eyes. “So what the hell is this?”

He admits guilt with a chuckle, his hand moving to catch the evidence, but you’re one step ahead, stashing it back into the sanctity of your pocket. He issues a short hmph, defeated.

“Come on,” you prompt, escaping his arms. “Let’s not let all that food go to waste. You kept it, yeah? I’ve been dreaming about those chocolate-chip pancakes since I left.”

Zayne had been helping you up, but he slumps back as you finish your sentence. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” he confirms with the trademark nod of a doctor, and it can only mean one thing:

You’re about to receive some very, very bad news.

[l1tw1ck]

dean winchester consumes my mind LAWDDD I beg for anything with that man, surviving off of scraps looking for more top male reader x dean 🤕

- 🛸

No Longer a Mentor

Sub!Bottom Dean Winchester x Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,512 ☆

After spending his young adult years with you, his mentor, more than his father, Dean found himself falling for you. He eventually made a move and forever changed the dynamic of your relationship

🕯️: well luckily for u, i just finished this draft :3

CW: Age Gap, First Time Bottoming, Blowjob, Fingering, Frottage (Sort Of), Creampie

Dean’s known you for a couple years, you're a friend of his dad’s and a fellow hunter. You became his mentor in place of his father, who often hunted on his own and left Dean in your care. You liked to stay in your state since the area was basically a supernatural magnet while his father preferred to travel the country so he chose you to finally allow Dean to stay in one place for more than a week. If you were anybody else, Dean would've been annoyed that his dad didn't take him along despite his age and experience. Instead of going to college, Dean spent those years learning to hunt with his father and mostly you. Thanks to all the time you spend with each other, his allegiance to you is almost stronger than his allegiance to his father. He hangs on your every word and treats you like a god. It's thanks to you that he finally accepted his bisexuality. But he doesn't want to tell you that.

He first started feeling differently towards you when you started to become more physical with him. You often hold onto his shoulder with your strong hand or pull him out of the way by his waist and it drives him crazy. He so desperately wants to feel your hands on other parts of his body and vice versa. Your voice makes him weak in the knees and you sound especially attractive when you've found your prey. You're much older than him but he can't get rid of his feelings for you. He tries his best to be content with just having a crush.

After you two had dinner, you decided to drink with him. The two of you laughed and talked over a few cans of beer and deepened your relationship further.

“You ever been in a relationship, [Name]?” Dean asks, slightly tipsy.

“A few. I mostly slept around in my college years and experimented a bit with other hunters but in the end I decided to marry my job instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to marry someone I could tell everything to so I tried dating within my circle but none of the hunters seemed to click with me in the ways that really matter.”

“That makes sense…then you probably haven't…” He trails off.

“I probably haven't what?”

“Had sex…lately……”

You laugh. “No, I haven't. Honestly, I think getting laid would really help me. It's been a rough couple weeks.”

“I…” Dean gulps. “I could help with that….if you don't mind…….being with a guy..”

You look at him in surprise. “You're drunk.”

“I’ve only had two cans and a half…You know I don't get drunk that fast.”

You look at him differently, no longer with the eyes of a mentor. “You’ll bottom?”

Dean nods.

You smile in amusement. “I might be a little rough, can you handle that?”

He nods again, more enthusiastically this time.

“Come here.” You motion for him to come over to your side of the table. He stands in front of you. “Kneel.” You order. Dean immediately kneels, his cock steadily growing in size. You unbuckle your belt and pull down your underwear. Dean stares at your cock in awe, body heating up as he watches you jerk it to its true size.

“Fuck. You’re big.” He breathes out.

“Too big?”

“I can handle it.” He says, licking his lips.

“Attaboy.” You run your hands through his hair. Dean blushes. “Ever done this before?”

“Never..” His eyes are trained on your length.

“Is this your first time with a man?”

“Yeah…”

Your gaze changes. Dean shivers in arousal. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A long time…I’ve been…fingering myself, in case we….” He looks away.

You grin, turned on by the thought of that. “You'll have to show me that some day.”

Dean’s face gets redder.

“Now, let me see how you suck cock.”

He's so hard right now. He opens his mouth and slowly swallows your length. He makes a dragged out moan in pleasure as he feels your thickness enter him. Pre cum leaks out of his cock as he imagines how it’ll feel in his ass. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, mimicking his past girlfriends by simultaneously swirling his tongue around your shaft.

“Fuck–” You moan. “That's it– good boy.”

Words can't express how happy Dean gets when you praise him.

“You're better at this than I expected, baby.” You smile at his cuteness. He can't hide how pleased he is. “You like sucking dick, don't you? I never thought you’d be a cock slut, Dean.”

He moans. He’ll happily be your cock slut. He pulls away and licks your length in a very sexy way, gaining more confidence thanks to his elevated horniess. “I love your cock, sir.”

“Of course, you’re my cock slut.” You press your hand against his cheek. “Stand up and take your clothes off, I wanna use your other hole.”

Dean’s cock throbs even more. He stands up and quickly removes his clothes, shivering under your hungry and lustful gaze. You pat your lap and he quickly sits on top of you, your shafts pressed against each other.

You grope his ass. “I don’t have any lube..” You trail off, mesmerized by his soft butt.

“I already fingered myself earlier.” He smiles.

“Good boy.” You praise him. “Then spit’ll be enough. Say ‘ah’.” You bring two fingers into Dean’s mouth. He sucks on your fingers in the sluttiest way he can before you take them out and gently push one of your saliva covered fingers inside his soft hole. You give him a moment before adding the second, then you start to finger him.

Dean lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. “[Name]~” He arches his back and subconsciously thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against yours. “Your- yours feel so- fuck~” He groans. “So much better!”

You moan as well thanks to the sudden friction. You bring him into a sloppy kiss, the temperature between the two of you steadily rising. Dean pulls away first, more desperate for air, and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Don't stop– mm- gonna come~” He whimpers. Your fingers find his prostate, an immediate gasp of pleasure leaving Dean’s lips. He throws his head back. “There! Yes!” He moans, grinding against your cock even faster. The combination of his moans, his expression, and his cock against yours all contribute to bringing you to closer your orgasm.

Dean comes first, cum splattering over the two of you. Yours comes second thanks to the amazing look on Dean’s face.

“You're so fucking sexy, Dean, you know that?” You take your fingers out and knead his ass.

“I know.” He gives you a kiss. “I want you inside me.”

You lift Dean up and slowly lower him down on your cock. You both let out noises of pleasure as you penetrate him. He bites down on his lip, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his ass stretching to accommodate your girth. Once you bottom out, you give him time to get used to it. “Your cunt feels fucking amazing.” You groan. It's hard to hold yourself back but thankfully for you, Dean has no intention of waiting any longer. He places his hands on your shoulders and starts riding you. He quickly loses his momentum as the pleasure begins to overwhelm him. You help him out by grabbing his waist and doing the work for him, allowing Dean to fully enjoy himself.

He knew anal sex would feel good, especially because it's anal sex with you, but he never really had an idea of how good it’d feel until now. Now he's completely blissed out and only able to moan like a slut. It's especially thanks to your quick and rough speed that he's unable to think properly. You couldn't get yourself to go slower even if you tried. His ass just feels way too good.

“Your ass is perfect, Dean–” You groan. “So fucking good-” You hold him and stand up then gently place him on the table after clearing it of the empty cans. You rut into him like a monster, so horny that you feel like you could fuck him all night. You can never get enough of him.

Dean arches his back and shakes as ropes of cum spurt out of his dick. You know you should stop, or at least slow down, but you can't. “‘M sorry baby, fuck–” You moan, hanging your head low as you find your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside, okay? Gonna fill up your tight fucking cunt with my seed–”

Dean’s conscious enough to understand you. “Ye- yes!” He grins. He's been wanting to know what it feels like to get creampied. “Co- come inside!”

Encouraged by his words, you spill your cum into his warm and welcoming hole. Your thrusts come to a stop and the two of you start to catch your breaths.

“That…was so fucking good.” Dean says, leaning back.

[brynn-lear]

a/n: I won't be writing a oneshot about this since I already have a yan!capitano fic series I'm committing to, but I might randomly post about this idea more every now and then lol. tagging this AU as #the captain and his duchess

Yandere noble!Capitano who couldn't stop asking Fem Tutor!Darling to spar with him. With the weight of his inheritance, █████ must strive to be as great— if not greater— of a Captain like his father, the Duke.

But before he gained his infamous strength, you were his beloved mentor. You were a prodigy in swordsmanship with high confidence to boot. Hence, you gleefully accepted the Duke's request to tutor his eldest son. Coming from a minor noble household with only a title to uphold and not much else to boast, it's only natural to grasp unto that opportunity. It just so happened you've been clearing off competitions, and the duke has a good eye. Your parents, bless their souls, wouldn't dissuade you from your decision. Pride meant nothing when there's not even food scraps on the table. With a heart that still bleeds for the misfortune of those around you, you set off on horseback alone.

Whoever it was you were expecting to teach, it certainly wasn't a terrified noble hiding behind a helmet. Young █████ was not to blame. He carries the same dignified moral compass as his house, but he was ill-prepared to talk to people other than his family and servants. In fact, you couldn't get a word out of him as soon as you're done assessing his skill level with a first match.

Much to be desired, but the foundation is there.

... Perhaps you were too harsh with your phrasing.

"Young master," you shook your head, knocking on his door. "I couldn't teach you if you scamper about- hiding like meek prey in the closest room you'd burrow yourself in."

█████ didn't made a sound. You sighed. Truthfully, you wondered if you had done something to offend. It couldn't possibly be due to fear of authority. You're 21 and he's 19, not to mention that he is to be future sovereign Duke of Snezhnaya while you're not even reserved a seat in the council.

"F-Forgive him, Lady (Y/n)!" Elena squeaked. "He's not usually like this. I believe this is because..."

You raised an eyebrow. "Because...?"

The maid hurriedly shook her head, heat crawling up her neck. "N-No, I mustn't say. As a servant, I would step out of line."

"I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, you know?" You grinned. Skillfully, you placed a hand on the wall, leaning closer as if cornering her. You tucked the few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. "I'm not from this House, I wouldn't scold you for a little bit of sin."

She looked extremely offended. Suppose you should've expected that much from the most honorable Harbinger House's staff.

"I'm inclined to believe that this young maid's hypothesis requires no detective to solve."

You both looked to the direction of the voice. It was Prince Zandik, cousin to █████ and heir to the throne. Though to both of you, you are his most favorite gladiator and he is your best sponsor.

"Greetings, Zandik. You appear just about anywhere, huh? Are you sure you're not pulling my leg about the secret twin rumors?"

"Not one for tact, as always. But that's just how I like you, Lady (Y/n)."

Elena looked at you incredulously, wondering just where on earth did you find the audacity to refer to the Prince without proper decorum. Zandik doesn't seem sensitive to your lack of sensibility. You and Zandik have been friends since childhood was never a secret, but those who would recently find this resurfacing fact never fail to act surprised.

"I'd ask you why you're here, but the answer would be dull and overly verbose." You feigned a yawn, which made Zandik chuckle. "So, instead, why don't you tell me what you know about this █████ situation? Does he fear women?"

Zandik schooled his expression, but you can almost just about hear him say that's your best guess?

"█████ has never been one for sublime subtlety." Zandik rolled his eyes. "He admires you greatly, couldn't you tell?"

"Me? And greatly?" You scoffed. "Please, he'd outpace me with just a few lessons.

Zandik laughed. You both knew that to be true, but the future isn't quite as close to that prediction.

"Since the day I discreetly snatched him from his quarters to observe one of your sparring sessions, he has maintained a keen interest in tracking your career." The Prince remarked. "Do you recall the first bouquet of roses you've received?"

"I wasn't meant to be the recipient, do not reopen old wounds." You cringed. It was an unfortunate mistake from the messenger.

"Forgive me, I meant the second bouquet you received." He crossed his arms. "One from a secret admirer who curtly explained how he couldn't bear to see the sadness from your face and made it his honorable responsibility to buy you a larger bouquet."

You blinked.

"N-No way. I'm pretty sure that's from, um, my father."

"Buy you the most expensive bouquet in Snezhnaya? With what money?"

... A cruel but fair point.

"He even dons the same headwear as you do— the helmet he would rarely take off, did you not find it identical to your own?"

You paused.

... Wait a second.

"Well, I shall remove myself from this conversation. I have dull and overly verbose matters to attend to."

"Zandik, halt!"

[teapartyprincess4two]

heyy <3 I am absolutely in LOVE with your writing. I was wondering if you had ever written a 5+1 fic? I noticed that you like to write really lengthy fics with slow build ups which would be perfect for 5+1 style fics!!

I have a request if you would accept it ^^

5 times y/n denies having a crush on Matt (she's just oblivious to her feelings) and 1 time she didn't (when she finally realises)

or it could be the other way round and you could write in Matt's pov. whichever one is easier for you! (or u don't have to do this at all and just write a completely different 5+1 fic based on your own idea. I'm sure it will turn out perfect!)

In Denial- M. Sturniolo

pairing: PopularStudent!reader x Student!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warnings: slight angst, rejection, jealousy, use of y/n, slight cursing, childhood memories/flashbacks/setting, VERY VERY VERY slow build up, characters are in high school for a majority of the story

inspiration: request^^

summary: It’s hard to admit when you’re in love, especially when the person you love is so different from you. But, as they say, opposites attract.

—

“Are you guys inviting any friends from school?” The triplet’s mom, Marylou, asks as she mindlessly prepares the vegetables for her soup. Nick, Matt, and Chris were buzzing with excitement as they sat around the kitchen table with crafting supplies sprawled everywhere. The three of them were working towards creating invitations for their 10th birthday party. Ten was a big number because they’d finally be in the double digits so they had to make sure everything was just right. Most of the invitations were illegible and their mom would definitely have to redo them, but as long as it kept them occupied while she cooked she was happy.

“I’m going to invite Jackie,” Nick responds as he digs through his pen pouch for the perfect shade of purple. Most of Nick’s invitations had so many random doodles on them that you could barely see any of the words. “Oh Jackie’s nice,” Marylou murmurs, only half listening as she continues stirring away at the soup on the stove. She had to make sure it wouldn’t boil over.

“I like Carlos better so I’m inviting him,” Chris chimed in, his tongue poking out in concentration as he decorated his invitations with random scraps of craft paper. Chris’s invitations were covered in so much glue that every time he picked something up it stuck completely to his hand. “That’s so mean, Chris!” Nick responds in a whiny voice which puts a smirk on Chris’s face. Chris actually liked Jackie too because she was a good friend and sometimes she did his homework for him, but he also liked annoying his brother. The two were about to break out into an argument, but were swiftly checked by a stern look from their mother.

Matt was too immersed in creating the perfect invitation for you to care about the conversation surrounding him. He worked diligently to ensure that it was legible and nicely decorated, ensuring to include doodles of things he knew you liked. Once the other two calmed down, Marylou turned towards Matt and asked, “Who are you inviting, honey?” Truth be told, Matt was inviting a lot of people from his class, but he really only cared if you showed up. If it was only you and him at this birthday party he’d be the happiest ten year old on Earth.

“Probably just Jason,” Matt replies nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. This answer seems to satisfy his mom because she doesn’t ask any further questions and immediately returns to the pot on the stove. Nick and Chris, on the other hand, hear this and immediately jump at the opportunity to expose his crush for you to their mom. “He’s probably inviting y/n,” Chris snickers as he pokes Matt’s sides teasingly, his sticky fingers gripping Matt’s t-shirt in the process.

“No I’m not, Chris. Shut up,” Matt replies as he pushes his brother’s hands away from him aggressively. This was his favorite shirt and Chris was getting his gross glue hands all over it. Nick laughs at this, making kissy faces towards Matt to annoy him. “Matt and y/n sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Chris and Nick sing loudly, both of them working hard towards pushing Matt past his breaking point. At this point Matt’s face is burning hot and red from embarrassment.

You were a new student in their class who moved to Boston from out of state. For whatever reason you were placed in their class and seated right next to Matt, the only available seat left in the entire classroom. From that moment on Matt’s been absolutely obsessed with you, but he didn’t need his mom to know that.

“Who’s y/n?” Marylou asks, true curiosity in her voice. She was now facing the three boys, providing them with her full attention and turning the stove off for safe measure. “Oh just Matt’s GIRLFRIEND!” Chris screams, once again poking at Matt’s sides. “I love y/n soooo much. She smells soooo good and has the prettiest smile,” Nick quotes as he gazes dramatically into the distance and pretends to swoon. Their mom is amused with their antics, but is mostly curious to learn more about the girl who has her most timid son so ‘in love.’

“I never said that, you idiot!” Matt retaliates, pushing Chris off of him and standing up abruptly from the kitchen table to make his way towards Nick and push him too. The table shook in the process causing some of the markers to roll onto the floor. Matt was beginning to get genuinely upset from the pure embarrassment that he felt. “Then why do you guys always play alone at recess!” Chris rebuttals, feeling as if he had just won the greatest argument of his life.

“Just admit you like her, Matty!” Nick chimes in, throwing his nickname in there to further push his buttons. Matt is furious at his brothers, but he doesn’t understand why if everything they’re saying was true. He did have a crush on you, you did smell good and you did have a pretty smile.

“Boys that’s enough!” Marylou steps in to Matt’s defense, earning both Nick and Chris a smack upside the head. Nick and Chris yelp in pain, rubbing their heads to alleviate some of the pain. “You guys are so annoying!” Matt says one last time before grabbing his invitations and storming off to their shared room.

The kitchen is silent after that, both Nick and Chris realizing that they had taken it too far. Marylou is more than displeased with the outcome of her sons’ teasing, but she understood that it came with the territory of having triplets. “You two need to apologize,” she says sternly, giving both Nick and Chris a disapproving look. The two boys didn’t understand why they had to apologize, they were just telling the truth plus everyone in your class knew about Matt’s crush on you.

“But he called me an idiot…” Nick grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in his seat. This earned them both another smack upside the head.

—

Matt didn’t end up handing you the invitation himself, too embarrassed to be caught alone with you again by his brothers. Instead he instructed Nick to do it because over the course of your time in Boston, you and Nick had become very close. Matt was a bit jealous of this, but he never showed it.

“Why don’t you just give it to her?” Nick asked, continuing his walk towards the playground. Their class was currently at recess and there was only 15 minutes left, if Nick wanted to have a turn on the swings he couldn’t slow down now, not even for Matt’s sake. “Because you’re her friend!” Matt replied as he followed closely behind Nick, his feet pushing against the wood chips of the playground as he struggled to keep up.

“You’re her friend too! Plus you sit right next to her!” Nick was not backing down, especially because he did not like doing favors. His pace didn’t slow either, he needed to get at least 5 minutes on the swing before he was ready to go back to class. “Just do it please,” Matt pleaded, fully expecting his brother to deny his request and force him to give you the invitation himself. Nick’s mind lit up with an idea, he’d only agree to give you the invitation if Matt agreed to push him on the swing, “Ugh! Fine, but you have to push me.”

“I’m not pushing you, Nick,” Matt responded matter of factly. Matt didn’t want to spend his last 15 minutes of freedom pushing Nick on the swings, he wanted to rush back to Chris on the field as quick as possible so he could race him. “Okay, that’s fine. You can give her the invitation yourself then,” Nick said as he finally arrived to the swing set, taking a seat on the warm plastic.

Matt looked between Nick and the field, desperately trying to figure out if this was worth not beating Chris in a race. “Your choice, Matt,” Nick’s voice was taunting, almost like he was telling Matt that if he didn’t do this one thing his entire life would be ruined. Matt sighed, deciding that if you didn’t get this invitation his life would, in fact, be ruined. So, he decided that he’d just have to race Chris another day and he stood behind Nick, pushing him reluctantly.

Nick ended up giving you the invitation later that day, pretending like it was his idea to invite you. When you realized it was your first invitation to a party in Boston you couldn’t contain your excitement. Nick felt like your first true friend here and you couldn’t wait to see your friendship blossom. Nick, of course, was excited for you to come too, but no one was more excited than Matt.

“I gave your girlfriend the invitation by the way,” Nick commented to Matt as they walked home from school. Matt perked up at this, becoming excited at the prospect of you coming to their house. “Not my girlfriend,” he responded in a feign tone of annoyance that completely contrasted the excitement he felt bubbling inside.

“Whatever you say,” Nick huffed, shrugging his shoulders and pulling his backpack up by the straps. Nick picked up his pace to catch up with Chris who was already down the street. When Nick’s back was fully towards him, Matt couldn’t help but smile. He really couldn’t wait to turn 10.

—

10 came and went and before they knew it, the triplets were 14 and nearing the end of middle school. The friendships they made in elementary didn’t seem as important anymore, only a few friends remaining a part of their immediate friend group. You were one of those friends seeing as you and Nick only became closer over the years.

You spent countless nights texting and talking over the phone with Nick gossiping about people in your grade and fangirling over the latest teen heartthrob. One of the solidifying moments in your friendship was when Nick came out to you as gay. It was a moment that bonded you two and you’ve been inseparable since. Because you two are so close, you would often go over to their house to work on homework, study, or just to hang out.

“Mom, can y/n come over today?” Nick asks his mom, praying that she’ll just say yes so he can rush up to his room and text you to come over. “Sure,” Marylou replies nonchalantly. You were always over and she had become accustomed to your presence. She liked that you were respectful and you seemed to be a good influence on her kids.

Nick immediately rushed upstairs to relay the news to you over text, but bumped into Matt on the way to his room. “Watch it, dumbass,” Matt huffed, stumbling backwards a bit from the force in which Nick ran into him. “Sorry,” Nick apologized quickly, moving past Matt to continue the walk to his room. From the way Nick was acting Matt knew that you were probably coming over, he always got super excited when you were coming over.

Matt turned on his heel, following Nick into his room just to make sure his suspicions were correct. “Why are you so excited?” Matt asks, leaning on the door frame as he watches Nick type away on his phone. “None of your business,” Nick replies, laying on his bed as he continues to text you.

The both of you are going over your plans for the night in excruciating detail, discussing every thing beforehand so that you wouldn’t waste time once you arrived. “Is y/n coming over?” Matt asks again, a part of him knows the answer but he’s still itching to know. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” this time it’s Chris who speaks as he enters the room and sits in Nick’s desk chair.

Chris always had the tendency to show up out of nowhere, especially in moments when he could potentially annoy his brothers. It was like his brother senses tingled every time the perfect opportunity to bully his brothers appeared. A smirk is already plastered on Chris’s face because he knows that Matt’s crush on you has only grown over the years. “Whatever,” Matt replies already annoyed with Chris, waving his brother off and pushing himself off the door frame. He leaves the room and returns back downstairs to do whatever he was planning to do in the first place.

As he makes his way downstairs, Nick calls out to him from his room in a sing-song tone, “Y/n is coming Matt!” This immediately puts a smile Matt’s face. Even if we wasn’t going to spend one on one time with you, he was content with the fact that you'd be in his house.

"He's totally in love with her," Chris snickers, twirling around in Nick's desk chair. Nick hated the thought of Matt being in love with you, his bestfriend. "That's so gross," Nick replies, but even he knew it was true.

—

When you finally arrived to their house 20 minutes later, Nick was already outside waiting for you. “Bye mom!” You said, hopping off the car and waving goodbye to your mom as you ran up to Nick. He was sitting on the front porch, patiently awaiting your arrival. You two had so much planned for the night and if you played your cards right you might even be able to have a sleepover!

“Hurry, y/n! Time is ticking!” Nick called out as he watched you quicken your pace to make your way to the front porch. You were carrying a large tote bag filled to the brim with magazines, crafting supplies, board games, and a pair of pajamas in case you were allowed to stay the night. “I’m hurrying!” You replied, adjusting your heavy tote bag against your shoulder

Finally you two made your way inside, where Matt and Chris were playing video games on the living room. Chris was locked into the game, but Matt was only half immersed in the game on the screen. He was waiting for you to walk through the front door so he could greet you in the most casual, cool way possible.

“Hi guys!” You greeted, offering the two boys a small wave before rushing upstairs to Nick’s room. “Hey y/n,” Chris replied casually, too occupied with his game to fully acknowledge you. Chris was used to you always being at their house, so he didn’t get excited anymore when Nick announced you were coming over. “Hi y/n!” Matt greets you, sounding a little too excited causing his voice to crack slightly.

When Chris hears this he immediately pauses the game to look at Matt. “Hi y/n!” Chris mimicked Matt’s voice crack, exaggerating it so every syllable contained a higher octave than the last. Matt pushed Chris slightly by the shoulder, unpausing the game to avoid diving deeper into this topic, “Shut up, let’s just play.”

Chris wasn’t having it though, he quickly pauses the game again before saying, “just admit you like her, bro.” It was so much easier said than done, if he admitted his feelings for you there was always the possibility that you didn’t feel the same way or that you’d find it weird, or both. “I don’t like her,” Matt grumbles, unpausing the game once again.

Chris doesn’t miss a beat, quickly pausing the game for the third time since you had arrived. “You do like her!” Chris teases, poking his brother’s side like he always does when he wants to annoy him. Matt wasn’t annoyed anymore, but he was upset. “I DONT LIKE HER, YOU IDIOT! I COULD NEVER LIKE HER!” He shouts, shoving Chris off of him and standing up from his seat. He storms off into his room, forgetting completely about the game and that his sudden outburst could probably be heard by you.

“Geez, what a sore loser,” Chris mumbles, unpausing the game and continuing the onscreen quest. Unbeknownst to them, you were going downstairs to grab a snack and had heard the whole thing. Your heart shattered at Matt’s words. You had never thought about Matt in that way before, but for some reason when you heard him say he could NEVER like you it hurt worse that anything you’d ever felt.

You didn’t even descend all the way downstairs for your snack, instead you returned to Nick’s room and informed him that you weren’t up for a sleepover anymore.

—

Before the four of you knew it, you were freshmen in high school and although you all became a part of different friend groups, you still remained close. Everyone in your school grew to love you, causing you to become really popular really fast. Both you and Nick were friends with everyone including freshmen and upperclassmen. Plus you joined as many extracurriculars and clubs as possible which opened the door to many new friendships.

“No we can’t hang out that day, we have art club,” you told Nick, as the both of you worked hard to schedule a time and date to hang out outside of school. You were both currently in the library enjoying the down time study hall granted you. “What about Wednesday?” He asks, flipping through his school planner to try and find an available date for the two of you.

“Nope. NHS meeting,” you reply, pointing to the Wednesday in question where ‘NHS MEETING 4:45PM’ was highlighted in bright yellow on the top of the page. “Oh right. What about Friday?” Nick asks again, hoping that you two will finally be able to hang out. Ever since entering high school it was like you guys never had time to just be friends because you were both too busy with your after school activities to hang out.

“Friday might work, I just have to work concessions during 8th period. You can meet me there after class?” You say, examining your planner thoroughly to make sure you weren’t misinforming him. “Okay, I’ll walk over there and then we can meet Matt and Chris in the parking lot,” he informs you, gathering his things to shove them back into his backpack. You do the same thing before replying, “I thought your mom would pick us up?”

The bell rings, signifying that the period was over and it was time to walk to your next class. You both stand from the table, slinging your backpacks over your shoulders before making your way out of the library. “She was, but Matt’s getting his learners permit,” he replies, pushing the library door open for you to walk through before following closely behind. You hum in response before offering Nick a side hug and parting ways, both of you heading to your next class.

On your way to class you catch sight of Matt and Chris, they’re leaned against their lockers having a conversation. Matt’s back is to you so Chris is the only one who notices you. “Y/n!” Chris shouts excitedly through the hall, ushering you over to them with his hands. You light up with a smile, hurriedly making your way over to your friends.

“What class do you have next?” Chris asks once you’re close enough to where he doesn’t have to shout. Matt is avoiding eye contact with his head hung low, he didn’t even greet you and you were standing right next to him. You tried not to let it bother you.

“I have math,” you reply, offering Chris a quick hug. It was normal for you to hug your friends, especially friends that you knew for so long, but you were never able to get to that point with Matt. He always got super awkward about it, so after a while you just stopped hugging him altogether. “Oh cool! I think my class is next to yours,” Chris replies, looking expectantly at his brother who was still looking at the floor. All Chris wanted to do was shake his brother by the shoulders and yell at him to at least acknowledge you.

“We can walk together?” You ask Chris hesitantly, not wanting him to feel forced to leave his previous conversation with Matt. The bell was about to ring soon anyways so he quickly dismisses himself from Matt before joining you on your walk to class. Matt’s about to do the same thing, but he’s stopped by his old friend Jason.

“Chris stole your girl, huh?” Jason jokes, slinging an arm over Matt’s shoulder as the both of them watch you and Chris disappear down the hallway and into the crowd of students. “She’s not my girl,” Matt huffs, shrugging Jason’s arm off his shoulder aggressively. “Well she’s gonna be someone’s girl soon if you don’t step up,” Jason replies, only half joking.

You were one of the prettiest girls in school and every boy was dying at a chance with you, Matt knew this and it made his blood boil. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being someone else’s ‘girl,’ but you were so popular now that he didn’t know where he fit in with you. Jason’s comment bothered him more than he’d like to admit, but he waved him off and made his way to class.

After school Nick waited for you at the concession stand just like he promised. Since you knew he was going to be waiting for you, you snuck a frito pie for him. You even got two sodas, one for you and one for Chris, and a pack of Matt’s favorite candy. “For you, sir,” you greeted Nick in a posh accent, handing him the Frito Pie as you two started walking towards the parking lot where Chris and Matt were. “Why thank you,” he replied, doing the same posh accent as you before stirring the frito pie so that the chili and cheese were evenly coating the frito chips.

You two made light conversation as you weaved your way through the cars of the parking lot in search of Chris and Matt. The both of you said goodbye to friends as you passed them, hugging a few of them and wishing them a good weekend. Matt was watching you from his car, leaned against the trunk. Chris was standing next to him mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“Bye Jason, have a good weekend,” you called out, waving goodbye to your friend as you and Nick continued to make your way towards the car. This made Matt’s jaw clench as he recalled what Jason had said to him earlier, ‘she’s gonna be someone’s girl soon if you don’t step up.’ Matt wondered if that was Jason’s way of saying that he was going to make a move on you if Matt didn’t do it first.

When you and Nick finally approached the car you immediately handed both Matt and Chris the snack you brought for them. “What’s this for?” Matt asks, gingerly taking the candy from you. He noticed it was his favorite and thought that maybe you chose it on purpose, but he decided it must’ve been a coincidence. “Just to be nice and for giving me a ride,” you smiled at him, handing Chris his soda in the process.

Matt was about to thank you, but Chris interrupted him by cracking his soda open and immediately chugging it. This was followed by loud burps which made the rest of you laugh. “You’re welcome, by the way,” you say sarcastically towards Matt and Chris. Chris ignores you, walking towards the passenger seat to join Nick who’s already waiting in the car. “Thank you,” Matt says shyly, a blush creeping onto his face.

Matt turns to join his brothers in the car as you say, “you’d think you have a crush on me with the way you’re blushing.” He stops dead in his tracks, going stiff as a board. Had he been caught? Was he that obvious? “Jeez, Matt I’m kidding,” you chuckle jokingly, patting his back to ease his nerves. He shies away from you, not wanting to go into a state of shock from your mere touch.

You notice the way he avoids you and it breaks your heart. Was he really this repulsed by you? The only words ringing through your mind were the ones you heard that day in middle school, ‘I COULD NEVER LIKE HER.’

“Ease up, Matt. I was joking,” this time you say it seriously and decide to just get in the car. “Oh, yeah sorry,” Matt felt like an idiot, but so did you.

—

High school was a blur for you, filled with countless memories and so many new friendships. You were now in your senior year and busier than ever as you juggled school, a social life and work. You, Nick and Chris remained close and over time you warmed up to Matt again, deciding to put his comments and actions towards you in the past.

Prom was just around the corner and after that was graduation. The four of you were excited, but didn’t know what direction life would take you in. You’re currently sitting with Chris, Nick, and Matt at lunch discussing all the plans you have for the remainder of your senior year.

“Who are you going to prom with, Y/n?” Nick asks as he pops a fry in his mouth and wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. You scoff and roll your eyes in response. So many boys had asked you to prom at this point that you were debating on not even going at all, but Nick insisted on you being there. “Probably just you guys,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Chris and Matt were listening intently to the conversation, Chris was waiting for the perfect moment to interject.

“So boring,” Nick says dramatically, he felt like you had to take advantage of the wide range of options you had. You could pick any boy to go to prom with and here you were choosing to go with a group of friends. Matt, on the other hand, was relieved with your answer, happy that no one would get to claim you as their prom date. Maybe by the time prom finally rolled around he’d grow the courage to ask you to be his date and finally admit his feelings for you.

“I heard Jason say he might ask you,” Chris mentions casually, stealing a fry from Nick’s tray and popping it in his mouth. Nick slaps his hand away and shoots him a glare. You scrunch your face in disgust at the idea of going to prom with Jason. Sure he was cute and nice, but he was a football player and he was known for leading girls on, plus he’s had at least 8 girlfriends since freshman year. Matt’s also disgusted by the idea because he can’t imagine you going to prom with anyone other than him, especially not Jason.

“I thought he was dating Katrina,” Matt chimes in, attempting to shake the thought of you and Jason out of his mind. What if you did end up going with him to prom? What if Jason ends up pulling something weird? What if he tried kissing you?!? Matt’s mind was racing and he felt himself growing more and more upset at the idea.

“Apparently they broke up,” Chris shrugs, trying to steal yet another fry off Nick’s tray. “Oh yeah, Katrina told me about it yesterday in 3rd period. She seems sad,” Nick informs you all, only confirming the promposal rumor Chris had just dropped on you guys. “Poor girl,” you mumbled, picking mindlessly at the food in front of you. If Jason asked you to prom you’d feel almost obligated to say yes considering he was one of your oldest friends and he’d surely make a spectacle of it.

There was only one person you wanted to go to prom with, but he was too oblivious to realize it. “There’s only one person I would go to prom with,” you say quietly, your gaze landing on Matt and staying there for a little too long. He doesn’t notice though, too caught up in your words to look up. ‘Does she want to go to prom with Jason?’ he thought, the anger bubbling up inside him like a volcano about to erupt.

Suddenly he felt overwhelmed by the situation, grabbing his tray and standing from the lunch table abruptly. The rest of you stared in shock at his sudden actions, wondering what had gotten into him. He was always the type to evacuate a situation as soon as it became too much for him to handle. “Um, I have to get to class,” he grumbled, walking away and throwing his tray away in a nearby trash can aggressively.

“Geez what’s his problem,” Nick scoffs dramatically as he watches his brother disappear out of the cafeteria. “He’s just a nerd,” Chris responds with a chuckle, not putting too much importance in Matt’s actions. Instead he used this moment to sneak as many of Nick’s fries as possible. You sat there in silence, a wave of sadness washing over your body as you realized lunch was nowhere near over.

Prom was getting closer and unfortunately for Matt, Jason ended up asking you to be his date before he could muster up the courage to. Jason’s sentiment was very sweet; he decorated a huge poster, held a bouquet of flowers, and even had a speaker playing some sappy love song. Because he’d made such a big scene of his promposal you felt obligated to say yes. The whole school was watching, many of the students commenting on how you were going to be the power couple of the year.

Matt was in the crowd and had seen the whole thing, he was horrified, angry, and jealous. He actually wanted to ask you that day, he didn’t know how he’d do it, but he knew he’d do it. Matt had even bought you a rose to accompany his promposal. He felt slightly pathetic as he stood there holding his singular rose, watching as Jason held an entire bouquet for you. Chris, who was standing next to Matt, offered him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the back. Nothing would make Matt feel better. “Sorry bro,” Chris says sympathetically, offering Matt yet another sad smile. “Whatever, not like I like her anyways,” Matt grumbles, at this point it was like he was trying to convince himself.

—

“Are you excited?!” Nick asks, waiting for you to appear from inside the dressing room. You’re currently trying prom dresses on at the mall, trying to find the perfect dress. You check yourself out in the mirror, smoothing the dress out and adjusting the straps slightly before replying, “eh kinda.”

“What?! How are you only KINDA excited?! You’re going to prom with Jason!” He exclaims, sitting forward in his seat as if you could see him through the dressing room curtains. You were excited to go to prom and if you would’ve had it your way you would’ve just gone with a group of friends, seeing as Matt never asked you. But being pressured into doing things you don’t want to do comes with the territory of being popular.

“He’s just Jason,” you shrug, finally opening the curtain and doing a silly, dramatic pose for Nick. “What do you think?” You ask, twirling so he can get a full look at the dress. You could always trust Nick to be honest with you, especially when it came to fashion. “It’s cute, but it’s the wrong color,” he replies, you nod in agreement and retreat back into the dressing room to try on a different dress.

“Also, he’s not ‘just’ Jason. He’s quite literally the star quarterback AND the hottest guy in school,” Nick says, using his fingers to do air quotes around ‘just.’ You pull another dress on, zipping it up haphazardly before opening the curtain once again and walking out of the dressing room.

You motion towards the dress, silently asking Nick what his opinion about it is. “Too short,” he says, earning a groan from you. You trudge back into the dressing room, closing the curtain dramatically in the process. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to go to prom with Jason?” Nick asks because he’s almost certain there’s an underlying secret reason he doesn’t know about.

You sigh, jumping as you struggle to pull on the last dress. “I was hoping someone else would ask me,” you admit, being completely vulnerable and honest with your best friend. This was news to Nick, as far as he knew you weren’t interested in anyone at school. “WHAT?! Who is it?!?! Do I know him?!” He asks excitedly, wanting nothing more than for you to spill the beans and tell him who you were secretly crushing on.

“Yeah, you know him,” you respond, adjusting the strap on the dress you were currently trying on. Finally you fix it and take one last look in the mirror before opening the curtain and showing Nick the dress. His mouth goes agape, this was the perfect dress for you. “Girl, that’s the one,” he says, taking in all the small details of the dress and how they complemented you perfectly.

“You really think?” You ask, looking at yourself in the dressing room mirror again just to make sure he’s not lying. It did look good on you and the color was really nice. “Yes! Now tell me who your crush is!” He’s quick to dismiss you, too eager to find out who you’re crushing on. This causes you to roll your eyes, but he’s being so loud that you have to hold back your laughter as you hold onto him and shush him. “Nick you’re so loud!” You whisper through laughter, trying to keep your own voice down so you don’t get kicked out.

“Don’t shush me, woman!” He replies dramatically, earning you both a couple of stares from the surrounding customers. You continue laughing, going back into the dressing room to change so you can take the dress to the front counter and pay.

As you do this, Nick is on the other side of the curtain trying to guess who your crush is. He begins listing the names of all of boys in your class. He lists every person he can think of before giving up. “You’re never gonna guess it,” you say in a sing song tone as you exit the dressing room, dress in hand.

“The only people I didn’t say are Chris and Matt,” he scoffs, he feels almost 100% sure that you’d never have a crush on either of his brothers. You don’t say anything, instead walking in front of him so he can’t see the blush forming on your face. “Oh my god! You like one of my brothers!” He exclaims in realization, somewhat grossed out at the thought of it.

“Never said that,” you reply, reaching the cashier and plopping the dress on the counter. The cashier cashes you out, placing the dress in a bag for you. “You never denied it,” he replies. As long as he didn’t guess which brother you’d be fine.

Nick is thinking long and hard, trying to figure out which of his brothers you have a crush on. ‘It can’t be Chris,’ he thought. You and Chris had always been close, but never close enough to raise any suspicion of a crush. Plus Chris was always doing weird gross stuff around you that he only ever did around Nick and Matt. ‘Maybe it’s Matt,’ Nick’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t realize that you guys are now in the food court. You and Matt always had a slightly awkward relationship, but Matt did have a crush on you since forever so maybe you returned the feelings.

“It’s Matt,” Nick states simply, both of you now waiting in line for Chinese food. You go stiff, how had he guessed it so fast? It was a 50/50 chance and he guess correct on the first try. He watched you and noticed your change in body language, realizing that he was right. “It’s Matt!” He exclaims, he feels like he just won the grand prize on a game show.

“Quiet down!” You whisper shout, looking around the food court to ensure that no one from school was lurking around. If word got out that you had a crush on Matt it would travel around the school like wildfire, especially if you were going to prom with someone else. “So I’m right?!” He’s still yelling, he can’t help it he’s excited and also grossed out. Nick’s going through so many emotions right now thinking about his best friend and his brother having secret feelings for each other.

“Yes, now shut up,” you grumble, moving forward in the line. “That’s so cute! But also so disgusting,” he comments with a chuckle and a fake gag, earning an eye roll from you.

—

Finally it was the long awaited day of prom. You took an extra hour on your hair and makeup than usual and your mom steamed all the wrinkles out of your dress. Everything had to be perfect because once you walked into that venue with Jason all eyes would be on you.

Jason picked you up an hour before the event started, walking you to his car carefully and politely. This drive to the venue felt so impersonal and awkward that you kind of wished you had rejected his promposal. If you were with your friends you wouldn’t feel this way.

The two of you walked into the venue hand in hand and even if you were nervous, you held your head high in confidence. You greeted so many people on the way in that it felt like you were on the red carpet and everyone wanted your attention. The two of you made your way to a table and situated yourselves before the real party began.

As soon as the dancing started Jason disappeared somewhere with his friends, but you didn’t mind because it gave you time to look for your friends too. You must’ve lapped around that building 10 times before giving up, you couldn’t find a single person worth talking to that wasn’t already busy or just plain missing. Nick was nowhere to be found, Chris was dancing with his date and you didn’t even know if Matt was here or not.

You made your way back to your table, slumping in your seat a little. You felt so alone. From the corner of your eye you noticed Jason making his way towards you, you silently hoped he’d at least ask you to dance so you wouldn’t be so bored. What he actually says catches you by surprise, “Hey, Katrina asked me to dance. Is that okay?” You were taken aback, was he really asking his prom date if he could dance with his ex?

“Katrina? As in your ex Katrina?” You asked, bewilderment evident on your face and in your voice. He doesn’t say anything, instead he just nods and walks away in whatever direction Katrina is. You sit there in shock, had you just been ditched at prom? “Fuck this,” you whisper to yourself as you grab your purse and walk out of the venue.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, how had this become your prom night? As you make your way out of the venue you feel all eyes on you and the tears begin to brim at your eyes. Finally you’re outside and you sit on a nearby bench, not noticing that Matt was already sitting there. As soon as you feel like no one is watching, you let the tears flow.

Matt recognizes your sniffles and immediately looks up from the ground to find you sitting next to him crying. He was out here to avoid seeing you with Jason. “Y/n?” He asks softly, leaning forward to check if it was actually you or not. You jump at the sound of your name and work to wipe your tears away as quickly as possible. The last thing you needed was people knowing you were crying at prom.

You lift your gaze slowly to see who had caught you crying only to find Matt. He’s offering you a small, sad smile and opens his arms to engulf you in a hug. You don’t second guess it, you just fall into his arms and let the tears flow again. Finally, after such a lonely night, you’re in the arms of someone familiar.

“It’s okay,” he whispers repeatedly into your hair as he rubs your back in an attempt to calm you down. Usually Matt wouldn’t allow himself to be this close with you, he always let his nerves get the best of him before he could get too comfortable. His soothing seems to work because your breathing steadies and you pull away from him with one last sniffle.

“Sorry,” you whisper, wiping away the stray tears. Your makeup was definitely messed up at this point, but you tried not to dwell on that thought too long. “It’s okay,” he repeats for what seems like the 100th time that night before asking you what happened.

You explain the whole situation to him, taking him through the emotional rollercoaster you had just been on. By the end of your story, he’s so mad. How could Jason toss you to the side so easily? “You deserve better than that,” he says, both in an attempt to make you feel better and to reassure himself that he would never treat you that way. You hum in response, not sure what to respond to such a vague statement. I mean, it seemed like the typical thing to say in a situation like this.

“I would never do that to you,” Matt says, but it comes out as an almost inaudible whisper. If you two weren’t sitting so close you would have missed it, but you still have to be sure that he actually said that. “What?” You ask, now it’s your turn to lean forward and look at his face. You’re trying to read his expression so you can figure out what he meant by that.

“I would never do that to you,” he repeats it louder this time. His tone is firm and confident because for the first time since he was ten years old he isn’t doubting his feelings for you. “Matt, what are you saying?” you ask, still unsure if he’s aware of what he’s saying right now. Maybe someone spiked the punch and he was drunk right now because the Matt you knew would never be so bold.

Seeing you cry was his last straw, his push to finally tell you how in love with you he was, “I’m saying that I would never do that to you. I would never mistreat you, I would love you and take care of you for forever if I could.” When you hear this, the butterflies in your stomach begin going crazy and if you don’t ground yourself now you might just throw up from excitement. Just when you think he’s done, he continues, “Y/n, I’ve loved you since we were ten years old when you walked into that classroom and sat next to me. I’ve just been too in denial to admit it until now.”

You don’t respond because you’re still registering everything and it’s driving Matt crazy. Had he just messed everything up? “You don’t have to say anything,” he attempts to backtrack, his mind racing with the thought of you being disgusted with his confession. He wishes he could read your mind and control time because if you didn’t feel the same way he could just rewind time and take it all back. Fortunately for him, you were internally jumping for joy.

He’s about to stand up and walk away like he always does when a situation becomes too uncomfortable, but he’s stopped by your hand on his shoulder. “I wish you would’ve said something sooner,” you say with a slight chuckle, the world’s biggest and brightest smile plastered on your face. Matt lets out a sigh of relief, immediately taking you face in his hands and doing the unthinkable.

His lips are on yours before he can stop himself, but, to his surprise, you kiss him back almost immediately. In that moment you felt every cliche take over your body; fireworks, sparks, butterflies, everything.

“I’ve loved you too,” you whisper when you two finally break away. This was the beginning of something beautiful.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: thank you for this request, it was so much fun to write! I hope it was what you were looking for & that you enjoy!!! Also, because you asked for a 5 in 1, I made this much longer than expected haha. I’m working on a few other stories/ requests, but if you guys are looking for something in particular feel free to ask! K byeee

- L.A.M.B 👼🏻💗

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part eight

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

TW: Murder. Non-Con.

series masterlist |

"If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary You and I go from one kiss to gettin married." - loml, Taylor Swift.

(TARGARYEN RESIDENCE. 2008)

It was a hail mary from the beginning. Two people who had everything to lose, plotting to have more than they could handle. "She must've known." Alicent breathes, playing with the rosary-styled bracelet on her left wrist. "- I told you not to cheap out on the assassins. We'll get the money back anyways." she scolded.

Her grip on the bracelet tightened. Viserys' took a deep breath.

"I did not hire mediocre mercenaries. It was a recommendation from the goddamn Governor of Texas. If you're searching for good mercenaries, you're not gonna find them because people who kill people for a living don't have a moral compass." he gritted his teeth. His anger doubling at every second he spent in his wife's presence.

"I couldn't care less about their moral compass. You should've hired someone who had a follow through." she hissed, glaring at him. "I'm sorry but I'm not the one who wanted Olivia L/N dead." he groaned, standing up and attempting to exit the door.

She stares at the side, the sight of a crucifix snapping her back into reality. "I don't like the role that you're giving me, Viserys." her voice cracked, her fingers dancing along every bead. Along every Hail Mary. Her breath hitched for a second.

Fearing the person that she's become.

He made her this way. He manipulated her, made her believe that the love that they shared was true. He made her fight for every scrap of his love. He made her a monster. Now, she was finally thirty, fifteen would never cross her mind. "You're the one who wanted to give your children part of Aemma's company. I was following your wishes." he tried to flip the table at her.

Our children. She wanted to correct him.

It might've been her idea, but he didn't give her a choice. Her children would live in poverty without the money that Aemma provided. Alicent didn't have a job. She didn't even finish High School, and it was obvious that Viserys wasn't going to be around for long.

"Don't worry about Olivia. She doesn't have the guts to sue us. I hope that you learn to be content with what you've been provided. Not everything has to be handed on a silver spoon." Viserys remarked.

Aemond breathes. "They're fighting again." he spoke through the landline. Fighting was a normal occurrence in the Targaryen Household, it was always about the inheritance.

"Mom ought to accept that the old man isn't gonna leave us a single dime." Aegon chuckled. His older brother long accepted the fact that Viserys hated all his children from his second-marriage.

"- Rhaenyra has always been the golden child. I don't know why we bother." he added with an eye-roll.

Aemond pressed his lips closer to the microphone. "Dad hired someone to kill Aunt Olivia." he dropped the bomb, and the other line answered with silence. "- Mom figured that if Aunt Olivia died, then all the shares would go to Dad, and there'll be enough for us." he whispered, careful not to be heard.

"He'd rather have someone murdered than give us a tiny piece of Rhaenyra's billion dollar inheritance? I study in New York. I should kill Aunt Olive, make Mom proud for once." his lips pressed into a thin line, seriously considering that random thought.

The younger brother responds with a chuckle.

"You won't do that Aegon. You're not actually a murderer." he laughed, thinking that it was his older brother's way of making a joke. Aegon licks his lips. Right, not a murderer.

OLIVIA L/N FOUND DEAD IN AN NYC APARTMENT WITH NO CURRENT SUSPECTS, POLICE SOURCES SAY.

NEW YORK -- Police sources are revealing more details about a murder in Manhattan. They say that the New York City Police Department is currently conducting investigations about possible motives for the crime.

It happened in Upper Manhattan, sources say that the first person that found the body was Ms. Olivia L/N's daughter, then a neighbor that chooses to remain anonymous.

Olivia L/N is the co-founder of Dragonpine Brewery, which has now expanded into different industries including real estate, technology, and pharmaceuticals. She currently owns 49% of Dragonpine Brewery, but all shares are expected to return to Viserys Targaryen, who too, owns 49% of the company.

The medical examiner ruled her death a homicide due to the blunt force trauma to the head, and stab wounds on her stomach.

Anyone with any information is asked to call the NYPD's Crime Stoppers hotline at 1-***-***-TIPS. ALL CALLS ARE KEPT CONFIDENTIAL.

(PRESENT)

Daemon couldn't stop pacing and forth. Luckily, the bullet didn't hit anything important. You could still use your ankle normally in the future, but it would take time to heal.

"It's a medical miracle. It's the first time I've seen it happen." he remarks, trying to calm himself down.

The entire thing was difficult to process. He found it hard to believe that Aemond suddenly lost all semblance of normalcy and broke. "The gun wasn't registered. He could face charges, unless Alicent drives by with her golden chariot and bribes the judge again." he rolled his eyes, unwilling to let his nephew live scot-free.

"I told her about Aemond's past, the case with the girl and Nick. She could've confronted him about it, brought memories that he couldn't handle. He could've been guilty." Rhaenyra suggested, shaking her head. "Where is he?" Daemon's eyes narrowed.

He peeked through the halls, searching for his nephew's familiar silver-gold locks. "Down at the police station. Jace tells me that Aemond's shaken. Unable to form any statement." she adds with a deep breath. Aware that the story was reaching its climax.

"Alicent won't let him speak anyways. Where's Helaena?" he paused, reminded of his youngest niece. "She's babysitting the kids. Daemon, role-calling everyone won't be enough to distract you from Y/N. She's a wall away, I can hear her heart monitor from here." she pointed out.

Clearly as nervous as he was.

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe that we're given a second chance at everything, but we're still making the same mistakes." he sat down on the bench beside her.

He wanted to be a better person. Make his life worthwhile, but with the people around him repeating the same mistakes over and over. "I feel like I'm trapped inside a paradox. We'll die, then we'll get reborn and repeat everything again. It's like that show we watched. Are we in the Bad Place?" his eyebrows merged together.

"I don't know, Daemon. It feels like hell, but then I see my sons and I wouldn't trade this life for anything else." she had a bitter smile on her face. A nurse steps out of your room.

Daemon rises to his feet.

"Is she awake?" he inquired.

"No. I don't think that I'm at liberty to say this but - being unconscious for this long isn't normal. They'll do some tests, but I'm sure she'll be fine." the nurse felt inclined to speak out, seeing Daemon's worried face.

"Are you her boyfriend?" the nurse asked.

Rhaenyra's face softened. "It's complicated." she bit her lower lip.

(HARRENHAL.)

TW: NON CON SCENE (WILL STATE WHEN IT'S OVER SO YOU CAN SCROLL DOWN TO IT)

You breathe in the smell of smoke. Harrenhal was a curse.

"You will die here." you whispered, the prophetic visions finally finding solace inside of you, like they've found solace in Alys.

"You dampen the mood." Aemond pours himself a goblet of wine. "- it will not stop me from having my way." he reminded.

"I know." you whispered.

"We won't be needing this," he stated, cutting swiftly through your gown. He was staring at your body with the intensity of a thousand stars - you could've sworn that it was love - but it was not. "Why are you doing this?" you whisper, covering your breasts.

He does not acknowledge the use of your tongue. He ignores you. He presses a kiss to your jaw, inhaling the scent of your jasmine perfume. A prisoner has never lived more lavishly than you. "Riñītsos," he answered, hands trailing down to pull yours away.

"You sleep beside my sister knowing such stain is upon your honor." you gritted your teeth.

"Stomach up." he commanded - eyes twinkling with lust. "Legs open," he added - seeing you in the vulnerable position.

You couldn't remember anything that happened afterwards.

(NON-CON SCENE OVER)

"I care not about what he's done to your husband. I care more about what you had to go through." Alys looked at you in a crestfallen way. She vowed to protect you, but her visions clouded her judgement. Made her believe that Aemond was their savior.

"It'll be the same tomorrow, Alys, unless you can remedy this curse then rid yourself. Leave my presence." you pleaded, unable to stare into her eyes. The same eyes that you looked at in the mirror. "You may think me cold, that all I've ever grown to love is him. I thought that I could control him, but he is like the wind." she shook her head.

"You cannot catch the wind, sister." your breath quivered.

"What I've done is payment for my sins," she started.

You snap out of the trance. Eyes finally meeting hers.

"What did you do?" you asked.

"I killed him." Alys admitted, only then did you realize the streak of blood of her cheek. "I'm sorry." she apologized, falling to the floor.

"I forgive you." you bite the insides of your cheeks.

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

"There will be a boat going to an island near the Ghiscari Empire. I hope that you find peace there." she handed you three dragons. "What about you?" you tilted her head, feeling the tears trickle down your cheeks. "I must stay." she reminded.

It was the last winter that you'd spend with this body. You lived sixty more years without your husband. Now, you were old and frail - there were lines on the sides of your eyes. Wrinkles that weren't there when your husband was still alive.

"Have some tea." Serenei's daughter beckoned.

You complied.

Feeling every bit of your consciousness slip away.

You had a vision the night before, that this would be your last life. You already broke the karmic chains and learnt all your lessons. There was no need to restart the pain and suffering.

But you sharply argued with the gods.

Told them that you had to be reborn. You needed to see Daemon. You needed a life where you could be with him longer, and happier.

The gods granted you that gift.

And thus, here you are again.

Your throat felt dry; like you haven't drank water in a thousand years. You hear the machine beeping beside you. A feeling of someone's hand on top of yours.

You opened your eyes.

"Daemon," you whispered.

"I remember."

next chapter>>

OK THIS LINE

You've watched your sister hold the enemy softer than she's ever held you. You watch her let peace slip through her fingers. You watch her betray you and you forgive her, because this is the role she must play. You cannot resent the dancer for the actions of the song.

WAS COPIED FROM @faiIwife on twitter. IT MADE MY LIFE IM SORRY.

[apas-95]

abt the 'exit strategy for capitalism' thing obviously the natural advantages of socialist states will lead to their uncontested military and economical dominance in the coming decades, at which point they'll have both means and motive to buy out bourgeois interests and their 'possessions' and transition the economical system while there's no easy way for imperial core states to outright end these trends, their policies obviously do affect the economical development of socialist states and there's probably enough variance to shift the timetable on all this happening by a couple years, so y'know exert whatever influence you have on the particular flavor of capitalism that's in vogue if done well (and what I'm seeing rn actually gives me hope for that) the capitalists at no point have an incentive to burn the whole thing down out of spite bc they keep earning right until they don't, you know how the saying abt ropes and hangings goes (and if done poorly and they cling to and suck dry the last scraps of the world's economy they control at least everywhere else should be out of reach by then) and my main concern with a revolution is actually that one will 100% get accused of having foreign backing, at which point you just needlessly raise the odds of some general deciding he (or she #imwithher) might as well let those nukes fly (even if they're losing, especially if they're losing) But it's all w/e, I could be convinced either way, this all just makes a lot more sense to me than a succesful imperial core revolution that doesn't end with the northern hemisphere irradiated

fundamentally the notion of a peaceful transition out of capitalism is simply not in agreement with reality. no class has ever abandoned the world stage without fighting to maintain itself, and the imperial core is already both undertaking massive violence and war against the sections of the global south it already has under its heel, and preparing for high-intensity conflict against the communists that have slipped its shackles. there is no point where the bourgeoisie would simply peacefully allow themselves to be stripped of power.

the point of nukes is exactly *why* there has to be revolution within the imperial core, rather than having the rest of the world do the job for them - there is precisely one place the US has no nuclear deterrent against, which is itself. if the thing we're supposed to fear is that both 'the US military's high command, likely facing severe mutiny, rather than ordering a negotiated surrender during civil war, decides to nuke themselves' as well as 'the US strategic missile forces, upon receiving the order to nuke themselves, carry it out', then so be it - such a fundamental strategic insanity would be just as likely to start a nuclear exchange even if there weren't a revolution - which brings us to the final point.

world war is on the horizon. the economic reasons for world war remain as they did a century and a half ago. the world has been fully carved up, and the profits are drying out. the imperialist blocks, principally the US and EU, are driven to compete against each other for their holdings, first peacefully, then through proxy war, and finally through direct conflict. as it was a hundred years ago, the buildup of war is accepted on all sides with the target of the socialist bloc and the potential for its pillaging, but (as has already started breaking out among larger and larger regional powers) any conflict of this sort would manifest as general war and looting, as desperate, recession-wracked imperialists take opportunity as it presents itself. in inter-imperialist war the most ruthless techniques are used, and a nuclear exchange would not be off the table -- and, fundamentally, the conditions that lead to world war are the same that lead to instability, insurrection, and revolution within individual countries.

war is, at this juncture, an inevitability. the only question is whether revolutionary war will win out over unjust war, will convert the war between nations to a war between classes. we are against war, but we are not afraid of it.

[sgrplumditz]

Orange peel theory w/ Simon Riley

They had all been granted time off work for a couple weeks now. Being left uninterrupted by her typical life of briefings, debriefings, flights across the globe, and long days away from home only added to her restless nature and her seemingly effortless ability to grow bored --like any woman in her 20's would do to kill time she downloaded social media.

"What the fuck is the orange peel theory?" she spoke to herself as she tossed a piece of the mentioned fruit into her mouth. She continued scrolling through what appeared to be an endless supply of videos regarding the topic. Once she had grasped the concept she shut her phone off and only stared at the scraps of orange peel sitting on the table, a small "hm" leaving her lips as she wondered if that mindless social media trend held any real substance.

Can a person truly show how much they care about another by simply peeling an orange for them? Does peeling a fruit display the extent of their affection?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she stood up collecting her trash. "No wonder women today are insane..." she thought to herself as she found herself spiraling into deep thought over a fruit named after its color. The over-scrutinizing coming naturally.

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

"Don't request to follow me, killer", said Simon in his typical stoic tone. Simon had always referred to her as “killer”, not because of her career choice, but simply because of the way her eyes sat on her face. When she was on duty she wore a balaclava — similar to Simon’s, but it was more precautionary. She actually had no interest in keeping her identity concealed, but being the only woman on the team meant that she would easily become a target if her identity and gender were to be revealed — hence Simon’s encouragement behind the wearing of a balaclava, which the entire team also agreed would be a good idea. However, when she wore the cloth that hid her features her eyes become even more prominent. The striking color only complimented by the sharp almond shape that seemed to drag at the ends. Because of that Simon then coined the nickname “Killer” for her Killer eyes, which she only accepted as a term of endearment.

“We are not friends, just co-workers". Simon had always been impressively kept to himself in the sense that his private life remained private -- if he truly had one outside of his job. He was good at being a literal ghost. Not many (if any) knew not even the smallest of details — like a hobby, or a favorite color. His name itself was also a privilege to know. She was always curious about him, but she never pushed boundaries on the man. What he revealed to her was what she accepted, a quality that he enjoyed about her, amongst others.

"Aw, c'mon! You let Soap follow you!" she replied with a slight chuckle leaving her mouth. She and Simon were sitting together in the living room of the house that all of Task Force 141 shared. It was convenient, close to the base, and it also meant nobody had to pay rent, but it was empty as of recently. Everyone but her and Simon had taken advantage of the break and decided to travel elsewhere for the remainder of their time off -- leaving only them two in the giant 7-bedroom house.

"He's my friend" he replied still holding the same disinterested tone, yet his body language displayed him to be seemingly intrigued by the conversation. That was one of his best qualities. Simon was not one to initiate an interaction himself unless he felt the need to assert himself, but that did not mean that he was not able to hold a conversation with substance.

"For someone who has social media you're not very social," she muttered as she slumped back on the couch in defeat. Her gaze lazily resting on him.

"Touché" was his only retort. At this point, he had also leaned back in his seat, his hips inching upward as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. How his body reacted to the movement made his abdominal muscles contract -- her eyes resting on the contracting anatomy. He also maintained his gaze on her, and for a second there was a slight hint of amusement in his eyes as they softened knowing that he knew exactly how to get under her skin. With him being so quiet meant that he was always observing the others, learning their mannerisms and personalities. She couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear that she was fond of him — especially in the physical category, Simon easily embodies the definition of what it means to be a man. He is tall, muscular, handsome, and his personality was simply the cherry on top of the 6’3” sundae.

"I'm... social..." she reclaimed as she removed herself from her spiraling thoughts of him, her tone slightly defensive. Similarly to Simon, she was a homebody and actively avoided situations that required her to be out of her comfort zone for an extended period of time -- perhaps that is part of the reason why the two got along so well. "I just have.." she attempted to continue, but she was cut off by Simon finishing her predictable answer.

"... a social battery. Yeah, you've mentioned that before, Killer." his eyes narrowing slightly amused at her reply. He chuckled shaking his head and pulling his cellphone out of the pocket of his gray sweat pants. He typed into the device’s screen for a few seconds before tossing it to his left side, “Happy?” He chuckled , her phone vibrating as he spoke. She obviously knew the notification was from him, so she didn’t even bother glancing at the device.

“I knew you’d come around. You can never say no to me” she smirked. The pair would often go back a forth with mildly flirtations comments, all of them being light hearted and mostly came from the fact that she was the only woman on the team. The playful banter merely came naturally — at least that is what she assumed. She never took Simon as the type to ever have a genuine interest in a woman due to obvious reasons.

“How could I ever say no to those eyes, Princess?” A teasing tone lingering on his tongue. Princess was the second nickname he had labeled her with. Again, being the only female of the team meant she got some sort of special treatment from everyone else. Soap would help her carry in her groceries — knowing she was more than capable, Price would always brew her some fresh coffee along with his own then place it in the fridge so that by the time she woke up she could easily make an iced coffee without having that watered down taste, and Gaz would often restock her feminine care products for her. Him calling her Princess was the most teasing variation of her nicknames. Although she was well aware of the meaning and the reasoning behind it she could not help but smile whenever he used it. Her full lips parted slightly as a soft grin appeared on them and oddly enough he returned it with a half grin.

He forced himself to stand up before he became completely engulfed in the moment, "I'm gonna make some lunch. Wanna join?" he prompted as he initiated his walk to the kitchen. With a slight nod of her head she also raised herself off the couch and followed closely behind him. God does he always smell good, she thought to herself as they walked.

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

She sat on the kitchen island scrolling through her phone as Simon cooked them both lunch. The two had grown to be comfortable around each other, and their kindred personalities only added to their ability to sit in a peaceful silence. The aroma created by the mixing of spices and ingredients only made her stomach growl and rumble. The sound audible to both her and Simon and truthfully she could not wait to eat. She considered having a snack before just to ease her stomach -- before she could even set her phone down Simon had handed her a small bowl of fruit.

Specifically a bowl of oranges — peeled orange slices. She stared at the bowl in awe. Her gaze was unintentionally soft. As she shifted her gaze to him she noticed that he had gone back to cooking their lunch, as if the action itself was natural to him, something he didn’t think twice about doing for her. He had taken notice of her staring which made him quirk an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a piece of orange from the bowl that was sitting on her lap, close to her lower stomach, casually tossing the piece of fruit into his mouth. “I thought you liked oranges” he spoke with the assumption that she was disappointed in the contents of the bowl.

“I do.” she replied softly. He gave her a small wink prior to turning his attention back to their meal. The entire interaction being a sign of pure affection.

_______________________________________________

Pic credit:

instagram/tiktok: takeoffurmaskghost

[mara-xx217]

can you write something with Levi and affectionate reader? I feel really bad for him ngl

I think Levi is one of my favourite contestants in Termina, so I'm happy to give the boy some much needed gentle attention.

Warnings: Withdrawal Symptoms, References to Typical Canon Violence, there is some Fluff in spite of all the bad shit I promise

Enjoy!~

It was no different from the cold he experienced on the battlefield, but Levi never got used to it, even then. A bone chilling ache had set into his joints, making them stiff and pop audibly every time he took a step or raised his rifle or stooped down to the ground whenever a nauseating headache blinded him as he went longer and longer without his fix.

By the time the two of you reached the Bop, he was pale and visibly sweating, having soaked through his coveralls to the point that his clothing was a shade darker and small rolls of steam rose off his shoulders and rattled not from the wind, but from the intensity that Levi was shaking.

"Levi... you need to take a break. You're... You look really, really bad..." You raise your hand in his direction and he flinches, which had you stepping back and lowering your hand.

"W-What...? What? U-Uh... Sorry..." His eyes were wide and wild for a moment but they quickly calmed once he recognized it was you that was moving out of the corner of his eye. Levi turns to face you, needing your lips in order to aid his hearing of your speech. The few years he spent fighting in the second Great War has left him partially deaf and generally hard of hearing. It was yet another thing that made him nervous and jumpy and it made you a little sad to see...

Even in the warm light of the Bop, Levi was on edge and unable to sit down. You had to guide him inside and you had to gently beg him to take a seat. A part of you thought that Marina, who was seated at the bar, would poke fun at you and Levi but to her credit, she only looked up from her book in passing and then focused back down onto it.

"This place is pretty safe, even from Rher's influences. You can take it easy, soldier boy." Marina sighed and closed her book.

"That redhead, Abella, is downstairs. Need anything?" Marina was looking more at you than Levi, as he looked positively green and out of sorts.

"Y-Yeah... A blanket if you can, maybe two, but that might be asking too much..." You gently guide Levi to place his rifle down on one of the tables and all it takes for him to collapse onto the bench is the pressure of your palm pressing down on his shoulder from above.

"Yeah. How's about some food and water, too? I don't think it will be warm, but it's something." You nod and tell her your and Levi's thanks. Marina's offer could be seen as sarcastic, but she didn't really seem like the type to offer help without the intention to give it when accepted.

"Please, Marina? Thank you..."

You sat beside of your friend, stomach churning as you watch him writhe in place. He can't sit still, from discomfort, from the pins and needles that prickled the underneath of his legs and the overwhelming need to just-

To fucking just-!

Levi hissed in pain as a strange texture scrapped against his bare arms. His withdrawal symptoms had left him hypersensitive to all tangible stimuli, so the simple act of having a coat placed over his shoulders was a nearly unbearable sensation. It wasn't... an unwelcomed one, though, especially since it was your jacket that you had draped over him.

As much as he wanted to thank you, he quite literally didn't have the energy to say or even do anything. The simple act of keeping his body upright was a trial from hell and it was a struggle that he was losing. The thought of putting his arms and head on the smooth, cold table made him want to vomit but leaning back against the wall was just as bad. Levi rocked in place, a few strangled, choked groans and hisses of pain escaping his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut.

It hurts... It hurts to just exist... It feels like- like...

It feels like he's going to fucking explode-

It was likely foolish on your part, but you gingerly wrapped your arm around his thin shoulder and encouraged him to lean over onto you. At first, Levi was hesitant. Not because he was annoyed or because he didn't want to, but merely because he doesn't know if he could even stand it... But he couldn't keep himself upright any longer, and instead of resting his head against against your shoulder, he slipped down further and ended up resting his head against your lap.

It was... unexpected. For both of you. If it were another time, another place, under different skies, it would have been different. It could have been nice... It could have made you both blush and your hearts pound sheepishly in your chests as you both shyly avoid each other's gazes... But here and now?

You tried to hold Levi as he shivered and moaned in pain. Every touch was agony but he didn't beg you to stop, even though his body screamed for him to do so. He needed to know that you were there... that you were watching over him and making sure that he was safe... Levi should have been doing this for himself, for you, but he just couldn't. He was too sick, too tired, to weak...

For once, he needed to be the one that was protected and sheltered, just like how he wanted for the majority of his life. The festival wasn't a safe place, but you did help make it better, even if marginally and through your presence and care alone.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @thanksatt, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||It's okay To Rest

Just realized with all me getting accepted into school and all, caused me to stress about not disappointing my parents, relatives So it's okay to take it easy.

Usually, Alastor would see you socializing either the other people like Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk and all during your days in hell, but this time he began noticing you, becoming more and more reclined towards your room.

Your room probably was the most comforting one in the entire hotel, All the books Alastor would bring you would be piled, or decorated in the bookshelves, the fairy lights casted a warm and inviting glow to your reader's heart, you had a dressing table and next to it were satin nightgowns, shrugs lined on a rack, Alastor found you whimsical and enchanting, like he was just allowed for just a moment to see the world you saw.

Your worktable, which used to be a few scraps of paper and loose sheets now was filled with random annotations, and question marks, diaries were tossed in one corner, and then a sewing kit was tossed in the other, it was really unlike you to just toss your things around.

Alastor knew you loved to eat, the different types of cookbooks he owned and recipes he learned through radio broadcasts you would always love them, it was one of his most obvious love languages, Now Alastor brought you some well cooked dinner, lunch paired with a desert to cheer you up, but these past few months in hell he has seen you getting more exhausted, he would find you sleeping on your desk, you sometimes complained of a back pain.

Alastor thought of making you some more tapes of his voice, maybe like a little reminder for you to just rest and take care of your health, you were not a soul, you were a human, and he knew this wasn't going to get you anywhere.

Alastor had a fair idea of the things you liked, Books, Rain, Tea, but this time he had actually visited the cannibal town one of the pleasant places in hell, because it was miraculously neat, decent, and came with a lot of things like books, recipe books, candles, and were selling really nice bath items, as a surprise he brought them over for you, he wanted to run you a nice bath so you could unwind.

"My dear, all this work is not good for you, come on now I have a little surprise for you, which should lighten your mood a little." "I'll just write this page and--" "What if after just a bit of unwinding you might have a clearer idea of what should go into the paper."

You gave that thought a go, and your glad you did, because Alastor had prepared the most beautiful bath you could've expected, the room had an earthy and relaxing scent waffling through it, and a warm bath which had candles casting a warm glow over the room, the water was warm and soothing, you felt a wave of gratitude towards Alastor, he really did notice the small offs in you, it made you feel cared for and seen.

You felt your tense muscles relax against the warm bath, and your endless inner dialogue nagging you to write this or write this was coming to a comforting standstill and just like those two hours had passed by.

When you returned back to your room, it felt fresh, Alastor had sprayed some room freshener it smelled like fresh apples, somewhat even husky, the desk had been cleaned you notice new shelves carrying proud parchment papers, quills, pens, pencils with new decor, you sighed sitting on your bed feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you could finally relax.

Alastor handed you another book, well it was a journal it had a dark green color, it looked neatly wrapped and had a little black ribbon which you could use to tie around the journal, you were a little shocked and pleasantly surprised by how the evening had been turning out,

"I noticed you have a lot of Journals, and I remember you talking to Charlie about how you would buy a new one."

"Alastor... This whole evening, I don't know what to say, except thank you."

"Eat your meals on time dear, don't overwork yourself, and sleep on time."

You nodded feeling really glad, that even in a place like hell, you had someone so warm and caring and that makes you happy even in hell.

[yanderes-galore]

I'm so excited for this! Do you think you could write a story for the original Freddy Fazbear (from FNAF 1) where he keeps reader after he traps them on a suit and reader's soul possesses it?Reader wakes, trapped in a robot and is forced to stay inside the pizzeria, with Freddy. Do it's a Freddy Fazbear with possessed animatronic! Darling

-🦊

Sure! I decided to do some HCs and a small drabble/prompt (not exactly 100 words but it's short) for this as I couldn't tell what you wanted? I had this down as a concept but re-reading this you said story so I did a little of both!

As per usual, no dead kids involved. The only one possessing anything is you. The bots are treated like they are in Security Breach.

Yandere! Freddy Fazbear with Haunted Animatronic! Darling

(Small HCs + Short Story)

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Death, Accidental murder, Possession, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping (technically), Gore, Graphic descriptions, Forced companionship.

HCs/Concept 🎩🐻🎤

I've mentioned many times that Freddy may accidentally kill you to keep you with him in his concepts.

In an attempt to keep you hidden in the pizzeria he no doubt hides you in an extra suit.

That or he tries to fit you in his.

Either way, these bots aren't really known for being careful when doing such a process.

Most likely by accident, Freddy may push a little too hard.

Resulting in your demise.

In an attempt to keep his dear pal with him, one who just wanted to go home, he kills you.

This fate for you would happen if any of the FNAF 1 animatronics tried to keep you.

When Freddy realizes your screaming for him to stop has ended... he thinks you've accepted your fate.

He feels joy within him at the thought of keeping you here to himself.

Then his sensors kick in... and he does a quick scan over the robotic suit.

His ears twitch as his optics pick up on something out of the ordinary.

He sees blood pool out of the holes of the suit and stain the fur.

He sees strange matter pooling near certain joints.

Dread starts to seep in as he takes a better look at the suit he picked.

Maybe the suit was another bear suit, or maybe even one of your favorite animal that was scrapped.

Either way Freddy can't take his optics of the now bleeding suit.

He isn't sure how to react.

Fear starts to creep into his processors as he realizes he may have just lost his pal.

His paws shift around the suit, trying to find a heartbeat.

When he doesn't find one the bot pauses and stops.

He can't fix this.

He knows it was an accident but he's scared he can't get you back.

You most likely don't haunt the suit until some time after.

After your death Freddy goes back to his programing dejected.

When the day is over he mourns your loss in silence.

His friends (Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy) try to comfort him as they sense something off in his behavior.

Yet Freddy is never quite the same outside of performances.

Things don't change until he hears shuffling from the other room.

During the night shift Freddy makes his way to the Parts & Service room to figure out the noise.

What he's greeted with is a confused animatronic looking around the room from a table.

The same place you died.

Freddy then decides to engage, saying your name softly as the other bot turns around.

You responded to the name, yet just stare quietly.

Then... he hears your voice through the voice box.

"What have you done to me... why am I here!?"

Freddy knows somewhere in his coding he should be concerned.

Yet he's too excited about the fact you're back.

All he can think about is the fact you've come back to him!

He never lost his pal!

In fact, he made them better!

Now he's made you a part of the band!

Forever.

Freddy would try his best to comfort and help you in your new robotic prison body.

He tells you what animal you are and is overly excited about it.

He though he'd lose you forever!

You may be scared but he's happy.

He's so scared to lose you again he often visits you in the Parts & Service room to ease his worries.

During the night he allows you to roam and walk with him.

He even allows you to speak with the others!

Now and forever... you'll be a part of their family.

You hate this but it's not like you can cry about it.

You lack the tears, your original body crumpled somewhere in this prison.

All you can do is sit still throughout the day and roam at night.

You can't escape Freddy, either.

The bear is now never too far from you, glowing blue eyes staring at you in the dark.

Now... you two can play forever.

You won't need to leave him ever again.

You'll have fun here forever.

Short Story 🎩🐻🎤

"Are you still in there?"

You cringe as metal grinds together. It's your joints that make the noises as you look around your little room. Endo skeleton parts and costume heads line shelves and you recognize this as the Parts & Service room from your job.

Days ago you recall pain. You remember dying to the bear you thought you could trust. He claims he had remorse. Had... yet now he only appears happy.

You refuse to answer the voice behind the door in an act of defiance. All you do is look around the room through old robotic optics. Is this... really your fate?

The creaky sound of the metal door opening only fills you with disappointment. Blue optics meet your own as the bear scans the room. Once he sees you he enters but you still refuse to move.

"It's 12 AM, you know what that means, don't you?" The main bear asks in an excited tone. You only blink at him blankly. The bear ignores your silence and smiles.

"I've been waiting all night to play with you, pal!" Freddy cheers as he stalks closer. You take this time to get yourself off the table and keep your distance. "... are you mad at me?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You answer, your voice both sounding like your own yet also the character you're supposed to be. It's foreign... you don't like it.

But supposedly it's part of you now.

"I didn't mean it!" The bear pouts. "Besides... I'll keep you company all the time now! You have all the friends you could ever want here!"

"I want to be alone." You say simply, turning to look at a wall.

"Pal... don't do this. You'll enjoy your time here." The bear's tone shifts in annoyance.

"And if I don't?" You say softly and turn around, sadness in your tone. You feel a robotic hand pat your back and feel glowing eyes stare into your back.

"You will. You have me and the others. This is your home now." Freddy repeats, finding his way to your stained paw to pull you towards the door.

"This place should be much better than your original home. Now you'll never abandon us..." Freddy pauses, locking optics with you. "Now you'll never abandon me."

You feel nothing as you're forced to follow the bear. Mechanical clanking is all you hear in your auditory centers as he guides you into the main stage room. You're met with a smiling Bonnie and Chica... you feel homesick.

You just want to go home... but after your little incident and the look Freddy keeps giving you...

You have a feeling you have to make this your new home... like it or not.

"Why don't you join our band, pal?"

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 11

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, SMUT

Chapter Length: 6K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

��☆☆

You stare at the door for a long time after it closes. 

When the shock starts to wear off, the regret seeps in. There's so much more you should have asked him; so much you should have told him. Instead of almost silently accepting the end of your friendship, why hadn't you tried to make him slow down and talk to you?

Your eyes drift downward as you feel the truth settle into the pit of your stomach: You'd known as well as he had, saying anything more would only have led to further pain.

As you turn away, your blank gaze slides from the door and falls to the small table nearby. On top of the table, you keep a little bowl with trinkets and a few scrap pieces for your speeder bike. Beside these items sits a heap of cloth, which you don't recognize. You draw nearer, noticing that it's wrapped neatly around a cylindrical object. Picking it up and pulling back the cloth, you're taken aback to see the hilt of a lightsaber. Your lightsaber. 

You slide it out of the fabric, feeling the weight of it in your hand for a moment, then place it delicately down on the tabletop just to stare at it. 

You'd been facing Dooku when you'd lost it, completely on the opposite side of the outpost from where you'd been rescued. He would have been the only one there to retrieve it. And yet, he'd told you at that time he'd believed you were dead. 

Your chest suddenly aches. 

You tell yourself not to think about him, fleeing for his own life, half-dead himself, but stopping to pick up the only remnant he'd thought he would have of your existence.

Facing away from the table, you shut your eyes and do the same thing you've been doing for the past two days - immersing yourself in the force with a fervent determination you've never known before.

Your eyes flutter open again. You look out the window. The snow whirls. 

Despite your better judgment - despite the fact that you know he'll feel it - you reach into the force and try to sense him. His speeder should be halfway back to base by now. You might not sense him at all. But you want to try.

To your immense surprise, you feel him instantly, his presence not halfway back to base as expected. In fact, he's not far away at all. 

Pacing back to the door as quickly as your legs can carry you, you pull the handle and wince as the spray of icy wind crashes against your face again. His figure emerges slowly from the white abyss, one of his arms upheld to break the lashes of snow whipping around him. He's only a few feet away, but it's still hard to make out the shape of him through the dense flakes of ice.

"I don't suppose," he shouts over the rising gusts, "I could trouble you for a ride back to the main base?"

You wrap one arm around yourself, shivering and leaning out of the doorway to wave him in. "Come inside!"

He finishes his trek, entering your house once again,  and you swiftly close the door behind him. After catching his breath, he lowers his hood again and sighs. 

"I'm sorry to impose. I didn't realize the storm would be so..." He gestures to the window to indicate the ferocity of the wind beating away at your home. "The speeder bike I rented can hardly lift off the ground."

You give a shake of your head. "You aren't imposing. I don't think anyone expected it to be this bad. But I can't give you a ride back to base. I loaned my ship to a friend off world." 

When he raises a brow, you shrug. "They needed a ship, and I didn't expect to be leaving anytime soon. My speeder is all I have at the moment."

Brushing a hand through the front of his snow-dusted hair, he sends a worried look off to the side. You stand, a bit stiffly, not quite knowing what to do or say. You try another solution. "I suppose you'll need to call someone at base for a pick up."

He doesn't answer for a few beats. Then he shrugs off his coat again, placing it gently on the bench. He seems to hesitate when looking downward, and you realize he must have noticed that you'd found your lightsaber. 

He flicks his gaze back up to you. "I would prefer not to. This trip wasn't exactly... above board."

You'd started to back toward the kettle you'd had boiling before his arrival, but that makes you stop in your tracks. "Oh?"

You pose it half as a question, half as a statement, not wanting to force an explanation. He clears his throat, though, correctly reading your tone as curious.

"I was meant to deliver a mission report on Coruscant, then return to the Gaulus sector for further duties. But I left my duties in the hands of Commander Cody for the time being, and I... took a short leave. For my health."

"I... see," you answer, turning away and walking to the stovetop, fiddling with the knobs while you process his words. His second lie of omission to the council. You consider this, not saying anything in return. 

He hovers at your home's entrance, and you both listen as the long-range holocomm goes off again, detailing the inclement weather. The storm is worsening. 

The kettle is warm again by the time the report ends, and when you turn back to him with a reheated cup of tea, he gratefully accepts it, taking a seat in your kitchen when you motion for him to do so.

"Isn't there a friend you could call?" you ask, sitting down across from him at the small table. "Someone you trust not to share your... change in plans?"

He strokes a hand down his chin just once, shaking his head. "Anakin is on assignment, several days away."

It's been a long time since you'd heard mention of Mace Windu's former padawan. The young war hero had very nearly become Obi Wan's padawan when they'd first met, but the council had seen the bond between the two following Qui Gon's untimely death and had thought it better not to encourage their closeness, placing him with Master Windu instead. An unlikely friendship had still unfolded, despite their efforts, and you'd often joked that the Skywalker boy had always been Obi Wan's second padawan.

You want to ask more about Anakin, but that sort of lighthearted talk doesn't seem relevant at the moment. Instead, you sip your tea and think. 

You try to keep your eyes locked onto the drink in your hand, instead of roaming across the lines in his face. His features are drawn down, stern and contemplative, and you want to paint over every inch of him, getting a second chance at your last encounter. 

Clearing your throat, you try to force nonchalance into your voice. "Well, these storms don't usually last long. A few hours, or a day at most. You're welcome to stay until-"

You quiet down on the word "until", both of you listening as the holocomm goes off again, this time with an even more severe warning. The storm is now expected to last nearly a full rotation. Neither of you makes a comment right away, though the shift in energy is palpable. Ilum's rotations are sixty-six hours. 

When the broadcast ends, Obi Wan's eyes flicker up to yours with a far-off look. They're a little dulled, his expression restrained and distant. It's the look he often holds when giving orders. The look that duty brushes over him.

"Perhaps I will make a call, after all."

Standing up, you start to make your way over to the holocomm to help him dial out, but you freeze in place when the lights cut out, and the low electronic hum throughout your home suddenly drops into silence. You look around the darkened room, then back at him, catching only the faintest outline of his expression in the soft light coming through the window.

"Don't worry," you assure him, once the initial jolt of susprise has worn off. "I have a generator."

"Oh," he answers, the shadow of his face peering around your dim surroundings. A few seconds later, he adds, "good."

A few seconds after that, he gives you a mildly concerned look that has you crossing the room to check the fuse panel. 

"Which definitely should have started up by now," you say, opening the cover. The normally illuminated buttons are completely dark. 

"Damn," you whisper to yourself. Then you turn back to Obi Wan, who's also now standing. 

"I'm sure it's just a loose connection somewhere," you tell him, reaching for your own jacket and pulling it over your robes. "I'll have it fixed in no time. Don't worry."

He gives you an uncertain look. It's the same one he always employs when you're failing to sell him a lie. But he doesn't argue as you finish dressing and head back to the door. 

After he's followed you into the small maintenance shack behind your home despite your insistence for him to stay inside, Obi Wan finally gives his opinion. 

"That does not look good."

You glance up at him from your kneeling position on the ground, flashlight fixed on the gnarled remnants of the main rotor. "No, it's-"

You're interrupted by the sound of skittering feet, and you jerk the light to follow the movement, catching the barest glimpse of grey flesh along with a flash of multiple eyes. Yelping at the sight, you tip back onto your feet to stand up. 

Before you can so much as bend your knees, a pulse of energy rips you backward, and the creature on the opposite side of the shed crashes into the wall with a dry slapping sound. Obi Wan lunges in front of you, lightsaber brandished, and you belatedly realize he's force-pushed you to the ground. 

"Obi Wan, it's a lisk!" you tell him, getting up to stand beside him. "It's just a lisk."

You've managed to pin the reptilian-looking thing under the light, finally, and you both watch as it drops from the wall and scrambles out of the maintenance shack, through a hole in the corner. The animals aren't dangerous, or at least, certainly not a threat to a Jedi. You find them creepy, but they aren't really more than a nuisance. 

Obi Wan would have - should have sensed this. But he hadn't responded to the danger. His response had been to your yelp of surprise. As you look at him, a loose lock of hair threatening to dip into his eyes, his teeth jutted in what you'd very nearly call a snarl, snd his body held in a distinct Ataru pose, the meaning of what he'd said earlier - about not working together - is suddenly ringing out to you with crystalline clarity.

And he knows it. He silences the hum of his weapon, deactivating it and clipping it back to his belt with one smooth, hurried movement. 

"I didn't realize it was- " He starts and stops, tenses his shoulders, then drops them. "I'm not familiar."

Neither of you addresses the fact that he'd thrown you to the ground. Neither of you says anything about his taking an offensive attack position that he hasn't used since before you'd met - since before the death of his master. 

You gather yourself, trying to move past the discomfort of the moment by looking back down at the torn mess of metal on the ground. "They're common, here, but not dangerous," you tell him. "Not unless you're a generator."

Obi Wan's gaze follows yours. "Evidently."

"They like the warmth, I think. But they've never caused this much damage." You back away from it, sighing. "I don't suppose you have a long-range commlink you've been keeping secret?"

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

A particularly loud gust of wind wails through the small crack between the open doors of the shed, widening the opening with drifting snow. 

A full rotation. Sixty-six hours. 

"We'd better get back inside," you tell him, turning off your flashlight. "We'll need to keep all the warmth we have left."

--

First Hour

"And how much is left, exactly?"

You swiftly close the small door of the wood burning stove, having tossed in another log. "Enough to get through about two standard days, comfortably. Or four... uncomfortably."

"I take it we're rationing, then."

You stand up, brushing the splintered wood from your leggings. "To be safe, yes. I can't heat the whole house, either. We'll have to close off the two other rooms."

He nods, firelight flickering across his face. He seems to hesitate, and you've turned back to the stew hanging in an old-fashioned durasteel kettle above the fire before he speaks again. 

"I suppose it doesn't serve much purpose for me to mention it now, but, was it wise to keep such a small stock of emergency supplies?"

You stir the food, looking over at the paltry woodpile. "I don't, normally," you answer, mouth closing in an 'M' shape that nearly became the word 'Master'. Old habits die incredibly hard, it seems. Especially when he takes that tone with you, thinly veiling his judgment. 

"There was a storm recently before this one, and an outpost on the southern quadrant needed urgent resupply. I split my stockpile in half, and I meant to replace it. A few days later, I was called away to an emergency mission," you look at him pointedly. "Never got around to it."

"Yes, well," he absently runs the back of his knuckles down the side of his beard. "Your ship is loaned to one friend, your supplies to another... it's a shame I made my visit after you've run out of favors to give."

You smirk a little, dishing some of the stew into a bowl and handing it to him. "I don't know about that. Here."

He takes it with a curious look and follows you when you close the lid on the kettle, leaving the main room and heading back to the seating area in the kitchen. Sitting down across from him again, you invite him to eat with a gesture, while pouring two drinks. He's taking his first bite when you open your cupboard and take out a couple of small cakes, placing one down next to him and taking a bite of the other. 

He raises his brows in surprise. "Is that..." He bites into it, politely finishing his chewing before starting again. "Where in blazes did you find yalo cakes?"

You give a genuine smile. "Made them myself."

"Very impressive," he says, bringing warmth to your face with the compliment. "They're delicious. Where did you get the yalo root?"

"Picked it up on a supply run on-" You stop yourself, then look up at him. There's no point in not finishing the sentence. He knows where to get yalo root. It's his favorite. That's why, on some level, you'd wanted it on hand. It brought you back to those days in the temple, with him. "... on Coruscant."

There's a long silence and it's obvious he's deliberating on whether to say anything. But you both know what he would say, and you both know there's no point in posing any questions. Eventually, you say something anyway. 

"I would have visited, it's just-"

"Of course," he interrupts. "There's no need to explain. I would have likely been away on duty anyway."

You drop your gaze down to the table. You wish you could just... tell him. Seeing him would have only made things worse for you, and you dealt with it the only way you knew how. You want so badly to just tell him, so that he can understand. 

So you do.

"I wanted to see you more than anything," you say quietly, and his spoon clinks against the side of the bowl as he sets it down. You can't bear to raise your eyes yet. "But I thought if I did, it would make thinking about you... harder." 

You drag your gaze up to him, forcing yourself to look. "You know what's funny, though? I don't think it made any difference."

His blue eyes are set, wide, unflinching. His mouth is tightly closed, and his expression is indiscernible. 

You let the silence drag on, finally breaking it again when he doesn't say anything. "I'm... going to go shower. Before the water in the tank freezes."

He watches you go, not saying a word. 

 

Third Hour

You've both spent some time in the refresher, your hair still a bit damp as you begin to light a few candles. You don't have many, so you've rationed them as well, placing them together in the middle of the room, on a table. 

Obi Wan is sitting in a chair, holding a book, one leg crossed over the other. His hair is dark, the ends sparkling with water in the dim light when he shifts in his seat. You're both wrapped in tunics and full robes, thick socks bound high above your ankles, and yet, you can still feel the chill in the air. 

He'd asked your permission to borrow the book - a high fantasy novel set on the seas of a fictitious planet - and to your amusement, he seems rather engrossed. You sit down in the makeshift sleep roll you'd created out of blankets on the floor, looking up at him. "I didn't expect you to enjoy that one so much."

"Hm?" He glances over the page. "Oh. No, I- it's quite, uh, interesting, but..."

You raise your brows, imagining he's feeling caught out for enjoying something so childish, but he surprises you. 

"I'm having trouble seeing the pages, in this light."

"Oh," you say, understanding now why he'd been staring so intently. "Well, it's much better near the fire. Come sit down here."

He gives an uncertain look through the grated door on the wood stove, and then down to the floor, next to you. "It's alright. I can see well enough, thank you."

You bite your lip, then decide to let it be, picking up a book of your own.

Ninth Hour

"Before I had studied the ways of the Force, the mountains were mountains and the waters were waters. When my knowledge of the universe became more intimate, I saw that mountains were not mountains and waters not waters. But now I have come to know the truth and can be at peace. I see that mountains are mountains again and waters once again are waters."

You blink at the page of the copied Jedi text before you, eyes growing heavy. Obi Wan is lying above you, now, spread long and lean over one of your couches. Actually, it's more of a chaise lounge. He'd dragged it over, closer to the light of the fire, and you'd sat down in front of it.

You turn to look at him, finally looking a bit more relaxed, one arm behind his head as his eyes slide down the page. You're close enough to hold your book up for him to see. 

"Have you read this one?" you ask, indicating the first paragraph of the longer text. 

He turns his head a little, angling himself to see the page. "I think it's safe to say I've read all of them, young one. I was assigned to the archives more than most padawans." He finishes reading, then flicks his gaze to you. "And perhaps I should have assigned you there more often. That passage as well known as the 'empty cup'."

You're sorely tempted to roll your eyes. "I'm aware. Just trying to be polite. I just really like that one."

He's quiet for a beat. "It's a good passage."

"Yes, it is," you say absently, turning the page. "One of my favorites."

You go on reading for a while, then speak again without looking up from the page. "Perhaps you'd care to share one of your favorites?"

You turn back to look at him and he places the book he'd been reading down on his chest. "Alright," he says, reaching out as you hand him your book. "Which one is this?"

"Poetics IV, Farseeker," you tell him, handing it up. "...but I thought you might have known that, Master."

He lifts his brows just a bit at your smirk, then turns his attention back to to book, paging through it, skimming for a few minutes while you sink into the comfort of the blankets surrounding you. 

"Ah, here. I've always thought this one interesting," he says, and you feel him shifting on the chaise behind you to get into a better position. 

"A single bundle of thread is made up of innumerable strands..." he begins, voice a bit smoother and deeper than it had been before. "but, if they are joined in a rope and laid down on a plank, they can easily be cut with one stroke of a sharp blade..."

The rich lull of his voice pushes you deeper into the blankets, and soon your eyes fall shut. His softly spoken words interspersed with the crackling of the fire is almost melodic. 

"...as many as the threads may be, they can not resist the singular blade. So we come to the truth: the threads of selfishness, of mistrust, of passion, are cut by the diamond of wisdom..."

Fourteenth Hour

You stir, pressing your nose into the warmth of his robes. He makes a humming sound deep in his chest, breathing softly into your hair. The warmth of it tickles your neck, and makes you open your eyes.

You flinch, breath stuck in your throat as you pull back. 

You sit up, shivering in the darkness. The fire is almost out. You stand up to stoke the embers and feed a few logs back into the stove. The sound of the door closing makes Obi Wan roll over to his other side, his breathing soft and steady. 

You look down at the floor, realizing you'd had to cross over several feet to get into his bedding. 

You must have been very cold.

You drag your blankets a little further away, then crawl back into your makeshift bed. 

 

Thirty-Second Hour

It's pitch black outside, now. The day cycle has turned fully to night, and after spending the morning eating, talking, and cleaning out your kitchen, and the evening mediating, there's nothing left to do but read until you're tired enough for bed. Obi Wan is lying down on his back, in front of the fire. You light another candle, then join him. 

The smell of him mixed with the smoky scent of the fire is... making it difficult to concentrate on your book. You're starting the same paragraph for the fourth time when he clears his throat softly. 

"Perhaps tonight, we should take shifts, to watch the fire. It nearly went out last night."

You freeze. "That's a good idea."

He says nothing more, and you lie still while your heart races. If he'd known the fire was low, he'd been awake. How much had he been awake for? 

"You... noticed that."

"I did," he says slowly. "By the time I noticed it, though, you'd already gotten up to fix it."

You're certain he can hear the blood thrumming in your ears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake. I didn't mean to... to..." You start over, totally unsure what to say, but knowing you have to say something. "I was asleep when I must have rolled over, and...gotten into your bed."

He'd been watching you struggle to speak with a curious look, but finally, understanding seems to dawn on him. "Oh. I... had thought it was intentional."

The thoughts in your head run over a cliff. 

"It was cold," he offers. 

You have no idea what to say, blinking in embarrassment. "It wasn't intentional."

You'd found it difficult to concentrate on your book before, but now it's nearly impossible. You turn the pages a little longer, finally giving up and deciding to meditate instead. You close your eyes.

When you open them, you feel warm, and you feel safe, and once again, you realize you've curled into his arms. 

But you don't pull away this time. This time, you just... stay. You rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, shifting your fingers in his robes. Feeling the heat between your bodies. 

It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. None of this matters, because in two days he'll be gone from your life.  

What's the difference whether you dream of holding him like this, or if you simply let it happen? He'll plague your thoughts either way. 

You feel the rise and fall of his chest change its rhythm. He swallows, and you realize he's waking up. You lie still, then tilt your head up to look at him. 

"Cold again?" he asks, and it hangs between you. An open invitation for you to move away and pretend it's all been a misunderstanding. But you don't. 

"No."

The howling wind outside is the only sound, distant and ominous, as you stay motionless against his chest. Then he softly brings a hand to your face, gliding the back of his thumb down your jawline. 

You could cry, the way his skin meets yours with such tenderness, without hesitation. You can feel the tension in his force signature, bleeding through although he's suppressing it. 

"Go to sleep," he tells you. "We will get through this. It will be over soon."

"I know," you say immediately, his hand leaving your skin and making you give in to boldness. "And when it's over?"

"We've already discussed it," he says tightly, and you can feel the muscles of his arm behind you tense. He's not quite lying it down, not quite touching you. "We agreed, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did. After this, we won't see each other. So," you whisper into the thick fabric covering his undershirt. "I want to be honest. I don't want to lie to you anymore."

"Is this wise?" he asks, his words gentle but his gaze intense. 

"There is always wisdom in truth," you answer, knowing he'll recognize the words he's told you many times.

"I want you. It's terrible how much I want you. But I think it could be easier if I didn't have to pretend that I don't."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, but the shifting emotions in his eyes speak for him. "Then you should not pretend. Not for me."

You desperately want him to reach down and kiss you, but he stays still, as you knew he would. You let out a silent sigh, resting your ear to his chest. His signature is mostly hidden from you, but he can't disguise the rapid beating of his heart. "I think it's been more for me." 

"There is no need to hide your feelings," he murmurs. "But there is every need not to act on them."

You know he's right, but hearing him say it just makes it so much worse. And in some ways, it stokes the heat inside you even higher. Your leg is already nudging against him, and some depraved part of you is dying to lift your knee and hook it over him, to spread yourself open, to touch him in any way he'll allow it. 

But the larger part of you, the part that knows right from wrong, tells your body to roll onto your back, and you do. 

His arm lifts around you to let you separate, and you both stare upward, listening to the fire and the storm.

After so much time passes that you're not sure if he's asleep, you whisper one last thought that's been tormenting you for a very, very long time. "It's just a shame. For all we've been through, even the pleasure of breaking our vows... we didn't even get that." 

He stirs beside you, head turning slightly, but he doesn't answer. 

"If we had to break our vows, I'm just sorry we didn't even get to remember it."

Carefully, you turn to read his expression. His eyes are downcast. "I seem to remember much more than you do."

"I know," you whisper, a thrill that you know you shouldn't feel running through you. You're on edge, like you're trying not to frighten off a wild animal, with every word you shouldn't be saying. 

"If you wish," he says, voice forcedly calm, "I could show you."

The words hang in the air; low, heavy, dangerous. You part your lips with some effort. 

"Show me."

He rolls to his side, facing you, and wordlessly places a fingertip to your temple. It isn't necessary to form a bond through the force, but it helps.

Before he closes his eyes, and before you close yours, you feel it passing between you - an unspoken acknowledgement. What you're doing is precisely on the edge of sin and salvation, just teetering on the illicit line; a line which has been crossed and uncrossed so many times between you that you've lost count. 

You close your eyes anyway. 

The image is pristine. So real between sight and sound that you can hardly distinguish it from reality.

Your skin is on his skin. Sweaty, brazen, unashamed. You're lying naked on your back, and he's beneath you, pants unfastened, inside of you.

You squeeze your eyelids tight, overwhelmed and instantly aching between your legs.

He drags his cock slowly from you, one hand splayed across your stomach, holding you steady on top of him. Your body shudders involuntarily, imagining the pressure of his head moving from deep inside to pressing shallowly within you. 

"Tempted me for too long," the Obi Wan in the vision growls, voice surrounding both your ears as if he's speaking from everywhere at once. 

Then he pushes back in, hot and slick. "So tell me," he says, pulling out and sinking into you over and over, "Now. Tell me how you wanted this." 

"I wanted this," your voice comes - bare, powerless. Like you're clinging to him, adrift and keeping yourself afloat by saying anything he asks. 

He gives a long, tortured groan. "No, not just this." He drives into you, pulls out, coated and sliding so perfectly between your legs. "Say it."

"Oh, fuck," you moan, trembling against him, sounding too distracted to answer. 

"Young one," he warns, quickening the pace just slightly as he wraps one hand around your neck, tilting your chin upward as he spreads his fingers out, feeling your pulse skyrocket as he tightens. "Do as you're told."

"I wanted this, Obi Wan. Wanted you inside me. Wanted you to fuck me," you answer him, words spilling out of you without pause. "Wanted this forever."

The hand on your stomach has moved to your hip, now, gripping you to stop you from moving. He's writhing beneath you, and even from this perspective, from the catch in his breath, from the wet sounds in the room, you can tell he's gone from fucking you to pounding into you. 

"You've done this to me," he rasps, the muscles of his arm flexing between your breasts as he squeezes your neck tighter. "Do you understand that? You will answer for it."

You nod against him and he sinks his teeth into your neck, burying his moan in your skin. 

He's about to fucking cum, you realize.

Why had he started the vision here, of all places? Was he trying to make you lose your mind?

His thrusts are getting deeper, harder, staying buried longer, and, there- you hear it in the open-mouthed choke of his voice. You see it in the way he drives up into you and stays there. He's-

Obi Wan breaks the bond, bright and vivid imagery bursting into nothingness, fizzling right before you.

You blink, eyes falling open to meet his own. His lips are parted, his face as flushed as yours must be. You take in a breath, and it occurs to you how empty your lungs had been.

He straightens his shoulders, but he doesn't move away. His eyes dip down to your lips, then swiftly back up to your eyes. "I must tell you that what I said..." he pauses for far too long. "It wasn't true, of course."

"I know," your response is automatic. You're unsure precisely to what he's referring, but you want to reassure him.

"Shall I stop?" he asks the question softly, but his voice is too rough for him to feign innocence, now. "Or would you like to keep going?"

There's some shame in your breathless answer, and no doubt he hears it. No doubt he feels it, too. But it's outweighed by scraping, seething, agonizing want that's been buried for so long. 

"More," you tell him, never more certain of anything. "Don't stop."

There's conflict in his gaze, but the same animal you've been fighting wins out within him, too, and he closes his eyes once more. 

--

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch

Masterlist // Next Chapter >>

[drdemonprince]

Look I understand that at the federal level we're cooked because we don't have a good third option but voting on a state and local level will help out peoples lives. We can see this with how abortion rights were enshrined in blue states and how places like Minnesota got children free lunch. We can't just decolonize the system overnight so I think it's the most practical thing to do is vote for the best change possible on levels where you're the most effected while working for more.

It's not that we lack a good or viable third option, the problem runs far deeper and more systemically than that. The system is set up such that no alternative option that is actually challenging to the status quo can exist -- the way election financing works and the structure of majority/minority leadership in houses and senates makes having a meaningful third party presence impossible.

As for the possible influence at the local election level, in some ways I am with you. I voted for an increase to funding for the forest reserve. I felt good when that passed. I voted for increased funding for homeless people -- it never materialized. Even when welfare packages pass, they rarely do materialize as promised because there is no way to hold the government accountable for carrying out the people's will.

I voted for the mayor that was less pro-cop. It hasn't kept police from brutalizing protestors all over this city all year long. He put in a few more bike lanes which I guess some people find an adequate enough reason to continue to be complicit within the present system. But my feeling is that every goddamned time that I convince myself that I should participate to try and move the needle, that I should lower my standards and accept even a modicum of improved treatment by the state, I wind up being bait-and-switched even further and having to accept even smaller table scraps than the crumbs I'd already been offered. And I see so many dedicated, passionate leftist people pouring hundreds of hours every year into campaigning for Democratic politicians who pull shit like this, and helping them raise copious amounts of funds that exist only to help them keep getting elected and doing fuck all.

if you wanna walk up to the polls on election day and pay attention to whats happening down ballot that's your business. im glad my alderwoman is the less pro-gentrification one than the other guy that used to be in office. she's still pro gentrification and building $1400 a month high rises all over the neighborhood. none of this is acceptable and the forward creep of economic displacement is still happening, it just has a happier face on it. and it always will because that's what the system is and does.

the deeper problem is that once people invest any hope in a system that is hopelessly oppressive, they tend to also funnel a lot of attention toward electoral politics and campaigning when that money and time would be a lot better spend like, just giving food to homeless people on your block or babysitting a neighbors kids or planting some vegetables or like anything else thats actually community minded.

[shhh-secret-time]

Kenny McCormick

27 y.o (He/They)

Soul Synergy: Flowers grow on your skin wherever you soulmates been injured.

Headcanons:

¤ The only reason he's able to go to college is because of Kevin.

》 Kevin goes into the military as soon as he can, since then he's put money to the side for Kenny and Karen

¤ Kenny still works multiple jobs at a time to give back. Feels like he can't just accept the money

¤ He didn't actually go into college until he was old enough to adopt Karen, he couldn't leave her behind

¤ Going for Robotics/Mechanical Engineering

》 I always saw Kenny as the kind of guy who is a savant at things he cares about, so even though he's not a great test taker he's phenomenal in the field

》 He's the kinda guy that stays up until three in the morning going down the Wiki rabbit hole. Next time someone hangs out with him he's going on about snail facts.

¤ If he ever does find the time to himself he spends it on his car.

¤ Bought an old police car from the scrap yard and has been working on it since

¤ Once he gets it up and going he uses it for street racing, earns a little extra cash that way

¤ Absolutely does everything in his power to keep Karen away from that scene

》 She eventually finds out and starts going to watch his races, cheering her brother on

》 His number one fan (I'm crying)

¤ Keeps his parents at an arms length. To the point they don't even know where Kenny and Karen moved to

¤ When Kevin comes home they visit him often. The siblings get together for holidays, birthdays, and breaks.

¤ They moved into the same apartment complexes as Stan and Kyle. They're upstairs neighbors

¤ Will jump down from his balcony to theirs when he comes over, instead of using the front door like a normal person

¤ It isn't until he starts street racing that he joins Stan's board game nights. Now that he's got the extra time

¤ Loves DnD night, but he's the kind of player that's absolutely silly. Has lost two characters already

》 Is the best role player at the table! Has made the table burst into tears over the death of his characters

》 Makes these dorky guys and then makes you fall in love with them.

》》 Definitely flirts with his friends, claims it's in character.

¤ He'll drive Karen anywhere she wants to go until she gets her license. He doesn't want to be her parent but he can't help but worry

¤ His phone is cracked to hell, but he doesn't really care. As long as he can see the screen well enough and make calls it's fine

¤ He collects bottle caps, he doesn't know when it started but he likes picking them up and turning them into pins.

¤ Started using mint/candy tins to keep his stuff in. They fit in his pockets easier

》 In the tin: pair of headphones, chapstick, lighter, a note from Karen, stickers, and a really cool rock he found

¤ Probably has another tin that has sewing supplies, he still has a habit of sewing things back together rather than getting rid of them

¤ His Heelyz are his favorite pair of shoes. He wears them every time he's about to race, says they bring him good luck

》 They were a Christmas gift from Stan, it's the only reason he owns them

¤ Usually has rags covered in oil or grease tucked in his pants, the chain on his pants has little charms. Things Karen has made him and keys.

¤ He had three piercings on the shell of his ear, but when Kevin left for the military he took it out and gave it to him.

》 Said he'll put it back in when his brother comes home.

¤ He's trying to stop smoking but it's a losing battle.

¤ He's still running around as Mysterion with his inability to die.

¤ The power changes as he gets older. He now wakes up wherever he deems home to be. It's not something he can choose, it's what his heart thinks home is

¤ So he wakes up on the couch of his little living room, Karen sleeping in her room.

¤ His body reverses back to when he first got his Soul Synergy

¤ Kenny doesn't get his Soul Synergy until he's in his late twenties.

¤ Doesn't really know why it took so long for it to show up but he's not complaining

¤ I don't think he freaks out when he first sees plants push through his skin

¤ It's alarming for sure, but he just kind of looks at it

¤ It isn't until he notices the scars on his body left from the plant don't go away that he takes it seriously

¤ He tries to keep some of the plants, but he doesn't exactly have the knowledge on how to take care of some of these plants

¤ He gets a little sad when they die

¤ When he finds his soulmate he's more attentive to his body

》 Not just where the flowers grow from, but he's better at taking care of himself

¤ He can't stop being Mysterion. He knows people still need him, and he needs this, but he's not as reckless with his body.

He's sitting in class, zoning out again. Whatever the professor was going on about was a distant thought. The tired behind his eyes weighed him down. He had his head leaned back against the wall, his hood pulled up to add a little extra comfort. Trying to stay awake, he's bouncing his leg. The motion doing very little to keep him awake.

But the sleepy blonde doesn't stay that way for long. The familiar feeling of plants pushing their way from under his skin up into the surface wakes him. He sits up almost in an instant when an orchid breaks the flesh, poking out of his mask. From the side of face, another one blooms and stretches out towards the sun.

No blood. But the side of his face stings, the feeling of a handprint buzzes where the petals touch.

Kenny stands up abruptly, cutting the professor off with little to no care. His hands nearly miss grabbing his bag from the way he beelines it to the door. As fast as his legs carry him, he runs out of the room leaving behind petals, leaves, and the protests of his professor.

(Here's the blank ♡ )

[satansamwriting]

The sleeping headcanons were so cute <3 Can I get hcs of Sub-Zero (and other characters of your choosing) with a gn s/o that can manipulate metal?

Mk Sub-zero with an s/o that can manipulate metal

Hello! I'm glad you enjoyed the sleeping headcanons, I might do other characters if people ask for it. ^^

I'm sorry it took me a while to finish this headcanon, had some stuff to deal with irl. Anyway, I did not know which sub-zero you wanted between Bi-Han or Kuai Liang so I went with my favorite icy boy.

Sadly, I did not write about another character because as you'll see, this headcanon is quite long. I wasn't sure at first how to write someone with the ability to manipulate metal but as I started to write, i got more and more ideas. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the way I decided to go.

I might even continue this in a part 2 or do other characters in another post if people are interested.

Anyway, as always I hope you beautiful people enjoy this headcanon and don't hesitate to send request :)

Disclaimer : English is not my native language, there might be mistakes in this. I apologizes for them.Oh and I'm still fairly knew to Mortal Kombat if you could believe it! I don't know everything there is to know about Mk so if I say thing that don't make sense, I do apologies.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Sub-zero (Kuai Liang)

0o0o0o0o0o0

Ever since you were little, you had the ability to manipulate metal as if it was clay, shaping the element into anything that came into your mind. 

This ability came with a strange connection to the elements.

You could sense which metal was present, or if there were flaws or vulnerability upon touching an object. 

Your reputation as a blacksmith grew over the years, to no one's surprise.

One day, the SF approached you with a deal to work for them.

The idea of helping to protect Earthrealm made you accept the deal

You almost regretted it once you arrived at their camp. 

Too much bad quality metal could be found in the soldiers gears and weapons. 

You were astonished that some of those men and women wore what you would consider scrap. 

Sadly, even as you voiced your concern to the higher up you were supposed to report to, they seemed to ignore you. 

Create weapons and gears for them with the provided materials.

That’s all you were supposed to do.

You met Kuai Liang as you stomped off the tent. Bumping into him by accident, you kept on walking too pissed off to acknowledge the cryomaster.

You were determined to show those assholes how right you were.

Kuai Liang had heard of you before.

He was intrigued by your ability.

Sadly as busy as he was, he didn’t have the time to seek you out 

Until one day, the two of you met again

Closed off inside their own little forge the special force had the courtesy to give them, (y/n) spent days waiting for the perfect moment to show everyone the mockery of armour they were wearing as protection. A piece of borrowed chestplate laid on a table in front of them. Scattered around the object were sheets of papers each filled with analysis and ideas. It didn’t take long for them to find the perfect metal to use and with the help of one of their secret contacts, they soon found their table filled with titanium ingots.Days changed into nights as they poured their heart and soul into these new sets of gears, making sure they were exact replicas of what the special force was currently using. 

After days of work, news of the Grand Master of the Lin Kuei's visiting spread around the camp. It was said that he was there to train some of the soldiers.Thinking it would be the perfect opportunity, they dusted themselves and carefully put on each piece of the newly improved armour before leaving the forge. 

Droplets of rain fell upon the camp turning the dirt ground into mud. Splashing noise accompanied their footsteps as they marched toward the training ground. Soldiers stepped out of their ways as they went. 

Sounds of fighting grew louder as they approached and soon they could see the men and women duelling each other under the supervising gaze of the Lin Kuei Grand Master. To their pleasure, the soldiers were also wearing their equipment. (Y/n) eyes roamed around those fighting, searching. One man stood out amongst the others. He was cocky and full of himself. Perfect!

Standing on the sideline, they waited for him to finish his current fight. The man ended the other pretty quickly and even had the audacity to brag about how great he was. A glance toward the cryomancer confirmed that (y/n) was not the only one annoyed by him. 

Kuai Liang raised an eyebrow as he watched (y/n) approach the overconfident man. They weren’t part of the training and therefore Liang should’ve asked them to leave. However, the cryomancer was curious about them. Their brief meeting and (y/n) reputation had piqued his interest. He knew of their work outside of the special force but had never seen it first-hand. This was his chance.

“Well well well what do we have here? You came to get your ass kick, blacksmith?”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes as they took a defensive stance in front of the man. Their eyes stared at the chestplate of the man's tactical vest. That was their goal. If it was anything like the one they studied in their forge, that thing was on the verge of breaking.

Unsurprisingly, the man charged toward (y/n) without thinking first. His punches and kicks were easily avoided, offering so many opportunities for (y/n) to touch his chest. Wincing at the poor state of the metal within the protective gear, they backed away.

"You should consider changing that chestplate, it won't protect anymore."

The man scuffed and spat on the ground clearly disregarding their warning. 

Heavy rain settled as the two kombatant circled each other, the world surrounding them long forgotten. As they exchanged hit after hit, the man grew annoyed. Contrary to the others he had fought, they had yet to be defeated. Even more, they seemed to anticipate his every move. In one particular vicious attack, (y/n) placed both their hands on their chestplate and raised them to block the incoming punch. The man’s fist collided with a small shield that had somewhat materialised out of nowhere. Growling, he watched as the shield transformed back into (y/n) chestplate.

From his observing post, Kuai Liang crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were glued to the blacksmith. They had complete mastery of the fight. In someone else’s eyes it wouldn’t appear so, but as he watched (y/n) avoid yet another punch from the soldier, Kuai Liang knew. The blacksmith could have won this fight early on but for some reason kept going. 

Ducking to avoid a high kick, (y/n) took a handful of mud. One swift sweep kick, they knocked the man down, throwing the mud in his face, blinding him for a short while. 

Swearing left the man’s mouth in plenty as he tried to regain his sight.Distracted, he left his whole chest area unguarded.Using the distraction to their advantage, they landed a powerful punch on the left side of the chestplate.

For a moment, the man stared at them while trying his best not to laugh.Some of the mud slipped down his cheeks.

“Was that the best you could do?”

Standing straight, (y/n) pointed toward his chest, where small cracks started to appear before a large piece of his chestplate fell to the ground. To the man's horror, and amusement of (y/n),  his gear broke down completely. Stunted in place, the man failed to notice them approaching, a knife created by the fallen parts in hand. Only with the pressure of the tip of the knife near his heart did he focus back on them.

"Let it be a lesson for you, your arrogance will get you killed. That and the garbage gears the special force is giving you."

Removing their own chestplate, they threw it toward the soldier.

“If you want to survive in the war, pass by my tent. I will make you real gears that will protect your life.Not like those pretty decorations you soldiers are currently wearing.”

They turned toward the Grand Master, bowed politely and left the training ground. 

//////

Hours later, a line of soldiers was formed outside of the blacksmith tent. Talk about the poor quality of the soldiers' equipment had spread around the camp like wildfires. Soon, even the higher-ups, who had denied their request, had to break and allow the blacksmith the resources they needed. After days of tireless work, every armour and weapons had been updated, leaving them with no more work. 

One cloudless night as (y/n) busied themselves with new weapon design, a man entered their tent. Glancing up from their papers, the blacksmith straightened up and gave the Grand Master a courtesy bow. 

“Grand Master, to what do I own your visit?”

Bowing in return, Kuai Liang looked around, his eyes observing the various weapons, guns and gears scattered across the tent. His face as expressionless as ever focused back on them before speaking.

“ You are a great fighter and a talented blacksmith-'' He started while his fingers brushed over a long spear near the entrance of the tent. “The Lin Kuei could benefit from your talent.”

Silence fell between the two only for it to be broken by laughter. From where they stood, (y/n) tried their best to regain their serious posture as they were a bit worried their laughing would be misinterpreted. 

“My apologies Grand Master-”

“Kuai Liang.” The cryomancer interjected. 

“My apologies Grand Master Liang, my laughing was not to make fun of you. I’m just a bit surprised.”

Leaning against the table behind them, (y/n) crossed their arms over their chest. In the many years they had worked as a blacksmith, they had encountered the Lin Kuei once before. Back then, they didn’t have a specific place to stay and so they had travelled around the world, offering their talent to those who needed it. 

It was during their short stay in China that they met the infamous clan. A blizzard had been raging outside that day, making it almost impossible for them to leave their temporary settlement. To their utmost surprise, a man had walked in unbothered by the bad weather.  He had offered a job, something that had to do with cyborgs or some short. But (y/n) had declined. The man left shortly after, not before threatening them that they were obliged to accept the offer or die. A day later, words of the blacksmith vanishing spread around the village they had stayed in.

However, that was a long time ago.The man standing here before them was different. He was cold but caring, strict yet open-minded and quite frankly handsome.

“You are not the first Lin Kuei to ask for my talent, if I remember correctly the first one was about cyborgs.”

If (y/n) was meant to see the small flinch traversing Kuai Liang's body, they did not mention it. Uncrossing their arms, they laid their hands on the table in order to appear nonchalant. 

“Besides, I thought you guys had trials or something like that before accepting anyone in the clan?” 

The cryomancer hummed, his shoulder relaxing a little as his dark brown eyes stared at them. 

“Would you consider courtship as trial then?” 

Speechless, (y/n) blinked a few times not knowing how to respond to that. Of all the things the Grand Master could have said, flirting was the least expected. Carefully observing Kuai Liang, they noticed the smile the other man was offering them. He seemed pleased by their reaction. Who knew the Lin Kuei Grand Master could be smooth.  

“Are you seriously asking me this?” A smile of their own, they went around their desk and stood before the cryomancer. “Consider me intrigued, Kuai Liang. Besides, I heard the Lin Kuei temple was a sight to behold.” 

(Y/n) had accepted to join the special force to help protect Earthrealm but left to go help reform a clan thought to be lost. Perhaps, along the way, they would find love.