#essentially if I don’t match it’s going to be a scramble to find something

[doctorweebmd]

in other news tomorrow is match #3 for me and I suicide ranked only my home program. So.

[the-nameless-wacky-inventor]

Bestie..you KNOW that I need to know what Mads' Hand???? Is about XD

SSLDKFJSDLKJ I THINK I'VE ACTUALLY SHARED THIS ONE WITH YOU HELP

Takes place in the Royalty AU, it's essentially just me trying to find a way to get rid of Mads' hand so he matches my main clone one he's based off of. It's the one that this legendary autocorrect moment is from-

Mads got his hand cut off? So sad alexa play hips don't lie.

It's in a border skirmish with St. Canard, the fighting is getting worse so Mads and NFenton went down to deal with it. Things.... didn't go as planned.

The king was chasing off one of the last few stragglers from the clearing when there came a shriek of metal behind him, and a scream of pain that would’ve scared the birds from the trees, if there’d been any that’d stuck around that long. 

In an instant he whipped around,

To see the Mad Ducktor falling off of his horse. 

A soldier from St. Canard stood over him, a wide and malicious grin on his face, sword at the ready to strike his fallen foe once more. 

Almost faster than humanly possible the king had crossed the clearing, intercepting the intruder’s sword right as it plunged down towards Mads’ body. The king surged forward and threw the soldier backwards, standing defensively over Mads.

The soldier smirked one last time, before turning and running back into the trees. 

“Someone follow them, make sure they get out.” The king barked, already twisting around. Instantly three soldiers leapt back on their horses, and were in hot pursuit of the retreating enemies. 

Fenton fell on his knees next to Mads, a hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder. He wasn’t too concerned, he knew Mads could defend himself better than anyone here and was likely not too badly injured. 

Until he saw the amount of blood. 

The king’s eyes instantly widened, looking up to meet Mads’. “What- what happened? Where is all of this coming from?” 

The forest floor was already soaked, it seeped into the dead leaves and stained Mads’ purple cape and clothes. 

Mads gave him a feeble laugh, he already looked pale. “O-oh, it’s fine! It doesn’t hurt that much! I-it did for a second at first, but now I can barely feel it!” He sounded shaky, but genuine. 

It takes a minute for the adrenaline to die down and the pain to catch up with him.

“Help him up, we need to get him to the tent and find a way to stop the bleeding, I don’t know if we can wait for Blue.” 

The three immediately nodded, one already pulling Mads up by his shoulders while the others supported his sides. 

Mads squawked slightly in surprise as they all crowded him at once, and then again when he was sat up so smoothly that Mads was sure he wouldn’t have been able to do it on his own, even when he wasn’t injured. 

However his new position gave him an easy view of his injury, and he froze as he looked down. “Oh.” 

The king put his hand on the side of Mads’ face, directing his head away. “Hey, it’s alright, we can figure it out-” 

“Y-yeah, that’s not good.” Mads’ voice was shakier than ever. 

“I know, but-”

Fenton broke off as Mads suddenly lurched backwards, the soldier holding him up from behind scrambling to keep him from falling all the way back. His arm in Fenton’s hand went slack, and the duck scowled. 

Mads had fainted.

“This is what I was trying to prevent!” The king snapped angrily at the three soldiers. “Just… get him to the tent.” 

Don't know how canon this is going to be to everything, I'm probably gonna have some stories that take place in the future (so after this) where he doesn't have his hand and some where he does (and this never happened). It's just something fun to play around with.

[alexander-thomas]

Most Common Things People Forget to Pack

No one can deny the uncanny feeling we get before locking our door while leaving for a trip. Have I forgotten something? At that time, no matter how hard we think, there isn’t much that we can do.

Because 9 out of 10 times, essential items are easy to overlook when packing for a move. Amidst the chaos of sorting, packing, and organizing, some things inevitably slip through the cracks, leading to last-minute scrambles and unnecessary stress.

Forgetting to pack important items can disrupt your moving process and create confusion during unpacking. Essential documents, toiletries, and everyday necessities are often overlooked, leaving you unprepared in your new home.

Therefore, we took it upon ourselves to make a list of commonly forgotten items and tips to ensure you don’t leave anything behind.

Read on to find out how to keep track of everything and make your move smoother and more organized.

Essential Chargers and Adapters People Often Forget

Who wants to be stuck in an unknown territory without the assistance of their digital devices? Forgetting chargers and adapters can disrupt your digital connectivity during a trip.

Here’s how to avoid this common mistake:

Common Chargers to Pack:

Phone Chargers

Laptop Chargers

Tablet Chargers

Medications and First Aid Supplies Frequently Forgotten

Leaving for a trip means going out of your comfort zone, and most of the time, we are influenced by circumstances that we cannot control. 

Since it's always better to be safe than sorry, packing personal medications and first aid supplies ensures you’re prepared for health issues during your trip.

Medications to Pack:

Prescription Medications

Painkillers

Allergy Relief

First Aid Essentials:

Band-Aids

Antiseptic Cream

Insect Repellent

Tips for Handling Medications:

Pack Extra: Bring enough for the trip, plus a few extra days.

Carry Prescriptions: Have a copy of your prescription or a doctor’s note.

Keep in Original Packaging: Avoid issues at customs.

Personal Toiletries and Care Items Often Forgotten

Booking a hotel is probably the first thing people do while planning a trip. But for people with certain allergies or medical issues, using personal toiletries and care items provided by the hotel could seem the equivalent of gambling. Except this time, it's with their own personal well-being. 

This is why hotels might not always provide personal care items that may not match your preferences.

This is why you have to ensure you pack what you need:

Commonly Forgotten Toiletries:

Contact Lens Solution

Specialty Face Creams

Personal Hygiene Products

Packing Tips:

Create a Toiletry List: Include all daily use items.

Use Travel-Size Containers: Save space and avoid spills.

Check Hotel Amenities: Confirm what’s provided to avoid duplication.

[sdr2lovemail]

Yo!! That ask where the animatronics stays in readers house was so cute!!! I lived it so much can I request a part 2 of it if it's okay, one in where the animatronics have to leave now (I just like having to imagine some of them being dramatic even though , they would still be able to see each other) I love your writing :D!!!! I hope you have a good day/night!!!!!

Hello Anon! Glad you liked it and I hope you're having a nice day as well!

I feel Sun would take leaving the hardest, so this fic is a bi~it more centered around him and Moon. Though, I made sure to give everyone some screen time.

Off topic but my metal playlist really gets the words flowing. Hearing someone scream into a microphone really gets the inspo going.

I hope you enjoy!

A guide on how to get 8 foot tall robots out of your house.

It was six in the morning and you were tired. You were told the truck coming to get the animatronics was coming at 12 pm. But suddenly you got a call and turns out the truck was coming at 8 am! Now here you were trying to scramble to get them packed and ready to leave without waking Gregory. After brewing a cup of coffee, you try to round them up by the door.

“Sun? Where’s your bag?” The animatronics came with their own luggage. It contained their bulky portable chargers, small spare parts, and whatever they deemed essential. Though that stuff was usually just junk.

Seeing that his bag was not next to them, Sun gives the most dramatic gasp.

“Huh??? Wow! My bag is suddenly MISSING! Oh no! Oh no! What a shame! Guess we have to stay here till we find it!” He slumps his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion and covers his face with his hands. “This is just TERRIBLE! I was hoping to get back to the daycare as soon as possible.” Sun peaks his optics through his fingers to look at you, tensing up once seeing your straight face.

“Sun, we work in the same building. I could drop your bag off for you. You’re leaving and getting on that truck with or without it.”

He begins grumbling and then opens the hall closet. They pull out a sky themed duffle bag. “Why do we have to leave?…Oh, I know! What if you just kept us and opened your very own Pizza Plex!”

“Because I’m not made of money, Sun. I can’t even imagine all the legal trouble I’d get into.” You explain and take a long sip of your caffeinated drink.

With a final huff, the daycare attendant goes to sit by the door. You were about to wonder where the others were when the sound of glass shattering answered your question.

Quickly stepping into the kitchen, there stands Chica with her duffle stuffed to the brim. Next to her is what used to be a jar of cookies. She’s staring at you like a deer in headlights.

“Hmmm. How did all this food get into my bag? I think you have a ghost, might wanna get that checked out. Ehehe…” She nervously laughs.

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Pick one thing to bring back.” At your words, Chica quickly begins to decide.

Returning back to your living room, Monty is playing on your console. He seems to be in an intense fighting match online. After a few minutes, Monty is able to K.O them off the stage. The gator triumphantly sets his controller down and kicks his feet up.

“I just can’t lose! No one has beaten me yet!”

“Yeah that’s nice, Monty. Go sit by the door now. The truck will be here soon.” Grabbing the remote, you shut the TV off causing Monty to groan.

“Why can’t you just take us on Sunday. The Pizza Plex doesn’t open until Tuesday.” He groans while leaning back on the couch.

“Don’t act like you’re brand new to this. You know you have to be checked and ready to go on stage. Plus there’s no way you guys would fit in my car. Come on, stop being lazy.”

“Ugh! Fine but you owe me something.” Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Monty walks over to the door.

“Why would I owe him…Whatever, where's Roxy?”

You walk down the halls. Quietly calling for the wolf to not wake Gregory. Speaking of the young boy, you gently open his door to check on him. He’s still asleep, that’s good. You close his door and continue your search for Roxy.

“...-o perfect. They still love you. It’s just business. They would invite you back anytime. Who wouldn’t? Everyone loves to be in your presence.” A very familiar voice comes from your bathroom. You knock on the door and call out to Roxy.

There’s a moment of scrambling before the door is swung open. Roxanne towers over you with a stiff expression. She knew that you heard her talking. That’s so embarrassing! But if you weren’t going to bring it up, she won’t either.

“Hey Hotshot. Just making sure I look my best for when we go back to the Pizza Plex. I mean, I do all the time but it doesn’t hurt to check my hair. Your bathroom has great lighting. We need to go by the door? Great, see you there!” Roxy said all in one breath. She rushes past you to get to the door.

Following her, you see that Freddy was already sitting next to his bag. At least one of them listens to you. Though, for some reason he looks a little sad. His eyes were casted down and his ears were drooped.

“What’s wrong, Freddy? Why are you sad?” You kneel down and set your hand on his shoulder.

“I am so sorry…You told us to be by the door at 6:45, but I got here at 6:50. I did not follow your instructions.”

“Freddy, it’s fine. You didn’t have to be here at exactly 6:45, I just needed you here before 8.”

“What!? How come Fazloser gets a pass when he doesn’t listen! You were so mad at me the one time I didn’t listen!”

“Because Monty, you tried to fight someone’s dad. I’m the one that got demoted for it. And could you please lower your voice, Gregory is sleeping.”

The gator lets out a growl before swinging at your wall. Stopping his fist right before it makes contact. Rolling your eyes at his tantrum, you stand up and look over the animatronics. Let’s see; Freddy, Chica, Roxy, Monty…Where’s Sun?

“Have you guys seen Sun anywhere? They were supposed to be here.”

“The bucket of screws talked about hiding or something stupid like that.” Monty grumbles out.

A scream rings out from Gregory’s room, followed by a thud and a deep grunt. You run over to his room with Freddy close behind. Opening the door, there’s Gregory angrily sitting on his bed and Moon curled up on the ground. The night animatronic is clutching his left eye and there’s a flashlight next to them. Freddy makes his way around Moon to check on Gregory.

“Are you okay, Gregory. Did anything happen Rockstar?” Freddy begins to check over the boy for any injuries.

Moon groans from the floor. “Gee thanks for the concern Fazbear…” You help them up as Gregory begins to explain what happened.

“I just woke up and he was by the foot of my bed. Obviously I had to defend myself so I threw something at them. It was self defense!”

“Uggghhh, Sunnn…I’m gonna choke him out…somehow!” Moon growls. From the inside of their shared coding, Sun is freaking out.

“Gregory, you know not to throw things in the house. Imagine if that was me. I could’ve gotten hurt.” You gently scold while attempting to look at Moon’s eye.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I just got scared.”

“It’s okay, Greg. Now, I gotta bring Moon down to my workshop to look at their eyes. Freddy, I'll see you back at the door. C’mon Moon.”

Stepping out into the lit hallway, Moon takes a minute to shift into Sun. He grips his eye in pain, letting out a whine. “OWWwwww! My eye! I thought if I hid somewhere we could stay longer…I didn’t wanna go…”

Bringing Sun to your workshop, you sigh as he takes a seat. “How about I ask management to let you guys come back sometime. You guys seem to like it here a lot. Maybe when the Pizza Plex is closed again.”

Sun shoots up and brings you into a hug. “REALLY?! You’d do that?! It’s gonna be so much fun! I could bring my good supplies! What flavor of Fizzy Faz do you like? Does Gregory have a favorite crayon? Why not just invite me and Moon and not the others? Ignore that last thing I said!” Like magic, Sun forgets about the throbbing pain in his optic.

“Hold on, I’ll only ask if Moon and I can have a smooth maintenance and you go back to the Pizza Plex without any more complaints.”

Sun instantly sits down practically shaking with excitement. “Yes! Yes! I can do that! Ready when you are!”

You walk to shut off the light and whip out your flashlight. When the lights go out, the mechanical clicking of them switching fills the air. Turning on your flashlight, you see a grumpy Moon. Though their faceplate doesn’t change, their body language says it all.

You shine the light against his eye causing him to jerk back. “Watch where you’re flashing that!” They push the flashlight away from their face.

“I need to see if there’s any damage to your eye. Just turn your sight module off.” Huffing, Moon shuts off his ability to see, the red glow of his eyes go out.

There’s a crack going down the middle of their eye. No one thought to bring eye replacements. This was so coming out of your paycheck.

You pull the light away from their face and the lights of their eyes come back on. “You have a crack going down your left eye. Along with some scratches in your paint. Gregory seemed to have done a number on you. Well, there’s nothing I can do about it here. You’re gonna have to wait until Monday when I come into work.”

With a low groan, Moon gets up from the chair. “I’m gonna get them back. Sun won’t know when. I’m turning off our shared thoughts.” Before you could tell him not to, Moon is up and out of the room. Reaching the hallway, he turns back into Sun.

“Why do I feel like Moon said something bad?”

A knock on your front door is heard throughout the house. Roxy calls out that the truck is here to get them. You walk Sun back to the door and they pick up their bag. Now fully awake, Gregory is there to say his goodbyes as well.

As they leave, the animatronics either give you both a hug, a firm smack on the back, or a grumpy wave.

“I will see you at work, [Name]! Hope to see you as well, Gregory!”

“Seeya Hotshots! You better come and visit us Gregory. Or you’ll be a loser!”

“...Bye…My highscores better be there when I get back! Not like you can beat ‘em, ehehe!”

“Goodbye! Thanks for having us. I’ll make sure to pay you back for all that yummy food!”

“Bye bye friends! I’ll think of even more fun activities to do next time!”

They continue to wave as the back of the truck closes. Soon they begin to make their departure back to the Pizza Plex. With a smile you turn to Gregory.

“I’m going back to bed.”

[akaashisupremacy]

New Beginnings

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. Will you be able to find peace in each other again?

Notes: Gojo Satoru is good-looking, all powerful and beyond good at his job. I’ve always wanted to explore something he struggles with 

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol (wc: 1.3k) tw: mention of blood, infedelity-ish

“Sensei, why are we heading to the infirmary?”

Right after Gojo Satoru arrived at the den Itadori Yuuji was staying, Kiyotaka burst in and whispered something in his ear. Gojo’s eyes widened and he immediately set off with Yuuji tailing him.

“What happened to her?” Gojo exclaims.

The three arrive at the infirmary to see you writhing in pain and screaming in agony. There is dark red blood on your side. Gojo looks like someone had been clawing nails at a chalkboard. He hates to see you like this.

Kiyotaka looks for a healer. Yuuji goes to hide. Gojo tries to undo your makeshift bandages. You’re in a blur of pain.

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

The next thing you remember after your aborted mission is Gojo Satoru’s concerned eyes watching over you. You’re in the Jujutsu Tech infirmary. Your wound is still fresh as hell.

“She’s really beautiful, sensei.” Itadori Yuuji comments quietly from your bedside.

“She is.” Gojo agrees. Your eyes are closed, yet you sense his presence seated on a stool by your bed.

“Is she a former classmate?” Yuuji asks.

“Among other things. She used to be my fiancée too.”

Yuuji probably scrambles at his stance, “Your what????”

Gojo turns to him, “To be clear it wasn’t a love match. We were arranged to be married by our families by 21, but we broke it off.”

Whenever either of you say this, it always leaves more questions than answers.  

Your eyes flicker open. You wince as you try to sit up. Gojo immediately reaches out to aid you. Your hands swat him away.

“Welcome back?” He cheekily greets.

You sniff and look the other way. Why did he have to work here?

Beside him is a young student with pink hair. He must be Yuuji.

“Go get her something to eat from the kitchens.” he tells his student, “Something gentle on the stomach and nutritious enough to get her strength back.”

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

Seeing Gojo Satoru is  a different kind of pain. You once thought you were to be married to this man. Because you knew it was your obligation to your family, you learned to love him.

You both enter Jujutsu Kaisen at 15, Gojo a year ahead. It was the most painful three years of your life. Gojo was a popular and inexorable flirt. His attention span for romances was short although he was never short on female attention.

He cared for you very much. He protected you, assured you and was one of your best friends, but you’ve come to accept that he could never love you romantically or be faithful. He just wasn’t interested.

It hurt you deeply of course. You had tried so hard to love him and he couldn’t do the same for you. Was something wrong with you?  You felt deficient. You took the blame onto yourself.

When you were about to graduate, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Gojo, I’m going back home this Sunday, probably for the last time.” you approached him while he sat on a stone bench. He had just come back from a mission.

“Any reason it sounds so dramatic?’ he raised a brow.

“I’m breaking off our engagement to my clan leader.”

Gojo was so taken aback he didn't know how to react. His mouth hung open.

“You don’t love me and I don’t think you can.” you sighed, looking away.

Gojo fiddled with his hands, “I do, just not romantically.”

It bothered you that he loved you like family. How could you be married to him if he couldn't see you as more than a friend?

“I don’t know why you haven’t come up with this idea yourself honestly.” you frowned. You can feel yourself glaring more intensely than you had wanted to project.

A gentle gust of wind blew by, ruffling the hairs on your head.

“I have,” he quietly admitted, “But I was afraid you’d take it personally and I was trying to find a way to spare you the anguish.”

You shook your head and kicked a pebble, “There’s nothing you can do to spare me.”

“I’ll go with you. If you do this alone, your clan will exile you. Maybe if they see that it’s mutual maybe they’ll be kinder.” he resolved. The arranged marriage was important because it solidified an alliance between your families. Breaking it off meant you were essentially having your own insurgency against your clan.

But they weren’t kinder. You were still exiled. It was hardly a surprise. At least you were relieved of the prospects of loveless marriage.

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

“Can you not watch me eat?” You weakly snap at him.

"I can see you’re still pissed at me.” he acknowledges saintly.

You angrily stuck your spoon on your porridge with all the strength you could muster

“Every time I see you I’m reminded of how I failed to make you love me,” your voice is peeling with emotion, “And how my clan kicked me out because of it.”

Gojo opens his mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. Instead he nods understandingly. He goes to grab you more water.

“Every time I see you hurt like this, it reminds me how I fail at protecting you too.” he murmurs, “I know we’re no longer engaged, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m supposed to keep you from harm.”

He talks with his back away from you, as if you could see through him even without his eyes.

“You didn’t fail at anything,” he continues, “Things couldn’t work out between us because of me. I’ve long since known that I’m not into romantic relationships—at least not in the long term, monogamous way that leads to a wedding and a family. But if I could…I promise…it would be with you.”

“Maybe in a different life.” He adds, reigning in his emotion.

Your face softens at his words. You reach out to hold his hand and he holds you tenderly.

“I didn’t mean to cause you the pain that I have.” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

Tears fall down your eyes. You’ve always carried the blame on yourself. Hearing that from him lifts imaginable weight from your chest. You didn’t realize how badly you needed his apology.

He reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief and wipes away your tears.

“We’ve wasted so many years lost in our own pain.” you mumble back, looking away from him.

“We were too young to deal with the cards that we have been dealt then.” he replies, “You should be kinder to our younger selves.”

He lightly squeezes your hand and for a moment you’re both silent.

“Yeah, I guess I should.” you said with a small smile, “I wish we could press a reset button to start over.”

You hear footsteps entering the infirmary. Itadori Yuuji sees the two of you, hands still entangled in each other. He tries to walk back as if not having seen you.

You both pull away. Strangely you don’t feel embarrassed at all.

“Yuuji, go get a wheelchair. We’re taking our guest for a walk. It’s a beautiful day today.” he instructs, eyes still locked at you. Yuuji nods, glad to be sent away.

He turns to you grinning, “That kid was stunned at how beautiful you are. He told me so on the way back. He only likes Jennifer Lawrence so I guess you’re at par with her.”

You both chuckle and laugh.

“I’ve always wanted to be mistaken for a celebrity.”

“You’re more badass in real life though.” he tilts his head.

“You didn’t need him to get a wheelchair. I can try to walk.” you insist, pushing against the bed rails.

Gojo stands to help you, “The doctor clearly said you need to save your strength. You can walk when we get to the garden.”

“I can’t believe we’re bickering already.” you roll your eyes.

Gojo snorts. You crack a smile. He helps you swing your legs down the bed. Today you start anew, an attempt to reshape how your relationship should’ve been. Today, you finally get some new beginnings.

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

General taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi@holaaaf@glxar@francxsca

Series Taglist: @kageyamakock 

Like this fic? Check out another Gojo fic here.

The rest of the series: Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

Heyyy if you made it this far. Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to see the next chapters 🥺 Writing this fic had me feeling so many typa ways hahahaha and I just need to share it with people. 

[eirikaanemo]

Venti's crush is a sister in the Church of Favonius. That's the entire prompt. Okay, she may have overheard Venti when he asked for the Holy Lyre and maaaaybe she gave it to him (in the name of freedom!), but she probably wouldn't be a sister after that.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.7k Words

Warnings: Eviction? Kinda?

Notes: So, halfway through I remembered "Sister" is a gendered term, so I switched it to "Disciple". Hopefully that still works!

Part 2: His Fight

His Lyre

He first caught your attention while he was doing a street performance. You were walking down the street, minding your own business, when you heard a melody so beautiful that you swore it had to be Barbatos himself. Following your curiosity, you found him performing a ballad for a group of children. His clear tenor painted looks of wonder on their faces as he regaled them with tales of Vanessa and the revolution of freedom.

You couldn’t help but stop to watch as well. He had captivated you as much as he had the children and you didn’t regret a thing. After Vanessa’s tale he sang of the fall of the storm god, the rise of Barbatos, the shaping of the lands, and the rise of Mondstadt. Every song seemed almost more amazing than the last.

It was getting close to evening by the time you were able to free yourself from his spell. Or rather, he stopped casting it. His last few notes rang out and faded into the darkness. You almost didn’t dare to breathe in fear of breaking the serene silence that overtook the scene. Then his eyes opened.

This was your first real chance to get a good look at them as he was usually facing just slightly away from you. Everyone else had gone home, so as he scanned the area, his eyes fell on you. And suddenly all you could see was his eyes. They’re beautiful, you thought to yourself, a hint of blush warming your cheeks.

His braids swayed a bit as he tilted his head curiously and a smile flashed across his lips. “It’s not often I see a Disciple here, tell me, did you like what there was to hear?”

“I did,” you confirmed. “I’m very impressed! It was almost like I was listening to Barbatos himself!”

He looked stunned for a moment, then an odd look crossed his face before he quickly covered it up with a broad smile. “Thanks! I appreciate the sentiment! That’s really quite the compliment.”

You were able to spend the next little while chatting before you had to go, but similar scenes occurred fairly often as time went on. About the tenth time or so he decided that you were friends, which you had no objection to. Though there was always a small twinge in your heart whenever he called you that for some reason.

Along with becoming friends, you started to notice some things. His songs are… very detailed in a way that makes them line up with records that rarely see the light of day. While you do your best to share Barbatos’ gospel of freedom with everyone, some records are just too fragile to be available to the general public. So the Disciples, like you, memorize them and tell them to the worshipers who come to the Cathedral.

However, either on purpose or by accident, most of the time Disciples will mix up little details or paraphrase things or skip over sections in a way that can confuse the story some. But Venti’s songs match every detail shown in the records, and more. You had checked multiple times and it always came out the same way. He was one hundred percent correct, in every song he played.

Then there was his hair. You’d never seen anyone with their hair being tinted at the ends like that. And you couldn’t find the hair dye he used either. And oh boy had you looked. You wanted teal in your hair too dang it! And when you finally asked him where he got it he laughed and said it was natural. How is that fair?

And then there are the times where he just didn’t act quite human. Like forgetting to eat all day without realizing it. Or referring to other people as “humans”, as if he, himself, isn’t human. Or how he only ever wears one outfit. Or the way anemo energy seems to flow through him instead of around him. You wouldn’t even have noticed that last one if it wasn’t for the fact that you are hypersensitive to it due to how you use your anemo vision. From all of that, and more, you can just tell that something isn’t quite what it seems about him.

So when you’re cleaning the cathedral in the back and hear him out himself as Barbatos to Sister Gotelinde something just clicked. Oh, of course he was Barbatos. What else could he possibly be? Too much added up for it to not make sense! Unfortunately by the time you were done reeling from shock Sister Gotelinde had sent him right out the door.

You had caught enough of the conversation, though, that you knew that Venti- no, Barbatos had need of his lyre. So you came up with a plan. This was going to get you in so, so much trouble. But this is what needed to be done. You need to get him his lyre.

It was surprisingly easy to swipe the lyre from its pedestal and avoid the other inhabitants of the Cathedral by taking back passageways. You had almost made it out, you were so close when you suddenly ran into someone.

Holding a hand to the point of impact starting to swell on your forehead, you squint over towards the other group. When your brain registers that you just ran into Venti you gasp and scramble to your feet, still holding the holy lyre to your chest. “Oh my goodness, I’m so, so sorry Venti,” you apologize. “Or, uh, would you prefer I call you Barbatos?”

Your friend blinks once, then twice, dumbstruck by the situation. “Venti is fine,” he scrambles to assure you after a few moments. “How did you know?”

“You weren’t exactly the quietest when speaking with Sister Gotelinde, Venti. And I was cleaning just out of sight. It made a lot more sense than some other explanations for your weird behavior that I’d come up with.” You admit sheepishly. “And I believe this is yours.”

His face lit up as you held the holy lyre out towards him. “The Lyre de Himmel! Thank you so much! See that, Traveler? We didn’t even have to steal it! I promise to do my best to take care of it.” You quirk an eyebrow as the Traveler finishes shaking off the effects of running into you.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and you better.” you tell him pointedly, causing him to giggle nervously. “Besides, the two of you need to go! I… didn’t exactly tell anyone about this. Good luck with Dvalin, Venti, Traveler. May Barbatos be with you!” You called out the last part out of habit.

Moments later you felt a hand clap onto your shoulder. “Dear,” Sister Gotelinde drawled slightly. “Please tell me you didn’t hand our sacred treasure over to that alcoholic bard.” You’re silent for a moment before years of being at the Cathedral won over your common sense. “You know I can’t do that, Sister.”

She sighs from her position behind you and her hand tightens on your shoulder. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much trouble you’re in, especially if it doesn’t come back in one piece.” You gulp.

“Yes, Sister Gotelinde.” You murmur.

“Good, now get back to cleaning.” She instructs you curtly.

Nodding, you turn and walk past her towards where you were cleaning. She continued on, likely going to report the situation to Sister Barbara. You really hope that Venti keeps his promise.

While you try your best to put the situation out of your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to it the whole next day. The nightmare you’d had that night hadn’t helped either. It had been a morbid scene, a broken lyre on the ground with an equally broken Venti as a triumphant Stormterror screeched over their still forms. You’d woken up sweaty.

Logically you knew that Barbatos- no, Venti wouldn’t fall to Stormterror. But the scene still wouldn’t go away. And neither did the awkward feeling that accompanied your usual duties as a disciple. Some of your regular duties were suddenly almost… laughable? You now knew that Barbatos didn’t care about a good chunk of what you did in the Cathedral that some considered absolutely essential.

Your attitude didn’t help your position though, not with everyone now knowing what you did and watching you closely. The day is long and you feel trapped every second of it. Then Venti returns victorious with a broken lyre and everything crumbles around you. You’re kicked out, banned for life, right after him, with a suitcase of your stuff chucked out after you. Even though he ‘fixed it’.

Part of you wants to just lay there and regret your life choices; but you can’t help but smile when Venti reaches a hand out to lift you up, laughing about the irony of the situation. A small smile manages to reach your face as Jean starts chuckling too.

“Don’t worry too much, I know you’ve done a great good for Mondstadt.” She reassures you. “I know you have a vision, an anemo vision at that.” She gives Venti a pointed look. “How would you like to become a knight?”

Your smile grows into something a little more natural. “I’d like that, thank you Jean.”

“It’s no problem, really the least I could do. I’m sorry it had to end like this. Now, come to my office when you have a moment so we can formalize it. But for now I need to go and formally close the Stormterror case.” With a sigh she walked past you towards the knights headquarters and the inevitable paperwork which awaits her.

“I’m sorry that you got kicked out,” Venti apologizes once Jean’s out of sight. “All you did was help and you got in trouble for it.”

“It’s alright, Venti,” you try to claim. “It was kind of awkward knowing that you are Barbatos anyway.”

“Still,” he pressed. “You put everything on the line for me and I really appreciate it. I’m really sorry I didn’t follow through. I’ll have to make it up to you. And I know just where to start.”

His kiss to your cheek was quick but sent a warmth blooming across your face, contrasting with the coolness of his lips.

“Of course,” you mumble, embarrassed. “It was your lyre anyway.”

“It was,” he agreed. “But you believed me. And that really does mean a lot to me. Thank you, really.”

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? Part 2

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

It was your dream to convert a large warehouse on the outskirts of town into a home and education center for Hybrids. Somewhere they could learn to be self-sufficient. You would have professors and volunteers, teaching and fundraising, all for the day you could buy another warehouse on the other side of town. You wanted it to become the norm that these Hybrid facilities would build and grow in every city. Allowing the Hybrids to become an independent race no longer looked down upon by society.

You were on the last day of your heat and craving something savory. As it was late your best option was the convenience store that was always open late.

Things were falling into place as you received an email earlier that day confirming that all the items you had requested were acquired. That meant school books, equipment, and more. You were also granted the first loan for the Hybrids, a loan you would receive every term. The board wanted no less than five and no more than ten participants for an adequate examination of results.

You assumed for the program to be officially approved, you would have to show successful results from Hybrids with different backgrounds during this trial. That meant different ages and different upbringings. Wondering if it was worth visiting the adoption agency or perhaps a Hybrid store, it wouldn’t hurt for more variables.

Shaken from your thoughts by a shadowed figure rustling through the garbage, in a dark alley between the antiques and postal office. Your ears picked up the sound easily, feet scuffing to a halt on the pavement catching the Hybrid’s attention. Their eyes searched the dark for any sign of threat before falling upon you, a deep growl resonating on the wind. It was best to not get involved with stray Hybrids, they tended to be more violent. This is what you were doing the program for, to stop Hybrids from ending up homeless and on the streets. To prove that they aren’t dangerous and are capable of learning.

Struck by an idea, if you could get a Hybrid from the street to join the trial program, you could prove they weren’t violent and show that given the opportunity they could all learn and grow into members of society.

“Can I buy you dinner?” You called out, voice cracking from the cold. Your breath puffed out like smoke visible between you both. The night brought you more energy, it made you feel alive.

Cars passed, their headlights illuminating the entire alleyway and reflecting in his eyes a blood-red. He stalked forward, his body moving gracefully but you could see he was hurt, his shirt ripped and there was a strong scent of blood in the breeze. That was a downside to having heightened senses. You tried to control the disgusted look on your face, “I will pay and there is nothing else to it, just sit and have dinner with me, so I don’t look like a woman in her mid to late twenties eating alone at a convenience store”

He looked you up and down, it was then you noticed his features, he was a feline, not a common house cat. No, he was a big predator.

“Do I look like some charity case? Some pathetic creature who needs help from a human?” His words rumbled from his chest in a growl. You wanted to correct him that you weren’t exactly human yourself but decided against it. Stuck somewhere between Hybrid and human you didn’t fit in either category.

“What’s it to you? My reason is my reason, just take the free meal. Hell! Exploit me for a free meal, anything you want, go crazy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to charm him. He seemed to contemplate his choices for a moment before turning to walk away. You scrambled for your wallet and grabbed out twenty dollars, holding it out to him.

“Wait! At least take this; if you don’t want to eat with me, get something warm, and here is my card if ever you need help.”

He eyed the money but didn’t move to take it. Hoping he wouldn’t rip your arm off, you grabbed his hand. You knew it was risky. His fingers were cold, but you didn’t want to linger and make him mad, quickly placing the money on his palm with your business card.

“Have a good night, mister,” He nodded confused about the whole encounter, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving. It seemed even if you tried your best, it wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. He was too defensive, the best you could hope for was that he would stay safe in the cold.

What trials and tribulations must you go through to have these Hybrids trust and confide in you? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be this hard to get through to the group of Hybrids you were soon to obtain.

This was going to be a rather difficult experiment and you weren’t sure if it was going to go well but you hoped with every fiber of your being that you would see this through for the sake of the Hybrids.

That night you dreamed about the group of participants being hostile and unresponsive to the program, it did little to soothe your nerves the next morning. When you received an email about the new house. Jimin would have the key and would meet you outside later that day with the other Hybrids. No matter who they were, you were going to make sure they were achieving the best result they could.

The government had registered two Hybrids in your name, their files attached to the confirmation email. The two participants were so contrasting, Hoseok was a deer Hybrid, from a small farming family. The other was a Lion Hybrid by the name of Namjoon. He was from New Zealand and had participated in another government program regarding genius Hybrids.

Altogether, there were four: Namjoon the genius, Hoseok the country bumpkin, Taehyung, and Jimin. You decided to look for possible participants within the Hybrid store, and rehoming center. That would give you a wide variety of variables for the experiment; each would have a different background and would require different tools to help them.

You started at the nearest Hybrid shop. There were several rooms each with an observation window, a photo card, and a brief description of the Hybrid sitting, reading or playing video games inside. It was such a small space, how could they live in these tiny rooms every day until someone adopted them. Reading their descriptions by the windows you analyzed each of them, your attention caught by one playing video games. He had dark ears that stuck out from his dark hair. He seemed fun and you thought it would be easy to connect with him.

Hello, My name is Jungkook, I am twenty-three and I am a fully vaccinated Melanistic Jaguar.

You didn’t bother reading the rest, thinking you would like to learn about him properly, “Sir, I would like to adopt this Hybrid,” You declared, whilst walking towards the counter to begin the paperwork. Once everything was signed the young Jaguar boy was led from his small room. He looked nervous holding a small store backpack filled with all his essential items.

On the drive to the next location, you were the one doing most of the talking, receiving quiet one-word answers and small fidgets. He seemed excited when you finally parked the car, you guessed he was eager to see his new home.

However, as you walked towards the menacing rehoming center, he grew quieter and quieter, slowing to a stop before the entrance. Looking at his feet crying profusely, you realized how this must look. He must have thought he had done something wrong, how could he think you would buy him and rehome him on the same day.

“Jungkook, I am not abandoning you, I am picking up a brother for you to play with.” It took a few moments to console the young man. Wiping his tears and giving him a few pats on the head careful of his ears.

Deciding anyone younger than Jungkook would be too much to handle. “You have to help me find a big brother, someone you think will be really nice and that you like to play with, what do you think? Can you do that for me?”

Jungkook nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Okay, I can do that,”

The inside of the rehoming center smelt like disinfectant, you explained you were looking for another Hybrid and were led to a large room. There were Hybrids of all ages all playing and entertaining themselves with different activities.

It was overwhelming even for you, so you grasped Jungkook’s hand and encouraged him to look around, “Hey, what about ping pong?” You grinned at Jungkook who smiled playing a few rounds with you, the two of you giggling.

“Have I told you I am the ping pong master,” an older Hybrid grinned, he had a striped tail. You handed over the paddle and stood near Jungkook. “Do you want to play a game?”

Jungkook nodded, was this boy unable to say no. Either way, the two were getting along quickly, the older Hybrid was very playful and funny, even as he lost you were holding your sides from the laughter and Jungkook seemed to grow really comfortable with him.

Talking to one of the volunteers she explained that Seokjin was a raccoon hybrid and the oldest in the center. She explained that he often took the younger hybrids under his wing. It was an easy decision to adopt him. While you were filling out the paperwork, Jungkook was telling you all about his match with Seokjin.

“And I got the winning shot,” He grinned, swinging his arm like he was hitting an invisible ping pong ball.

“He seems really fun, would he make a good big brother?” It was cute how he nodded wholeheartedly. “Jungkook why don’t you go tell him that he is coming home with us?”

He grew embarrassed again, his dark ears twitching but followed the volunteer nonetheless. You were quick to finish up the last of the paperwork before the two came back laughing volunteer in tow.

“Unbelie-Bubble” Seokjin said before squeaking in laughter. He had all of his things and like Jungkook was nervous, but he showed it through talking.

You felt good with your selection, there was a Hybrid for every walk of life and socio-economic background. This would be perfect for the trial. They all seemed like lovely young Hybrids and you could already see them forming friendships.

It was on your way out that you saw a familiar face struggling against Hybrid control. “This is your last time, you know what happens to strays.”

“Wait!” You shouted, everyone in the lobby froze turning to look at you, the cold room felt quite warm with all of the attention “He is mine”

They froze looking between you and the hybrid before letting him go curiously. The injured Hybrid staggered over to you, knowing this was his best chance at survival, “why didn’t you tell them my name?” you asked him curiously but he kept his head down.

“This white tiger Hybrid is yours?” The handler spoke in disbelief, practically accusing you of lying. “why is he not microchipped, or registered in our system?”

“I was supposed to register him last week when I got him but I had been busy with work, I would like to properly register him under my name today,” You didn’t break under this man's pressure, you could notice the more he held eye contact the more he seemed to falter himself. “so that you will stop taking him in when he is harmlessly walking the streets”

The man opened his mouth to argue but you blinked up at him, watching him lower his hand.

“I am so sorry miss, we didn't mean to cause you trouble?” It wasn’t exactly odd behavior, you often found your arguments nullifying this way. You liked to think that your self-confident stare was what made people give in.

“Miss we have just noticed some suspicious activity in your account it says you have adopted four Hybrids today,” The woman behind the desk said, “We are legally required to ask your intentions or we can detain the Hybrids from you”

Almost questioning her, you remembered the government was placing two Hybrids in your name; they would be arriving today as well. With a smile you removed a folder from your bag, “I have a grant from the government.” You said brandishing the signed document, “I will be placing these Hybrids in my care”

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[so-very-small]

angsty thing for the Unrequited Lovers G/T AU. there are feels, and a lot of them! i might continue this and give them a happy ending at some point tbh, but for now have this mess of feelings

She's perched on his desk, and he's a breath away from her. Heli gently pinches the bandage between two fingertips, his golden eyes scrutinizing the wound on Essa's leg.

It's never quite comfortable having him directly in her space like this, even with how things are now. She figured she'd have gotten used to living with someone twelve times her height, but the pounding in her heart suggests otherwise.

(She trusts him, of course she does, but it's like having a black hole before her.)

(And she feels half ready to just dive in, and half like she should still be running as fast as she could.)

Heli fingers deftly shift, one lifting up her minuscule leg so his pinched fingers can wrap the bandage tight about it. Essa's breath catches in her throat. She's never going to get used to this, so she shuts her eyes and tries to just focus on her breath.

And his breath, washing over her gently, as he leans in a bit more to secure the bandage off.

“There we go,” he whispers. Essa opens her eyes, and finds that Heli didn't move back once finishing his task. He grins at her, his words taking on a teasing lilt. “Were you nervous there?”

(Yes, obviously. You have a mountain fix your burnt leg, and you try not to be nervous, she thinks.)

Essa forces a smile onto her features, and shoves at one of his fingertips.

“Only nervous that you'll mess up my leg even worse,” she says, matching his tone, “Last thing I need is to lose the thing and be stuck with you.”

Heli sits up straight, his height rising a bit as an indignant look crosses his features. Essa feels even smaller from her spot on the table, but doesn't let her casual demeanor slip.

(It isn't exactly hard to keep, though.)

(She's nervous, she'll always be nervous, she figures, but something about Heli just makes her feel... okay.)

“Well,” he says, and he reaches a finger down to poke her chest lightly. It's a little incredible how much control he uses, it doesn't send her off balance, just bumps her the barest amount. “You're already stuck with me. Looks like I win.”

Before she can make a rebuttal, he descends both hands and gently lifts her. Her back thuds against the curve of his fingers, and she finds herself relaxing into his warm skin.

As always, he locks a thumb over her waist, just secure enough so she doesn't jostle about while he moves. Essa brings up a hand to brace herself on the fingertip, feeling the ridges of his thumbprint and focusing on that instead of the sudden rush from him standing to his feet.

Heli draws his hands closer to his chest, and even from the few inches of distance Essa can hear his heartbeat. His breathing is soft, the faintest hint of his shampoo reaches her nose, and she can feel his eyes glancing down at her every couple of seconds.

In the beginning it made her self conscious, being so wrapped up in him, him being large enough he was essentially her world. The pointed attention he'd give her every time they moved, the precision and care he used, it was overwhelming.

(It still is, if Essa's honest.)

(Just, overwhelming good.)

Heli sits down on his bed, turning to deposit Essa carefully on his pillow. She had a bed set up on his nightstand in the beginning, but one late night conversation had led to the realization that if one could sleep on a giant pillow, why wouldn't you? Heli doesn't move much in his sleep anyway, and there's the cold, and also the fact that Essa is delightful at making excuses to herself to be near him.

She grabs her blanket, one of Heli's old shirts, and fixes it over herself. Heli readies for bed next to her, tugging his muscle shirt off and grabbing his comforter.

“Your leg shouldn't take much more time before it's healed,” Heli says. He lays back, his head at the very edge of his pillow so his face is right next to hers. “Gonna have a wicked scar though.”

“I don't mind,” Essa says. She turns onto her side to face him better. “Plus being healed up mean less fussing from you.”

Heli quirks up an eyebrow, turning his head to face her.

“Oh?” he says. He inches his head a little closer, golden eyes almost having to cross to look at her. “You think that?”

“Oh yeah,” Essa says. She watches his features carefully, noting all the little thing she wouldn't see if they were the same size. The slightest quirk of of a grin on his lips, the gears turning in his head. A teasing lilt takes to her words, and she tries to keep the smile off her lips as well. “After this we'll have no reason to talk, obviously. We'll become strangers, and you and your face can stay over on your side of the bed.”

Heli pushes a bit closer.

“Excuse me, ma'am,” he says. He nudges her with the tip of his nose. “I believe it's all my side of the bed.”

He gets closer. One hand comes up behind her to press her into his nose, and a laugh ripples out of Essa's chest, her pretending to put up a fight as he holds her tighter.

“Like I said, you're stuck with me,” Heli says. She can't see it, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

(Essa was terrified of him in the beginning, and she never once thought she'd essentially be cuddling his face.)

(He smells like vanilla and the woods, and she could feel his voice rumble under her skin, his gentle hand holding her close.)

(He feels like everything, and in that moment, there was nowhere else Essa could possibly imagine wanting to be.)

Essa shuts her eyes, and presses her forehead against the bridge of his nose. She's practically spooning it, and he lets out a comfortable hum as he shuts his eyes.

It's warm, and he's surrounding her. Any trace of stress in her small frame seems to evaporate as his fingers shift tighter around her, she relaxes into him, and he lets out a tired sigh.

Essa's safe. She's comfortable, she's content, she loves him, she's happy.

(She loves him.)

She's thrown onto her back as Heli's hand jerks from her, scrambling to stabilize herself on the wobbly surface of the pillow. He moves back, eyes looking down at her like he's never seen her before, and Essa stares up at him.

“What?” he asks.

(He sounds like how he used to, when he was a stranger, not when he held her every night.)

It takes a second, and a hot flush coats Essa's cheeks. She feels her whole body grow warm, and stammers, she never meant to say it out loud.

“You don't mean that,” Heli says.

His voice sounds definitive.

Essa sits up, a crease forming between her brows.

“Don't mean it?”

“You can't.”

A frown crosses her lips.

“Heli... we've been sharing a bed every night. You don't leave me alone, or go anywhere without me. It's been like this for months.”

(A thread in her heart feels like it's unraveling.)

(This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening.)

Heli sits up straight, and the distance to his face from the pillow is even larger than it was from the desk. He brings a hand up to drag it through his red hair, golden eyes darting about the room before landing on her.

“Essa, doll, you got the wrong idea,” he says. He sounds... delicate. Like he's trying to break her heart in a careful way. “You're... you're great and all, but this isn't... we're not-”

(The tug in her chest turns into a snap.)

Her fists ball up in her blanket, and she blinks away any hot tears that threaten to surface.

“So all of this meant nothing to you?”

Her voice is loud in the quiet room.

Heli looks at her, but it's not how he used to. His eyes are soft, but they're cold. A look of something flashes across his face – pity if she had to guess, and she bites down on her lip to keep herself grounded.

“Nothing like that.”

(Whatever's left inside of Essa crumbles.)

She bites her lip harder, only stopping when the tang of iron makes her realize she's drawn blood. Her knuckles are white, fingernails pressing into her palms, and Heli won't stop staring down at her.

“I'm sorry,” he says, softly.

Essa stands, her legs wobbly on the pillow. She turns from him – and only then does she let her tears fall – and she feels stupid at how she has to hold her arms to find balance on the pillow. She walks slowly, ignoring the stiffness in her burned leg.

A hand slams in front of her, knocking her off balance. She lets out a soft hiss of pain as she collapses.

“Essa, wait,” Heli says. He fully blocks her path, all Essa has before her is a palm taller than she is. “Look, let's just forget it and go to bed-”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Heli.”

Her voice is deathly low, and she doesn't even bother turning to look at him.

A second passes.

Heli, saying nothing, draws his hand back.

Essa takes a moment to collect herself, draws a sleeve over her eyes. Eventually she pulls herself together, takes in a breath, and rises to her feet.

Essa leaves.

(Her heart stays behind.)

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report x

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: R-18 | genre: humor, romance, smut (voyeurism, masturbation), swearing

warnings: GET READY FOR SOME ACTIONNNNN 

word count: 1.8k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle​ @btsmakesmehappy

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Right after you put away your groceries, you take a quick shower and head to bed. Truly, there was nothing better than a refreshing shower after a long day - especially when you know you’re not going to be able to enjoy times like these anymore once you start working. Just then, you recall having to set your alarm early tomorrow because it was your first day, plus the other two wanted to meet up for breakfast before heading to work. 

As you lie on your bed, scrolling through your barely active social media accounts, you hear a soft thud coming from Ayoung’s apartment. Huh, she must be moving stuff - seems strange though that she’s doing it with a potential tenant present. You don’t pay much attention to it though until it happens again and suddenly a faint moan reaches your ears. Your eyes widen, thoughts of all sorts running through your head. You must be mistaken. You should be mistaken. 

You hear it again, and it gets repetitive until there’s a steady rhythm that has you certain about something that could be happening there. You’re really not one to meddle with people’s private businesses, especially ones of this particular kind. You push each incoming thought away, regardless if it is an innocent one or not. It proves otherwise though, with the sound coming in clear for a wall separating the two apartments. 

At the same time, you also wish the best for Ayoung and if this man is a moving-away gift in disguise as this one, well you’re incredibly happy for her. Who were you to take that happiness away from her? But as the man’s grunts become more audible and prominent, your immediate reaction to it is beyond you, and you’re almost involuntarily rubbing your thighs together at the sound. 

‘No’, you think to yourself, stopping your southward train of thoughts and its imminent course of action. Rubbing at your temple, you wonder how could you even allow such pompous thoughts cross your mind. 

Groaning, you lie on your stomach and mush your face against your pillow as if to block those indecent images threatening to corrupt your mind. It isn’t right to get off someone else’s steamy evening, more particularly, that of your friend’s, so you close your eyes and focus on trying to get some sleep. 

You can’t. 

Not when this man’s heavy breathing sounds just as hot as Ayoung finds him to be. 

Not when this man sounds just like a porn star. 

And especially not when this man’s vocals are so stimulating to the point that it feels like an invitation for you to join the fun. Or at least, take an imaginary part in it. 

Holy shit. 

Tapping your fingers furiously on the bed covers, you ask yourself if you have really reached this level of desperation? That your lack of human touch is causing you to question the very principle of civility? 

You shake your head as you reach for your earphones. Coincidentally, Spotify’s shuffle decides to land on a Jamie Foxx track. 

What is with the universe constantly trying to fuck you up? 

You tap on the next button quickly, turning the volume all the way up in the hopes of ridding yourself of unclean thoughts, that is, until you hear Satan himself let out a particularly loud grunt, one you can practically feel travel straight to your core. Jesus. 

The voice of your evil miniature self on your left shoulder whispers in your ear, “It isn’t often for you to get ahold of an opportunity like this. Go get some,” she says, holding your angelic self on a chokehold with her own halo. 

She had a point though, and you really could only imagine having more time for yourself starting tomorrow. Besides, it’s been a while since you truly ‘relaxed’. And to top all of that, with the apartment walls as thin as paper, you can literally feel your neighbor’s bed now moving in a steady rhythm. You’re even surprised you’ve managed to keep your self-control this long. Not long enough though, unfortunately. 

Now that you’ve come to think of it, this man must be on a different level entirely if Ayoung could let herself get...dicked down during a simple visit (and for the first time too!). Just imagining what he probably looks like is sending a light tingle down your spine. 

You sigh, ultimately giving into the temptation. There’s no turning back now. 

Slowly, you slide your shorts down your legs, giving yourself time to still contemplate...but, hesitation was never really your strong point (a trait of yours that had truly blossomed since your friendship with Chohee). So off go your underwear too. 

As quietly as possible, you scoot over to the wall, just enough to let your shoulder touch your old, boring, beige wallpaper. You feel your neighbor’s bed move with a little more intensity this time, and you trail your fingers downward to your cunt, which is surely wet by now with all your thinking. 

The man’s grunts are louder than Ayoung’s thankfully, leaving everything to your imagination. You start at a steady pace, wanting to test the waters. With the couple just a mere distance away from you, save the wall separating your apartments, you try to match your pace with the pair. 

Letting your digit circle your clit, you work yourself out to your orgasm - that is, until your climax won’t arrive and you figure just using your fingers won’t get the job done. Just as if you thought the sounds they were making weren’t enough to get you over the edge. It’s been a while since you had any ‘action’ and your rust ass won’t allow you to cum with just your fingers. 

Hurriedly, you draw out a small box from beneath your bed. In haste, you throw the cover across the small room, fishing for what used to be a very good friend of yours before: Lovecorner’s limited edition of Real Feel 7. Never too late to catch up with good ol’ friends. 

You turn on the device, hoping that there’s enough battery left to get you through the night. Closing your eyes, you circle the dildo around your nether lips, gathering all the slick there. A few more moments and you gradually insert the toy inside you, causing you to shiver in excitement. Gulping, you only push it halfway through at first, wanting to get used to the feeling again.. 

There’s a short pause from the other side of the wall, one you use to your advantage to keep up. When you feel them continue, you pick up your pace, both desperation and shame pumping you up so you could get this night over with as quickly as possible. 

Just as you had expected, you feel their breathing get heavier by the second, and your bed is practically shaking with...what you presume to be yours and their movements combined. 

For some reason beyond your understanding, you work yourself out on your trusty companion, taking in every whimper and grunt from the other side of the wall like it’s your own, like you’re the one fucking like there is no tomorrow. 

You’re getting closer to your high - a feeling almost foreign to you at this point, and with the last string of sheer  will, you push the toy further up to the hilt, stroking your g-spot so perfectly that your orgasm has got you quivering in bed for more than thirty seconds. 

Breathless as ever, you lie in bed, staring straight into the ceiling. 

What. Was. That. All. About. 

You press your thighs together, an unexpected reaction from the reality of tonight’s events suddenly dawning in on you. You did not just get yourself off from your neighbor's live porn. 

With no more movement coming from Ayoung’s apartment, you could only assume that their day has officially concluded as well. Sighing, you make your way to your bathroom, treading over your floor as lightly as you could with your sore legs. 

Ten minutes and a refreshing half bath later, you head back to bed, exhaustion causing you to fall asleep in seconds. 

The sound of your jarring iPhone alarm blares right in your ear, scaring the living hell out of you exactly 6:45 in the morning. You wake up in a fright, panting heavily as you scramble to turn off the horrible sound. 

Quickly, you get off of your bed, proceeding with your daily morning routine. You tick off breakfast at home today, having scheduled your morning meal with Jimin and Soomin as your first official day as employees of Woocheon Medical City. 

Making sure you’ve got everything in your duffel bag -  extra clothes, toiletries, and the rest of your essentials, you lock the door to your apartment, sealing it off with a slight jiggle to the knob to assure yourself. 

Ayoung’s door likewise creaks open, and you glance at it through your peripheral vision to see a man coming out. Your eyes widen - he stayed the night then. Hm. You’re unsure if you want to suspect him of something other than a one night stand, or it’s just this curious itch inside you that makes you want to check who’s responsible for last night’s...occurrences. 

Mustering all that courageous chi Chohee has hopefully transferred onto you, you linger a little bit by your doorway before facing the man. Thankfully, the stranger doesn’t make your job difficult for you and looks your way as well. 

No. 

This can’t be. 

Turns out, Mr. Stranger who was supposed to be your hot neighbor as Ayoung claims is no stranger at all. 

It had to be. 

You look away just as quickly as you looked at him. “________? Hey!  I didn’t know you lived next door!” Your lips form a thin line. Why does he make it sound like you’re already neighbors? 

“Jungkook,” you nod to answer his question.  “Good morning to you too.”

Your cheeks heat up with the range of emotions you’re feeling: anger - from him not even remembering Ayoung’s name; shame - for your actions last night; disappointment - there’s a possibility of you two becoming neighbors and you’d inevitably have to face him more often than not. 

“Where are you off to? Gym?” 

Why does he think you’re going to gym in a collared shirt, jeans, and flats? And more importantly, why are you two even having this conversation? 

The elevator doors open and your impromptu escape plan springs into action, and currently, just like your legs. “Work actually! And I’m going to be late, so bye for now!” You sprint towards the elevator, quickly pressing a button to close the doors. 

You let out a sigh of relief as the doors close, leaving Jungkook with a confused look on his face. 

© joontier 2021

[forcefully-awoken]

This was a request you can find here. It was meant to be a shorter 1k drabble but it ran away from me since i liked the idea so much.

Rating: E

Hizashi x F! Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings for: audio exhibitionism, dubcon, slight regular exhibitionism, piercings galore, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), as always if I missed something please let me know!

Hizashi always had such a way with words. 

Ever since you’d met him way back in high school- he was so smooth talking, so very confident in himself and what he was saying that it was almost too easy to find yourself wrapped up in whatever he was saying. It’s how you now found yourself naked on the small couch that resides in the recording studio inside his home. He’s got three long fingers inside of you already, assuring you that you’ll need to be this prepared to take his cock. 

He strips himself once he’s wrung two orgasms out of you already, and once you get an eyeful of how long his cock is, in all it’s pierced glory, you think two might still not be enough. He sits down on the couch, letting you straddle him with shaky legs. One of his hands holds you steady on your waist, the other lines himself up with your weeping slit. You can feel the head of him rub through your juices, nudge at your clit, causing you to jump. He rubs himself around it once, until you finally break and beg for him.

“‘Zashi, please, fuck me,” Your words trail off into a whine as he suddenly thrusts himself up into you. Your legs give out, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He uses the wiry muscles he keeps hidden in his hero outfit to manhandle you the way he wants. He bounces you up and down and you can feel the once cold mental of his piercing stimulating you. His noises are minimum, save for a couple of soft moans. You, on the other hand, can’t seem to shut up- haven’t been able to all night, not with the way Hizashi has been pleasuring you. 

“Oh god, oh god, please, right there,” You babble, hands gripping onto his shoulders tightly. “You feel so good, Hizashi!”

“Call me by my hero name, baby,” He says. It throws you for a loop for a brief moment but you continue on anyways. Some heroes like that, you figure, though you’re not quite sure why. 

“Present Mic!” His hero name leaves your mouth in nearly a scream, and you can see the smile on his face now. He grinds himself up into you, feeling larger than life in so many ways. You think the tip of his cock might brush your cervix, but his long, nimble fingers find your clit before you can spare too many thoughts. He rubs a circle around it one, two, three times, and then it’s all over for you. You’re cumming around him, pussy squeezing him so tightly it’s almost painful for the both of you. You keep moaning out his hero name though, just as he requested. 

His fingers stop moving around your clit, though they don’t leave it yet. He waits for a moment, still buried inside of you, for you to stop trembling in his arms. Once you seem well enough to continue you he does just that, moving you down underneath him and continuing to fuck you until you’re squirting around him. Only then does he finally, finally pull out and cum himself, all over you. 

Through it all you never notice the red light on the recording station.

Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought you’d hear from Hizashi again. 

It’s not as if he was the type to hit it and quit it, as some might say, but you had barely spoken to him in high school. You had only occasionally spoken after it. You figured the night you spent together was just him trying to get some sort of itch out of his system, perhaps a small crush he wanted to explore but didn’t really have the time for. 

It’s why his text message to you is so shocking. He’s having a party, he tells you, to celebrate the release of his new song (you hadn’t realized he had put one out recently). Not only are you invited, no he wants you to be the guest of honor! You’re not the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not when it comes to an infamous Present Mic party. You dutifully clear your schedule for the next day at work even, having heard enough stories to make you realize you might need to sleep it off. 

The night rolls around, and you go all out when you doll yourself up for it. A nice, skin tight dress in your favorite color, heels to match. You take extra care with your makeup, though you know the lights will be too dim to truly appreciate it. Hizashi is even so nice to send a car for you, something that makes you feel truly like a celebrity. You get there with ease, grabbing a drink from the bar as soon as you arrive for some liquid courage. You don’t know a lot of the people there- or, well, anybody besides Hizashi, you realize as you look around the packed venue. 

There’s posters all around with the single’s cover art. Just a woman’s lips, painted red and open in the most obscene way, with Present Mic written in cursive script on the tongue. Not your usual sort of thing, but apparently it’s Hizashi’s. You awkwardly down your first drink and are halfway through the second when he finally finds you. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting little listener!” His arms wrap around you easily, like you two were the closest of friends. He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek, which you can feel heat up. “Come on, I wanted to give you a private listen first!” Something about it nagged in the back of your mind but you allowed yourself to be drug away, to the back of the venue. There’s a small private room there, what you thought at first glance might be a security booth. There was one glass wall, darkened so you couldn’t see into the room but you could easily see out. 

It was almost too lush in the room for you. Despite it being in the back of what was essentially a club, it looked like it was made for sin. There was an overly large couch pushed to the back, all dark red velvet and big enough for multiple people to lay down on. The room was barely lit, and there was a stripper pole on a raised platform in the middle of it. You shot a questioning glance back to Hizashi but he just ushered you in and closed the door behind him, locking it when your back was turned. 

“This is certainly fancier than the last room you had me in,” You blame the alcohol you’ve consumed for the poor phrasing of it all but if Hizashi notices anything weird he doesn’t mention it. He sits next to you on the couch, so close your bodies are pressed together- thigh to thigh, arm to arm. You can feel yourself heat up in other places when you feel his skin on yours. He’s pulling his phone out though, along with tugging a pair of little earbuds out. He offers them both to you, and without question you place them both into your ears. They block out the world immediately, until you can only hear your own breathing. 

Slowly the music starts to trickle in through them, first the low rumble of the bass before a voice breaks through it. It was a female voice, distorted but still recognizable to you. The woman was screaming Present Mic over and over, and there was just enough of noise in the background to let the listener know exactly why she was screaming it. 

It was your voice. 

Despite the embarrassment that slammed into you like a truck, you could feel yourself growing wet between your thighs. This was apparently what Hizashi had wanted from you- to hear you in your most intimate moments so he could use it for his music. Part of you felt violated, he hadn’t even asked if you would be okay with this! You yanked one ear bud out, hearing the music out of it still. Before you could open your mouth to argue his mouth was on yours, his hands pressing you back against the couch. 

Your hands come up to curl around his shoulders, trying hard to push him off of you, but his arms hold you close to him. His mouth leaves yours to kiss and suck down your neck. You can’t seem to twist away from him, not at this angle. He’s pressed you back all the way now, laying you down flat. 

“Stop, Hizashi!” Your words lack bite when he sucks a hickey onto your collarbone, drawing a moan out of you as well. “This is serious! You should have asked me!” Your words seem to have no effect on him, and how could they? Your body is reacting against you, writhing underneath him, legs spreading as much as they can to accommodate him. Your hands are pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. 

“Let me make it up to you, then,” He mumbles against your skin, and moves so quickly you miss what he does. He’s down between your legs in a flash, hiking your skirt up and yanking your underwear down. Your eyes dart nervously over to the glass wall but nobody seems to be looking at you. You bite your lip, lost in thought as Hizashi stares up at you. He waits, though you watch his tongue flash out to lick his lips. You push aside any of your doubts, knowing you can bring them up later. One deep inhale and you spread your legs for him. 

It’s all the consent he needs, diving into your cunt like a man starved. He used his fingers to spread you open for him, pressing his lips to your clit, his tongue rolling the sensitive nub around, letting you feel the piercing as you had before. Your legs kick out in pleasure, as it runs through you like a lightning bolt. It was hard to be mad at him when he was able to draw you to orgasm so quickly. The knot that you felt forming in your stomach was already beginning to fray. 

And, once he slid his tongue into you, pressing u p with that little metal ball right over your sweet spot, you’re gone. Your back arches, hands scrambling for purchase on the couch, in his hair, in your own, wherever you can grip. Distantly, you can still hear the one earbud still playing the music, but it’s unintelligible to you now. Your own moans are increasing in volume, as Hizashi doesn’t stop moving his tongue inside of you.  Your hand finds its way to cover your mouth, trying to hold it all in but Hizashi doesn’t let you. 

“Take your hand away from your mouth, now,” It’s a demand, and the coldest you’ve ever heard his voice. It’s intense, and sends a shiver down your spine. You hesitate to obey him, eyes flicking over again to the people just outside the room but he doesn’t back down, “Let me hear your noises. They’ll think it’s the song.” Once both your hands are tangled into his hair he returns to what he was doing, letting you grind down on his face. You feel his mouth move back up your clit, pulling it between his lips again and then there’s… a sensation of vibration. You feel the small piercing pressed up against you but it seems to be shaking, and all rational thought flees your head as it does. You can feel this orgasm rush out of you, juices covering his face, your thighs, the couch beneath you. He keeps it up until you beg for him to stop. 

He barely gives you a breather, pulling his cock out before crawling over you. He grabs the back of your knees, pushing your legs forward until they meet your chest. He’s able to slide into you with no resistance, your tight heat sucking him in as he does. He grunts when he bottoms out, holding himself there for a moment before pulling back out to slam into you. He keeps this pace up for longer than you thought, pulling out so just the tip is in before splitting you open once more. You think someone might try to find him, but nobody comes looking. He continues like this, ruining you for any other man like it’s just a casual night out for him. 

His fingers find your clit, his pace never faltering. As he rubs your clit you tighten impossibly more around him, finding your last orgasm of the night. He pushes himself all the way into you, feeling the way your walls squeeze and contract around him, milking his cock for everything. You cum with a screaming, hearing already how hoarse your voice has become. He moans loudly, filling you with cum. Both of you are panting by the end of it, your legs shaking in his arms.

Hizashi groans when he pulls out of you, setting your legs down gently on the couch. He goes so far as to help you into your underwear again, like that will stop the cum leaking out of you. You know you’re going to have to find some way to leave the party now, unsteady legs be damned. You push yourself up into a seated position, finally meeting his eyes to speak. 

“You know, you can’t just fuck your way out of this,” Your throat is raw and scratchy as you speak, and you take a sip of your now watered down drink. The burn of the alcohol hardly helps but it makes you feel better anyways. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Didn’t want to put pressure on you,” He replies as he tucks himself away, “Wanted to hear your moans baby, alllll you.” You don’t want to admit that he has a point. Had you known he was recording you would have been quieter, more aware of how loud you were being. He takes your silence as agreement, leaning down to kiss you once more. 

“How about I take you back to my place and we work on another collaboration?”

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 9

A/N: Well. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys, but this story just...wasn’t coming to me for a while. But now we’re back and I am so excited. Since it has been over a year and a half since I updated this one, please forgive us if there are a few details that aren’t perfect from the first chapters. Feels good to be writing my babies again.

Written with @tacmc.

Rowan woke up to the smell of cooking bacon and fresh coffee and he sighed contentedly. It had been two days since the hit that put him out of commission. He was hoping the rest and relaxation he’d enjoyed with his girlfriend would handle it, but it seemed that his body was protesting its natural healing process.

He groaned as he rolled out of Aelin’s bed, smiling when he found Lumi curled up in the hoodie he’d left in her chair in the corner. After giving her a scratch behind the ears, though the cat pretended he didn’t exist, he padded out into the living room, finding Aelin at the stove quietly humming to herself.

“Good morning,” he said, yawning as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down.

Aelin turned, and he was once agIn floored by how gorgeous she was, straight out of bed. That first night, when the fire alarms had pulled them all from sleep, he’d been convinced she’d scrambled to do her makeup before coming out onto the lawn. Waking up next to her two days in a row had proven to him that she was naturally beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning,” she smiled and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Hurting today?”

“Aye,” he said, stretching his arms in the air. He felt every muscle tense in his upper body and before he could say the words, Aelin beat him to it.

“I think you need to give the team trainer a call today,” she said, placing a plate full of bacon on the counter next to her.

Rowan stared at it, wanting to reach over and snag a piece, but was fairly sure she’d catch him when he grunted in pain trying to lift it. Plus, she was dumping nearly a dozen eggs into a skillet to scramble, so he was hoping she’d be feeding him soon enough. He nodded. “I was going to do that today. I was texting with him last night and he said he and the massage therapist could come here today.”

Aelin smiled. “That would be perfect. I have to go

to work in about an hour, so I’ll feel better knowing someone is here with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m a grown man, right? Lived on my own for about seven years?”

Aelin stuck out her tongue and continued cooking at the stove, before setting a plate down in front of him piled high with eggs, hashbrowns and crispy bacon.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked, as she slid onto the stool next to him.

She smirked and said, “Once or twice, but don’t worry. I’ve got a drunk voicemail to listen to if I ever forget.”

She winked and Rowan felt his cheeks heat, but regardless, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead and began to eat.

After his second full helping breakfast, Aelin got Rowan set up on the couch, babying him the entire time, much to his dismay, and he sent a text to the trainer asking him to call him when he got to the arena that morning. Aelin was getting ready and Rowan was playing NHL on his Xbox when the trainer finally called him back.

“Hey, man,” Rowan answered, pausing the game and propping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

Dorian’s voice came through the receiver. “How ya feeling?”

Rowan groaned as he rotated one of his shoulders. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

With a snort, Dorian chuckled. “Have you seen most of the Pirates’ team? They’re ridiculous; all of them are huge, freaks of nature. Rolfe is no exception.”

With a nod, Rowan cringed. He hadn’t realized the captain of the Skull’s Bay Pirates had been the one to lay the hit on him. “Well, whenever you and Sorscha have time, I’d appreciate it if you could make a house call.” There was silence on the other side of the line. “Dor?”

“Sorscha’s last day was Thursday of last week, I had no clue you didn’t know,” he explained. “The new therapist started yesterday.”

“Oh.” Sorscha had been the team’s massage therapist for years and Rowan vaguely remembered rumors that she’d be leaving them. He just never had them confirmed. “That’s fine, how’s the new guy?”

“She is...a piece of work,” Dorian admitted with a sigh. “You’ll meet her when we come by. You free for us to head that way?”

“Yeah, man, the sooner you get me back in working order, the sooner I can get back on the ice,” Rowan replied, debating on saying something about the home game they had that night.

With a chuckle, Dorian said, “Don’t even think about it, man. You’re not playing tonight. We’ll leave in just a bit and see you soon.”

The call ended and Rowan dropped his phone on the couch. He looked at the clock and hollered, “What time are you off tonight, Ace?”

She poked her head out of her bedroom and said, “Four o’clock, why?”

“Wanna go to the game with me?”

Aelin blinked at him. “You aren’t playing, Ro.”

“No,” he said, standing and stretching - and groaning. “But we can go sit in the player’s box and watch.”

“You want to sit next to me for an entire hockey game and hear my commentary?” She asked, grinning.

Rowan’s grin matched hers as he held out a hand, stepping towards her. She placed her hand in his and he gently pulled her towards him. “I promise I won’t be thinking too much about the game with you there with me.”

Aelin ran her palms down Rowan’s chest. “Well, that’s a tough argument.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll go with me then?”

Aelin nibbled on her lip as she nodded. “If you get your ass on the couch and promise to take it easy today.”

He groaned softly. “Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him once more and turning back to finish getting ready. “You also have to make an appointment with your trainer.”

“He’s on his way with the sports therapist now,” Rowan said, watching her walk back to her room, enjoying every step she took. He really did try to focus on more than just her ass, but the leggings she wore weren’t helping his cause. When she looked back at him as she paused in the doorway, he had just enough time that she didn’t catch him - not that he thought she’d mind.

“Looks like we’ve got a game to go to then,” she winked, and disappeared into the bedroom.

About thirty minutes after Aelin left for the café, Rowan’s phone rang. “Hey, man. You here?”

His trainer and friend’s usually cheery voice was distinctly pissy. “Open up, Whitethorn. I’ve been knocking on your door for two minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowan was up on his feet with a quiet grunt and ran to the door throwing it open. Dorian stood in front of his own apartment door, down the hall. He called, “Sorry, man, I’m staying with my girlfriend.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re Aelin’s boyfriend?”

Rowan paused and blinked. “Uh, aye? You know her?”

“I grew up with her, we’ve been friends for years,” Dorian said, the light tone returning. “I told the therapist your apartment number and she’s grabbing her table from the car. I should probably call her-.”

“No, it’s fine, I need to grab a few things from my place anyways,” he shrugged, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door. “We can set up in there so I don’t have to move Aelin’s furniture around.”

Dorian snorted. “Good call.”

Rowan unlocked his apartment and let Dorian in, turning on the lights and carefully moving things out of the way. Painfully.

He grabbed one of his least destroyed game worn jerseys and tossed it over his shoulder. He very much wanted to see her wearing it. “Aelin’s coming to the game tonight,” he said, grinning.

Dorian shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

Rowan’s grin only widened.

“Hey, uh, can I come in and see Fleetfoot?” Dorian asked, looking out toward the hallway.

Rowan blinked and said, “I mean, sure.”

They headed back down the hall to Aelin’s apartment, leaving Rowan’s door open for the therapist to carry her gear in. As soon as they entered the apartment, Fleetfoot was bounding towards Dorian, excited like Rowan had never seen her.

Glancing up at Rowan while he rubbed her belly, Dorian grinned. “I gave her to Aelin our junior year of college. I promised if she got all A’s on her finals, I’d get her puppy. Guess who got straight A’s the entire semester?”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh, smiling and shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Dorian’s phone chimed and he stood, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh she’s all set up and ready for you. Just head back down here when you’re done and we’ll talk about getting you on the ice again.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Rowan said and left, heading for his own apartment. The door was shut now, but he assumed it was just for privacy. He’d had to get sports massages before. They were basically a glorified regular massage. They focused on specific muscles groups, some quite intimate and quite awkward, but for the most part the etiquette was the same.

A dim room, quiet music or white noise of some sort, a special table covered in a white sheet, and the fact that you typically undress and are under just a towel.

Suddenly, Rowan froze with his hand halfway extended toward his doorknob, as he realized he was about to essentially be naked, alone in his apartment, with a woman he’d never met, as she rubbed her hands all over his body.

He’d had to get sports massages before. Just never while he’d had a girlfriend.

Maybe he should ask Dorian to come in and talk while she worked on him.

With a sigh, Rowan realized he was overthinking things. This was her job and he was judging her before he’d even met her. She was probably extremely professional and he was worrying for no reason.

With a shake of his head, he entered his apartment and asked, “Hello?”

A young woman rounded the corner, wiping her damp hands on a paper towel. Her long, black hair was braided back, and by the time her obsidian eyes met Rowan’s, he was frozen in place. For a moment, she didn’t react, and Rowan couldn’t breathe.

And then her eyes lit up and a small grin spread on her thin, red lips. His blood ran cold. He swallowed. “Maeve. What...the hell are you doing here?”

“Ah, Rowan Whitethorn,” she cooed. “We meet again.”

[seventeenwrites]

Catharsis - Chapter Two

-> Group: The Boyz

-> Type: Short Series

-> Member(s) of Interest: Sunwoo

-> Word Count: ~2.9k

-> Genre: angst, fluff, apocalypse au

-> Warnings: alien apocalypse, guns/weapons, blood, violence, death, cursing, female MC

-> Playlist: Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne; All Right Now by Angel Olsen; Saccharine by Atta Boy; Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka

-> a/n: Hey guys! Here's chapter two! Again, I want to emphasize that my goal with this series is to portray a kind of love which transcends any kind of labels we’ve assigned to love (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.). It may seem a bit hard-and-fast, but I think that is a reflection of the world around these characters. When you don’t know if you will live to see another day, when you are surrounded by death and tragedy, you live and you love without regrets, or at least you try your damnedest to.

Catharsis.

And then, fortunately, my eyes opened. Now, this wasn’t fortunate because I was alive, but rather because of the way I was alive. The fire that had separated Sunwoo and I the night before had died, but the coals were still glowing, so that they could easily be re-ignited. Just beyond the pit lay Sunwoo, still sleeping. One of his shoes had been thrown six feet away in the middle of the night, and his left arm was almost completely smothering his face.

Before I had time to laugh at him, a voice interrupted me.

“Oh, Ari! I’m assuming Sunny filled you in last night.” I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, to find the same man who had yelled at us the night before. Jacob, right? When not puffy-faced and half-asleep, he was much better-looking. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes popped out and his cheekbones were raised nonetheless, in a way that reminded me of my mother's face in her youth. Next to Jacob was another man, who I could immediately tell was the leader of whatever this place was. His nose high on his face and his brow heavy, he was reminiscent of a Renaissance sculpture, elegantly beautiful, yet intimidatingly powerful. He was also impressively clean; everything from his ears to his nail beds were devoid of even a single smudge of dirt.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think so,” I said, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself, suddenly self-conscious of my dirty T-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Good. Sangyeon and I are gonna go collect more firewood. There’s berries and nuts in those if you get hungry.” Jacob pointed to a collection of miscellaneous containers by the centermost tent. Wooden crates, mason jars, old metal lunch boxes decorated with superheroes and princesses, even a piggy bank. Resourceful. Smart, I thought to myself. I turned back to the two men, to find that Jacob had already started walking away. Sangyeon still stood before me and assessed me for a few seconds, slightly nodding his head and furrowing his brow.

“We’ll be back,” he said before slinging a backpack over one shoulder and following Jacob out of the camp. I didn’t blame him. If I was running a camp and one of my members suddenly showed up with a random girl, I would be suspicious, too.

As the day got brighter, more of the members woke up and came to greet me, and I got to know more about who these people were and how this place worked. There was Kevin, who came out of the same tent as Jacob, and who was a self-proclaimed genius chef, but judging by the defined musculature on his small figure, he was useful for more than his culinary skills. In the next tent there was Changmin and Chanhee, who seemed to be attached at the hip; they were both lean, perfect for long-distance running. The next tent housed Eric and Haknyeon, who were both robust and muscular, obvious fighters. The last tent was home to Juyeon, Younghoon, and Hyunjae, who entered last and were all visibly athletic, with their long and sturdy physiques. I had finally figured it out. This place was a powerhouse. No Echo would be a match for these boys.

“Always tardy, huh, sleepyheads?” Changmin jested towards the last three to join our circle around the dead fire.

“SHHH!” Eric suddenly play-whispered, “You’ll wake the baby.” He pointed towards Sunwoo’s still-sleeping figure.

“Eric, you’re literally younger than him,” Kevin laughed while trying to catch berries in his mouth, and failing. Hilariously.

“By like eight months!” Eric shouted, a slight pout donning his face.

“That’s pretty significant, if you ask me.” We all looked down at Sunwoo, whose arm was still covering his eyes, but whose mouth was visibly quivering to maintain a laugh. He peeked out beneath his arm to see what Eric’s response would be, but Haknyeon was already holding Eric back.

“Okay, babies. Let’s calm down. Jacob and Sangyeon will be back soon and I’m sure they’ll have food.” Juyeon hushed-- his voice had a way of calming the boys down that could only have been achieved through years of trust and reliability. His voice and the mention of food seemed to lull the pretend conflict, and pretty soon, side conversations enveloped the entire group. I sat and watched Sunwoo. He was chatting with Kevin who was right next to him, and he was laughing at something, his head thrown back. I found myself smiling. Two smiles in 24 hours. That’s gotta be a record.

Sunwoo’s eyes met mine and I felt my heart leap. He excused himself from his conversation and walked over to sit next to me, placing his hand on top of mine. Again, I noted just how soft his hands were. And warm too, compared to the frigid morning air. As if feeling his warmth made me colder, a shiver traveled down my spine.

“Cold?” Sunwoo asked. I nodded in reply. “Let me in there, then,” he said, pointing at my blanket. I opened it and he stuck himself into my arms, grabbing them to close on top of him. He was warm. Physically, but he also warmed me from the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after playing in the snow, or getting a hug from your mom after your first piano recital. He felt like home.

-------

When Jacob and Sangyeon came back, they were dragging a deer behind them, backpacks chock full of firewood. The boys all scrambled up excitedly; I could only make out random interjections and complaints about hunger from the younger ones.

“You’ll finally get to see me in action, Ari,” Kevin quipped, gathering random tools and ingredients to cook the deer with.

Sangyeon walked up to Sunwoo and I, placing his bag by his feet and looking me up and down, just like he had before he left. Still suspicious of me, I guess. He turned his eyes to the boy next to me, looking him up and down as well, and started, “Go get some water from the stream, will you?”

“Sangyeon, come on! It’s been three weeks already, surely I can do something else?”

“Sunny, I’m sorry, but your legs obviously just not healed yet.”

Sunwoo looked as though he was going to protest again, but Jacob cut in before he could: “Doctor’s orders, bud. I’ll take a look at it again later today.”

Shoulders slumped, Sunwoo dramatically sighed and grabbed my hand, dragging me along with him.

“I’ve been on water duty for three weeks, now. I mean, I understand. They care about me; they want me to be safe, and the path to the stream is clear and short-- almost impossible to get hurt. But like, come on. Three weeks of getting water. I’m sick of this damn path!” He joked, swatting a vine out of his way.

“What happened to your leg, anyway?” I asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” I quickly added, suddenly afraid that it was too personal.

Sunwoo stopped in his tracks, looking at the ground. I could see the wheels turning in his head, as if he was trying to figure out how much of himself to reveal to me. He sighed and let go of my hand, turning to face me. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at me, the morning sunlight shining only on the right half of his face.

“It was about two months ago. A few of us were out looking for clothes and other essentials. We figured we’d go about ten miles east and get to the city that used to be there, hit all of the convenience stores and shopping malls. But we strayed too far from camp, and we got lost on our way back. By sundown we were in the middle of the woods with no shelter, no food, nothing.

“We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Those bastards were wearing our own faces. We couldn’t tell who was real and who was an Echo. Hyunjae did this to me,” he said, referencing his injured ankle, “Pushed me into a big tree trunk. I forgive him, obviously. It was crazy, and he was trying to protect himself. That same night…” he trailed off.

I could tell that he was about to cry, since he was starting to choke on his words, “That same night, I-- I killed one of our guys. Didn’t know it was him until it was too late, until he was already bleeding red. I shot him. He was flailing around all crazy-like with his knife. I didn’t know if he was him or an Echo, so I shot him. I should've-- I should’ve shot his foot, or his hand, to see his blood. But I didn’t. I got him right underneath the heart. Missed it by a hair. So I held him as he went. For thirteen minutes, I held him. I looked him in the eyes as the life left ‘em and I held his hands as they went limp. That poor fucking bastard, I’m so sorry to him.”

Sunwoo was crying. It was a cry I had never seen or heard from a human before. It was absolutely, heart-wrenchingly tragic, and the only thing I could do for him was hold him. I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that he was still a good person, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that I loved him, because he knew that, too.

I didn’t tell him that his member was in a better place, because we both knew it wasn’t true.

-------

When we got to the stream, we were holding hands again. Sunwoo was still wiping tears off of his face with his free hand, but he was smiling again.

“Whaddya say, Ari? Care for a little dip before we head back?” Sunwoo teased, rocking his shoulders as if to say I’m joking, but if you’re down, then I’m really fucking down.

“Fine, kid,” I chortled, “but only because that water looks deliciously crisp right now.”

I turned away to place all of the water buckets on the ground, and when I turned back, Sunwoo was standing a yard or two away, facing the water. He reached down and took his shirt off in a swift and seamless motion, one which seemed to me only men were capable of performing. The sunlight kissed his skin, illuminating its smooth and tanned surface. The shadows of his shoulder blades danced across his back as he attempted to balance on a stepping stone. The gentle slope of his neck blended seamlessly into the crease of his spine which traveled all the way down his back, like a book that I never wanted to stop reading. His arms, outstretched in a balancing act, were lean, yet capable and sturdy shooting arms, slightly different in size as a reflection of his right-handedness.

He turned around to look at me, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were still bloodshot and puffy from crying, and his face still splotchy, but his smile-- his smile was brighter than the light of any sun. I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my life. I smiled back at him, and I felt my own eyes start to well up with tears.

“Come on, Ari! This stream isn’t gonna skinny-dip itself!” Forgiving his slightly awkward--yet adorable--phrasing, I accepted his challenge, jumping in with him.

As our heads both emerged, we held hands under the water, my thumb rubbing the soft skin of his. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of my ear, before settling his face into the crook of my neck. And then, again, we felt like nothing more than an extension of the earth below our feet and the sky above our heads.

Catharsis.

-------

Sunwoo and I arrived back at camp and we were met with ten horrified faces. To be fair, we looked an absolute mess. Our clothes were sopping wet, hanging off of our bodies like rags. As our feet had been too wet to put our shoes back on, we walked back barefoot, as evidenced by the dirt, mud, and scratches littering our ankles and calves. Our hair, like something out of a horror movie, dangling in front of our faces in stringy and curly sections.

“Sunny! What the heck, dude?” Jacob cried, staring in shock at Sunwoo’s now dirty and tattered bandage on his ankle. Sunwoo half-smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Cobie. You should’ve seen the stream today! It was so beautiful; we just had to swim in it!” He replied, a slight pout on his lips.

Chanhee was sitting at the fire a few feet away, a sly smile engulfing his face. “Oh sure,” he teased, “Swimming. I bet that’s all you two were doing.” He puckered his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, a type of mockery I hadn’t seen since high school. I couldn’t help but giggle at him, even if he was jumping to conclusions, and incorrect ones, at that.

Sunwoo and I hadn’t kissed. We didn’t need to, and maybe we never would. We only needed to hold each other. And frankly, that’s all I wanted to do for the rest of my days.

As Jacob unwrapped the bandage from Sunwoo’s ankle, his smile faltered for a second before he replaced it. I knew that look. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What is it?” Jacob looked at me, contemplating, then turned to Sunwoo and sighed. He resumed his faux angry persona from earlier, resembling a loving parent.

“This is why I told you to be careful, Sunny! The wound must have reopened at some point, and you got it dirty when you were out there. It should be fine if we wash it and dress it with herbs, but you’re gonna have to stay off of it for longer-- and no more playing in dirt, for Christ’s sake, Sunny.” Sunwoo looked like a child getting scolded for tracking dirt into the house, but I could see the twinkle of mischief still ever-bright in his innocent eyes.

Sangyeon walked over to us, still as reserved and stoic as ever. He looked me over as he always did, eyes filled with suspicion and piqued interest. He turned to Jacob, who I had figured out was something of a second-in-command.

“We’ve received word of a pack about a mile west. We should head out now, while it’s still bright out,” he turned to look at Sunwoo, still talking to Jacob“This is sort of an all-hands-on-deck situation. Is he okay to shoot?”

Sunwoo replied for Jacob by standing up, still young and eager to prove himself, “I’m fine, I promise! I’m not in pain, and my ankle won’t affect my shooting if I’m sniping. Sir.” Sangyeon looked Sunwoo up and down, slightly nodding his head, then reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t get hurt again, buddy. We can’t lose anyone else.” That was the first time I had seen Sangyeon let his guard down, and I even saw a tear slip out of the corner of his left eye. Sunwoo bit his lip in an attempt to suppress the tears he had already let go that morning. Sangyeon was quick to wipe it and resume his cold air, though, and he turned to look at me, unsure of what to do with me.

“What do you mean you received word? And why are you seeking out Echoes? Shouldn’t we be, like, hiding from them?” I asked.

Sangyeon stared at me again. “I hear you’re good with a knife.”

“Not good. Excellent.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving my questions unanswered, to which I looked at Sunwoo in disbelief.

A slight smile spread across Sunwoo’s face and he started walking towards one of the smaller tents, expecting me to follow him. When I walked in, I saw more radios than I had ever seen in my life. Old ones that couldn’t have been less than 60 years old, the ones that were built into flashlights, walkie talkies, even old car radios.

“Kid, what the hell is this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“This, Ari, is anything that can send or receive signals through the next hundred miles. Over the year and a half we’ve been here, we’ve found all of them.”

“B--But why?”

“So we can get them before they get us. There are lots of us out there, we send word to each other if we see or hear of Echoes that we can’t get ourselves.”

The wheels in my head were turning so quickly, and I still couldn’t understand it.

“So-- So you guys actually… hunt Echoes? You don’t just run from them?”

“That’s right. And we’re gonna keep hunting them. Until every one of those bastards is six feet under.”

It all finally made sense. How organized and resourceful they all were. How skilled they all were at fighting. The hierarchy and positions they all assumed, with Sangyeon at the top. This wasn’t a camp.

It was a machine. An Echo-hunting machine.

[e-milieeee]

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)—Marichat

Summary: Chat Noir has the annoying habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he's concentrating. Marinette hates that she finds it (and him) ridiculously cute.

Now all she has to do is get through the denial.

Notes: For @emsylcatac! Happy birthday, even if I’m a bit late. I know you’re a Ladynoir stan but... it’s Marichat May+Chat blepping :D 

(The last scene is also inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @australet789! I couldn’t resist sneaking it in lol) 

Or click here to read on AO3! 

tongue-tied (hearts entwined) 

The first time Marinette notices the habit, she brushes it off.

Chat Noir sits on the balcony with her as he attempts to disentangle a ball of yarn from his body. He had claimed that no, he hadn’t in fact been chasing it and it was most definitely not his fault (meaning that it most likely was).

Now, he is wrapped like a Christmas present in neon yellow string. Marinette refuses to help him, so Chat yanks and pulls and stretches the yarn with utmost focus—all with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Marinette watches him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her presence and only continues in his concentration. His tongue does not return to its rightful place (out of sight, out of mind)—it continues to stick out in the most obnoxiously adorable way ever and Marinette is almost tempted to tell him to shove it back in so she can stop finding him cute.

Before she can do so, Chat Noir lets out a groan. His tongue swipes over his lips and disappears, to Marinette’s relief (and disappointment). “Cataclysm,” he grumbles under his breath.

With that, he cataclysms the yarn to free himself. It falls to black dust all around him like ashes.

“What?” Chat asks when he sees her staring. “It was efficient. Don’t look at me like that.”

Marinette blinks and shakes her head. Had she found him cute just a moment ago? No, she decides. Obnoxious, maybe, but definitely not cute.

(No way.)

***

It happens a couple more times before Marinette realizes that it’s become a problem.

They’re playing video games in her room, an odd little routine they’ve developed. Chat Noir is surprisingly enthusiastic about beating her in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, which, so far, he has not been able to do.

Marinette makes the mistake of sneaking a glance at him in the middle of a match. He’s holding the controller, staring at the screen with the same intensity he often directs at akumas, and, best—no, worst of all, his tongue is sticking out of his mouth again.

She stares at him for a little too long. A little too long turns to really, really too long, because Marinette is only snapped out of her thoughts when Chat Noir throws his hands up with a triumphant whoop. “I won!” he crows at her, and Marinette turns to look at the screen in dismay.

Sure enough, he had finally bested her. The stats flash across the screen—he’d only won by a margin, but he had won nonetheless, breaking her streak of eighteen wins and zero defeats. Now, a red 1 flashes across the screen under her losses, and Marinette groans.

“No fair,” she complains. “I was distracted for a second. You wouldn’t have won if I weren’t.”

“Distracted?” Chat frowns at her. “Distracted by what?”

Your tongue does not suffice as an answer. Not unless she wants to die of embarrassment and shame. As Marinette fumbles for an acceptable reply, Chat sets down his controller and leans forward. “Admit it,” he grins, infuriously smug. “I won fair and square.”

Marinette pushes his nose away from her. Her face is burning. “I’m going to kick your ass harder next time, and you’re going to regret this.”

His grin widens. “I’d like to see you try.”

(He’s not cute. Just annoying.)

***

Chat comes by to bake when Marinette’s parents are out of town one day. He asks her to teach him how to make macarons, but it’s a far too advanced skill for his limited scope. So instead, they come to an agreement to make Chinese pineapple buns. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder, Marinette teaches him to knead dough.

He’s all wide eyes and concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he follows her movements. Marinette forgets about rolling her own dough in favor of watching him. His ears are sticking up straight on top of his head.

He’s so annoyingly cute.

“Okay!” Chat suddenly announces. “Is this good enough—Marinette? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she looks at him, looks at the dough, looks at her own unfinished one, and promptly feels her face flush. Then, against all better judgement, Marinette blurts, “Why do you always stick your tongue out like that?”

“Like what?” Chat tilts his head slightly then sticks his tongue straight out. “Likthe thith?”

“No!” Marinette practically yelps, then throws her hands up. “Your dough isn’t ready! Stop slacking!”

He purposefully keeps his tongue out the whole time until Marinette is shaking from laughter.

(Maybe he’s cute. Slightly.)

***

“It’s called blepping,” Chat Noir tells her.

“What?” Marinette looks up from her project. “What’s called what?”

“Apparently cats do it too,” he continues. “Stick their tongue out, that is.”

“Well,” Marinette tells him, nearly tripping over her words. “You’re not actually a cat.”

“I don’t appreciate you telling me what I can be and what I can’t be,” Chat sniffs back. “Besides, it’s not a problem for anyone, so I don’t see why I can’t embrace my cat instincts.”

“Cat instincts,” she parrots under her breath. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait. You’re not bothered by it, right, Mari?”

Marinette snorts. “Who, me? Why would I be bothered?”

Chat shrugs. “See? Then it’s whatever.”

It’s not whatever, but Marinette isn’t going to let him know that. A moment later, when he’s focusing again, she catches another glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue.

Why does he have to be so cute?

(She is in deep, deep trouble.)

***

Chat’s terrible at tying his laces.

It would’ve been funny—from the way his eyebrows are scrunched, ears twitching as he fumbles uselessly with the string—if it weren’t for the fact that all of that was accompanied by the tongue poking out over his top lip. Marinette knows she should stop staring, because then she can stop finding him cute. But she keeps staring, like a whole idiot.

To her mortification, Chat looks up at her and grins when she catches her turning away hurriedly. “Is my face that great to stare at?” he asks.

“What?” Marinette shrieks. “No! I’m looking at you tie your laces. Do you seriously not know how to do them up?”

Chat pouts. “It’s hard to do with claws,” he grumbles, wiggling his fingers. Then he sticks his leg out. “You can do it for me.”

Marinette does it, only to have an excuse to duck her face so he can’t see how red her cheeks are.

It’s one of their monthly outings that Chat Noir claims essential to their friendship. He had launched into an indignant tirade when Marinette suggested they could skate at a rink, insisting that they skate in nature.

Now, at the small pond with hints of snow beginning to fall, Marinette has to admit that he made the right call. The wind nips at her nose with the slightest hints of cold, but not too cold that it’s uncomfortably so. Bundled in her own handcrafted scarf, mittens and toque, the worst of the chill is kept out. Even Chat is wearing an overcoat over his suit.

They’re far from the city; in fact, they’re far from Paris itself. The horse Miraculous is tucked safely away in one of Chat’s pockets (which, ironically, he had borrowed from Ladybug). Here, away from the buzzing and business of the city, her thoughts feel clearer than they have been in a long, long time. The snow, fresh and still falling, offers a muted sort of quiet that leaves her room to think and ponder without interruptions.

(Too bad all her thoughts just linger on Chat.)

((Or maybe that’s a good thing.))

Marinette double knots Chat’s laces. “There,” she announces, then adds, “you big baby.”

“It’s the claws’ fault!” he exclaims again. “Race you to the pond?”

Before Marinette can react, Chat grabs the hem of her toque and pulls it down over her eyes. Then, with a boyish laugh, she hears him run off, crunch, crunch, crunching over fresh snow.

Marinette scrambles to her feet, cursing him under her breath as she snatches her mittens and brushes the wool out of her face. Chat is already halfway to the pond, and with one last desperate attempt to win, she chucks her mittens at him.

They miss by a margin, landing in the snow and inciting more laughter.

“You’re a cheat!” she shrieks when Chat reaches the ice. “I hope you know that!”

“Sore loser!” he yells from the ice, already twirling easily on his skates. “You don’t see me complaining every time you win in Ultimate Mecha Strike!”

Marinette retrieves her mittens from the ground and brushes the snow from them. “You complain every single time,” she grinds out, joining him on the ice. The moment her skates touch the pond, Chat’s already darting away from her with easy grace. He glides, spins, then starts skating backwards so the smug grin is fully displayed.

“Come get me!” Chat Noir calls, sticking his tongue out. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he loops each glide, one foot behind the other with ridiculous ease. Show off.

“If you’re going to keep sticking your tongue out, then I dare you to lick that,” Marinette yells at him, pointing at the lamp pole that stands a couple of paces from them. “Bet you won’t.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, he raises an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do?”

“I’ll bake you a batch of whatever you want.”

“Oh, you’re on. Also, if a batch of cookies is usually twelve cookies, do you think I could get a batch of twelve cakes—”

“I’m taking back the bet,” Marinette mock-threatens.

“Okay, okay! I want those mooncakes we had two weeks ago! Three of them.”

She skates up to Chat as he makes his way to the pole. He tromps off the ice, skates sinking into the fresh snow and leaving deep imprints, before sidling up to the pole.

Frost spirals in small flowery patterns over the metal. Marinette grins when she sees Chat hesitate.

“Well?” she asks. “Chickening out now?”

“Never,” he grins. Then, with one swift movement, he licks the metal pole and pulls back.

Or tries to.

Chat lets out a muffled cry of distress and pain when the tip of his tongue sticks to the metal. Immediately, his hands go to wrap around the pole, pulling himself close enough until the hurt smooths off his face, soon replaced by panic. “Marinethe!” he yelps.

Marinette stares at him, her body frozen in a mixture of shock and amusement. Then the shock gives way to pure delight, and she bursts out laughing.

Chat takes it in stride. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles as she doubles over. He looks so stupid, with his tongue sticking out, gloved hands gripping the pole as his eyebrows scrunch. “Vthery thunny, Marinethe. Can you helpth?”

“You should see yourself,” Marinette manages throughout her giggles. “Oh my God, Chat, you really deserve this for not having better judgement.”

He lets out a long suffering groan. “Geth thith offth!”

“This is what people sounded like in Shakespearan times,” she continues.

Chat side-eyes her, unable to move his head any more than a bare centimeter. “Justh helpth!”

“Ooh, I got a good one. Cat got your tongue?”

He groans. “Is thith whath ith thakes for you tho maketh a joke?”

Marinette snaps a quick picture before taking pity on him. “Wait here,” she tells him. “I packed us hot tea. A little bit will be enough to unstick your tongue, probably.”

She skates back to where their bags lay on the bench and retrieves the thermos. Half a minute late, Marinette is pouring the steaming liquid into the cap, cooling it just enough, before raising it over Chat’s tongue. “Okay,” she tells him. “Get ready.”

For all his superhero experience and near-death scrapes, he actually looks scared of the tea. “Ith won’th burn me?”

“No,” Marinette reassures and raises the cup to her lips to take a sip. “See? Warm, not hot.”

Chat closes his eyes. Very carefully, Marinette pours a small stream steadily onto where Chat’s tongue has stuck to the metal pull. “Try to move away?” she suggests.

He wiggles his shoulders.

“I mean your face,” Marinette tells him drily. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

He scrunches his nose, then very slowly, moves his head back.

The tea does its job, because Chat unsticks himself from the metal easily. His eyes widen as if he can’t believe his luck, then lifts a cautious hand to his mouth and touches the tip of his tongue. “Ow,” he hisses. “It feels like I’ve burned my taste buds off.”

“You froze your taste buds off, but yes.” Marinette screws the lid back onto the thermos. “Lesson learned?”

“You dared me. You wanted this to happen, huh?”

She shrugs. “Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

A look of playful betrayal sweeps over Chat’s face, and he lunges for her. Marinette, expecting it, scrambles out of the way just in time for him to go barrelling into a pile of snow.

By the time Chat Noir has sat up, snow tucked between his ears and all over his hair like cotton, she is already darting across the ice far, far away from him. Chat shakes the flakes from his head and slips onto the ice in one fluent movement as well.

Marinette grins as he comes skating after her. She’s not quite as confident on her skates without her transformation, but lessons and practice have done it’s good because she’s nearly as good as Chat is on the ice. For a good fifteen seconds she evades his messy attempts to catch her, but her disadvantage without her suit comes creeping up little by little until Chat finally manages to wrap a hand around her wrist.

“Gotcha,” he grins.

Then, with a little shove, Marinette crashes into the bank.

It doesn’t hurt, per say, because it’s a snowdrift he’s sent her into, but the cold is still a shock. For a moment, she stares at Chat, who’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, before Marinette comes back to her senses and kicks a her leg at the blade of his skates.

Even his enhanced senses don’t help him from tumbling right into the pile of snow next to her.

One look at each other later, they’re both laughing.

(It’s nice; the time together, the easiness and lack of…everything else. It’s nice, his smile. His eyes.)

((And it’s then that Marinette realizes that she’s in deep, deep waters with no sight of the shore.))

***

They sit together on the bench, steaming tea between them, as Marinette shakes the last of the snow from her scarf and toque.

The sun is beginning to set, and the coldness has begun to creep into her bones, leaking through her overcoat. Every exhale sends little ghosts into the air, and even with the warm tea, Marinette is beginning to shiver.

Still, they’d arranged to watch the sunset, which means that she’s going to stay even if it means freezing to death.

“Let’s skate more,” Chat says. “You’ll be less cold if you’re moving.”

“I’d be less cold if you didn’t throw me into a pile of snow,” Marinette says between chattering teeth.

He gives her a sheepish look. “You got payback, at least? Come on.”

She looks at the hand extended to her. For a moment, Marinette hesitates, even if the butterflies in her stomach are doing a whole gymnastics routine and her heart’s thump thump thump must’ve quickened to at least twice as fast.

Then she takes Chat’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

This time, when she steps onto the ice, he doesn’t let go. Chat Noir’s hands are comfortably warm, tight around hers, and Marinette lets him lead her around the lake in a simple but graceful glide.

They skate until the sky turns from blue to gold, until the clouds dye orange and the world changes color altogether. It’s only then that Chat stops, lifting his head to the sunset. Marinette follows his gaze.

“It’s still cold,” she tells him pointedly, after a minute.

Before she knows it, Marinette is standing against his back, Chat’s arms draped lazily over her shoulders and his chin resting on top of her head. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, but she wonders if he can see her; if he can hear how her heart has jumped right to her throat and notice how the redness in her cheeks can’t be fully credited to the cold.

“Better?” he asks.

Marinette turns back to the sky, where now a brushstroke of red smears across the horizon. “Only slightly,” she replies as nonchalantly as possible.

His body shakes in a silent laugh. And so they stand on the ice, against the cold, until it all melts away to warmth.

(And Marinette thinks that even if she’s in deep waters, this sort of drowning is the best way to go.)

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

[cotccotc]

┈┈ 𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 *:･ﾟ

✩ ot8 reaction headcannon, 2.5k words (eek sorry)

✩ genre/s: **fluff**, humor, established relationship, ot8 x gender neutral!reader

✩ warning/s: MOBILE TUMBLR HATES ME (some gifs & author’s note might not appear),,,, my terrible sense of humor/commentary, a couple of them are suggestive if you  s q u i n t

✩ a/n: idk if the concept makes any sense but it does in my mind \_( ‘-’ )_/ also seungmin’s part is the exact same kinda similar to a brief scenario in my txt soobin “brightest blue” fic... but it’s fineee. also i’m sorry that some are longer than others! enjoy :))

chan:

chan is definitely extremely interested in the music you listen to.

in fact, sometimes he’d probably insist that you show him your current playlist from start to finish lol.

i can imagine y’all hanging out at the dorms, maybe even mid-cuddle, listening to some of your recent favorites.

but there’s this ONE SONG--

your absolute JAM

you get up from your seat or the bed and start completely jamming out.

he stays where he is so he can watch you have the time of your life.

i guess nobody told him you’re a professional lip syncer… awk...

you grab a hairbrush and hold it up like it’s a microphone.

honestly you’re thriving,,

he’s kinda stunned. not in a bad way, but he’s just so mezmorized by how cute (and maybe a lil sexy) you are when you dance like no one’s watching.

there’s a particularly awesome beat drop toward the end of the song, which leads you to do some equally awesome head banging.

he’s cackling at this point, which drives you to act even sillier.

*ending pose*

once the song ends and you’re trying to catch your breath, he slowly starts clapping for you.

“the song was great, but the performance was even better,” he’d say, coming off a bit sarcastic. but he means well!

you start to get a bit self-conscious and shy as you put yourself together again.

he’ll try to comfort you, standing up to wrap you in a hug.

“don’t be embarrassed!” (cue soft chan),

“baby that was awesome”,

“you should join a rock band!”, etc.

overall, he’d love it when you share your music taste, and this event will probably set off a chain reaction of similar jam sessions in the future.

minho:

ok so we all know minho’s a cat person, blah blah blah...

but what if you got super excited about a really cute dog?

let’s say you’re on a walk at a park, holding hands, and talking.

all of a sudden you see someone walking their dog…

and when i tell you this is the cutest, tiniest dog on the face of the earth,,,

you immediately stop walking and squeeze minho’s hand. you point to the dog and start freaking out because it’s so cute.

he’d say something silly like, “what are you talking about? it looks like a rat.”

you disregard it because you’re just so excited about this puppy!

“can we pet it?” you ask.

“... fine” he replies, smiling at you, despite his attempts to act uninterested.

y’all go over to the woman walking her dog and ask if you can pet the puppy. when she says you can pet him, you immediately sit on the ground, ready to have the best puppy playdate of your life.

minho’s still standing, watching you with loving eyes.

of course, you start talking to the puppy as if he’s a baby. minho laughs, trying to stifle all the uwus emanating from his heart

the puppy climbs onto your lap and licks your face just a little bit.

you look up at minho with wide eyes, saying “awww, isn’t he so cute!”

he’d playfully roll his eyes because why would he cheat on cats like that…

then you tug on his hand, motioning for him to sit with you. he does, reluctantly.

you place the puppy on his lap to see what happens.

the dog loves him! (of course, because what living thing wouldn’t love lee minho?)

the puppy is licking minho all over as he makes faces of disgust and struggles to pull him away.

you laugh out loud, happier than ever at the two very good boys in front of you.

he smiles again, completely endeared with your excitement despite being covered in puppy spit...

so, it doesn’t matter what kinds of animals you two prefer, since you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. (aww)

changbin:

i feel like changbin is the type to not be ashamed of/shy about showing you the songs he’s writing.

...except for right now.

he just got home from the studio, dropping his bag onto a table… but some papers fall out.

you attempt to grab the papers, but changbin stops you and grabs them himself instead with a subtle hint of nervousness.

pretty suspicious if you ask me.

“what’s up?” you ask, a bit confused about what just happened.

he’d try to play it off like nothing suspicious was going on, but you know his poker face.

it’s too cute not to notice.

he likes to play all tough but you (and everyone else tbh) know him better than that.

you go to grab the papers, but he steps away. you try again… and again, and again, and again.

you become increasingly more frustrated and impatient with each attempt, until changbin holds them up high in the air where you can’t reach them. he has a look on his face that says ‘haha! gotcha!’

you’ve never done this much jumping in your life.

but you’re not a quitter.

“okay… i give up,” you say, returning to a stationary position and placing your arms around his neck.

however, just as he lowers his hands to your waist, you snatch the papers!

“AHA!” you exclaim.

all he can say is “damn it!” as you scramble to the couch with the papers in your hand. you sit facing away from him, attempting to speed-read the lyrics sprawled across the pages.

he follows you to the couch, trying to take the papers back from behind.

“binnie, these are so good!!”

“thanks… but were they worth betraying your innocent boyfriend?”

“yes. every word.” you finally hand him back the papers with a smirk.

he’d curse under his breath, ditching the papers in favor of tickling you instead.

what a terrible punishment!

hyunjin:

we all know hyunjin is a drama queen,,

you can be a bit of a dramatic person yourself (who isn’t?).

so when you lose your favorite sweater, you’re immediately going on a wild goose chase around the dorms, because that’s where you had it last.

you’re practically talking to yourself. double checking everywhere you’d been. retracing your steps like a mad person.

you need this sweater!!

you let out a little “urgh!” as you begin getting frustrated.

hyunjin would ask what’s wrong, and when you tell him, he’d GASP.

he’d be like:

“have you checked under the bed?”

“the couch?”

“what about over here?”

“over there?”

this boy will not REST until the sweater is back in your possession, wasting no time in matching your level of concern/dramatics...

… if not exceeding it.

y’all have practically torn the whole room apart at this point.

until finally, you find it in a random drawer (of course smh)

“I FOUND IT!” you’d exclaim, flopping onto the bed and putting the sweater on,

to which you’d receive a “YAY!” in return

tired and leaning against a wall, he’d say something like, “thank GOD! now, why do you need it so bad?”

and you’d simply and softly respond, “... i got chilly~”

he wouldn’t give a verbal response, but his face would go from relaxed to ‘bruh’.

you knew he’d be shocked at your statement, but you choose to tease him instead with a smile.

he would then opt to tackle you in the bed, fumbling with the covers and vowing to make you as warm as humanly possible.

jisung:

jisung definitely loves showing you the music he’s been working on, just like changbin.

except… this time, the lyrics aren’t necessarily what you’re used to hearing.

you can tell jisung’s a bit nervous as he presses play, choosing to keep his eyes on the floor as he nods his head to the rap.

you’re listening intently, as curious and excited as you are every other time…

but then you realize that it’s about you……

the lyrics talk about letting someone into his life and his longing to be even closer to that person than he is now.

therefore,,,,   u w u

you giggle, which prompts him to look up at you almost immediately with anticipation about your reaction.

you decide to wait until the end of the song to react, but you can already feel the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

the song ends, and you’re sitting in silence alongside jisung. “so… what did you think?”

“well… i think…” you trail off, looking into jisung’s eyes.

with a bit of a squeal you leap up from your seat and essentially attack him.

you straddle his legs (don’t get any *ideas* this is FLUFF for goodness sake) and wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into a big hug.

“i love it, baby. so, so, so, much,” you respond quickly and genuinely.

he laughs, his arms wrapping around you.

he’d probably remark, “you scared me for a second!”

you laugh in response, apologizing for your delayed reaction.

deep down, he’d feel so relieved that you liked the song and its sentiment.

he’d also be so happy to have you, his overexcited sweetheart, in his arms.

however, at the surface, he’d prefer to tease you. “next time, don’t make me wait so long!”

felix:

ok so y’all send memes and tik toks back and forth all day every day. it’s just protocal.

also,,, you could literally be in the same room, and he’d still just start sending you tik toks he’d saved just to send to you and see your reaction.

but there’s this   o n e

you can’t quite explain why but when you watch the tik tok that your boyfriend sent you from across the couch, you laugh harder than you’ve ever laughed before.

whatever humor you may have, this tik tok completely encompasses it in a beautiful, stupid way.

before you know it, you begin cackling.

felix knows that you’ve always been a bit embarrassed of your laugh (who isn’t, right?), so when you start letting loose he’s a bit caught off guard.

still, he joins in (at a smaller scale, of couse).

he always wants to see you happy, but this is a whole new level of cuteness in his eyes.

your laughter subsides a bit...

until you decide to watch the tik tok again.

believe it or not, it’s even funnier the second time!

you double over, laughing so hard that no sound is even coming out of your mouth.

“are you okay?!” he’d ask, laughing harder now at your actions.

he’d put his arms around you so he could hold you up.

you’d mouth out a “no” in response.

there are practically tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

he’d continue looking down at you with a beaming smile, holding you up until your laughter comes to a full stop.

“was it really that funny? i can’t even make you laugh like this.”

you’re almost dazed, your stomach hurting (in the best way possible). you try to steady your breathing.

after a few seconds of recovery, he’d whisper in your ear with a deep, silly voice...

“...wanna watch it again?”

it’s safe to say you won’t fully recover for a while.

seungmin:

on days off, you watch dramas with seungmin to take both of your minds off of work/school/whatever’s been keeping you busy.

however… of course you can’t go a whole episode without laughing hysterically, and it’s all because of seungmin.

it could be the most dramatic, intense, or heartbreaking scene in the show but he would make it into a full blown impersonation comedy routine.

ESPECIALLY if the drama is in a foreign language.

this boy will reinact all of the subs in the stupidest way possible.

but, today he’s a bit exhausted, snuggling up against you and not saying much.

our boys work too hard :((   (but wbk)

...so you decide to take his place.

you start off kind of hesitantly, waiting to see if he’d even react. when the main characters start to have an argument, you begin reading the subtitles in a silly voice.

you hear a soft giggle from your boyfriend has be tightens his arm’s grip around your waist.

you begin to use different voices for each of the two characters, alternating between a nasly, high pitched one and a lower one with voice cracks. this makes seungmin laugh harder, going from a giggle to his usual open-mouthed chuckle.

he’s so cute >_< ,,anyways…

as the scene intensifies, so does the volume of your impersonations.

“yOu’Ve bEtRaYeD mE!”

“BuT yOu LiEd tO mE!”

at this point seungmin is cackling despite his heavy eyes and unwillingness to move. he’d be so caught up in your routine that he’d forget he was even tired.

you look up at him to see that big smile and those sparkly eyes you love so much, which motivates you to be even goofier!

you sit up, leaving seungmin’s grasp. you begin making hand gestures to match your overdramatic tone.

the scene comes to a climax, in which you recite the final line with more ferver and fake passion than ever before. you finish it off with a fist in the air for ~emphasis~.

as you hold this pose, you hear your loyal audience member begin to cheer for you. he claps, whisper-shouting “ahh” to create fake crowd noises.

“what a show!” he would commend you with an expression of sarcastic awe on his face.

you’re really glad you decided to cheer him up…

but not nearly as glad as he is to have you with him on a day like this.

jeongin:

jeongin’s smile could literally melt anyone’s heart. everybody knows this.

i don’t care who you are, if you see jeongin smile, you either smile or cry and there are no other options.

i don’t make the rules.

so, when he shows you the ‘lovestay’ version of his latest dance practice, you’re bound to go insane with adoration.

as soon as his solo comes up and the camera zooms in on his sweet, smiling face, you give his cheek a little poke

you say, “that’s you!”

“shut up,” he’d respond, giggling.

“wait, i missed something,” you say with a sense of urgency. you take the phone from his hands, rewinding a few seconds.

he’d roll his eyes at you, getting a bit shy.

you resume the video until the boy in the video holds up a finger heart, at which point you press pause.

“look how cute!” you exclaim, looking up at jeongin and pointing back and forth between him and the screen.

“stop it!” he’s blushing (and you’re screaming internally at how cute he is) as he tries to refrain from making a big smile.

you poke his side, resulting in a small fit of laughter that forces his bright grin to peek out.

he swats your hand away, putting his arm around you

(partly to show his affection and partly to make you hold still)

you place your head onto his shoulder, resuming the video for the final time. “you’re too cute. i can’t help it.”

“but you’re the cutest...” he murmurs, almost inaudibly to someone who isn’t as close to him as you are now.

heat rises in your face.

you: “...stop…”

him: “hah!”

touché...

©️ cotccotc 2020 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[sims2bellaswan]

Fascinating [Childe | Tartaglia x Reader]

[TW: STALKING, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE] [SFW]

AO3 VERSION

After a monumental loss, Tartaglia becomes fascinated with you. [AFAB reader]

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger, Tartaglia. In a cold, stone chamber, echoing the gentle sound of water and scented with the smells of soft moss and rotting wood. Your shoes clicked on the cobble almost hesitantly.

“Oh, no! Please, don’t hesitate for my sake, you were doing so well.” The smile he wore was laced into his voice. “You killed the fatui agents, yes?”

All you could manage was a nod, then a thick swallow. Your nerves ran wild. You weren’t prepared to fight him. Trying to relax, you moved from your ready position to a casual stand, the grip on your weapon loosening ever so slightly. You’ve learnt on more than one occasion that frayed nerves lead to a loss.

“Good, good! Then, you’ll be quite the challenge.” Beyond the cheery voice was something different. Something malicious that knew you’d fail.

He knew he’d prove victorious. If the mighty beasts and monsters of the underground couldn’t kill him, what made you think you could? You were weak, it was humorous to even attempt.

No, he wanted to prove to you, specifically, that he was the superior warrior. This game of cat and mouse the two of you had been playing grew boring at this point. He let you catch him here. He wanted to see if you had it in you. To see if you had the guts to give your all.

The battle ended unceremoniously. Routinely boring. You had given it your all, clearly that wasn’t enough. It certainly wasn’t enough for him.

Enough time had passed where you had eventually gotten over your complete defeat. Your bruises faded from a deep purple to yellow, the gashes in your muscles healed well, which you thanked medicinal herbs for. You had new scars, blooming red holes from the arrows that pierced the little armor you had then. But, you knew they would fade with time too. Thankfully, you remained emotionally unaffected from the battle. Sure, it sucked to lose but you knew that if you kept up your hard work, it wouldn’t happen again.

The same could not be said for Tartaglia or rather, Childe, as he was known outside of ‘business’ related circles. He won; normally, he’d move on and find bigger baddies to bully.

Normally, he wouldn’t feel a need to keep an eye on you.

In the first week following your battle, it began as scientific curiosity. He was far more interested in who you trained with than what you did in your free time. Until, he reasoned with himself, it became necessary to look out for you in your free time.

Weeks grew into months of simply studying. Learning your go-to moves by watching you train, knowing how you’d respond by eavesdropping on your conversations. Your group was nothing to bat an eye at, not nearly as interesting as you proved to be.

Waiting for the perfect moment to approach you was probably one of the most stressful moments of his life. You were always with someone, whether it be that levitating, little woman or one of your teammates. They all seemed fiercely protective of you and despite his need to lord himself over you again, he didn’t need their heat as well.

The sun filtered down through the clouds, offering little warmth in the cooling day. You weren’t training or off doing quests for the Knights. Nor, were you with your damned team or that little lady. Now was perfect. Leaving his hiding spot, where he had quietly noted every movement of yours, he dashed to catch up to you.

“You know, wolves run around all over this area.” His arm snaked over your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You froze for a moment before breaking away from his grip and readying your weapon. There was a silent moment of growing tension between the two of you.

He laughed, not even bothering to match your energy. “I only came to offer a rematch!” He held up his hands in defense. “I beat you so mercilessly, I felt bad afterwards.”

You relaxed, standing back up and sheathing your sword. “What are the terms?” You were nothing if not careful, he liked that about you.

“You’re on your way to Snezhnaya, yes?” He began walking, which you had to scramble to keep up with. “I’ll meet you there, we rematch then.” Turning on his heel, he walked backwards to get a good look at your reaction. “My turf, my rules.”

Your face fell, annoyed that you’d have to follow along with whatever dirty tricks Tartaglia had planned for you. “Fine.” You gripped the strap of your bag as you walked. “But, I reserve the right to decline if I don’t like your rules.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport.” He grinned, waving to you. “See you there!” And, off he went.

The journey to Snezhnaya was cold, which was the only word you could come up with to match how you felt. Snow fluttered down and stuck in piles around the path. Little wildflowers, shining with a blue sheen in the winter sun, frame the signposts and fences. Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off.

Meeting with Tartaglia wasn’t as cold, in fact, the inn was pleasantly warm. The two of you held a comfortable silence for a moment before beginning your discussion, quietly drinking your tea while he took a quick shot of some clear wine. He said it would warm you up but you declined.

The terms of your rematch were as follows, this is what you agreed to: The two of you would rematch exactly as you did the first time, weapons and all. No teammates, no tag-ins, which was good because your team didn’t accompany you to Snezhnaya. No dirty moves, but hand to hand was permitted. Unlike your first fight, it wasn’t life or death.

“What happens when one of us loses?” You stir honey into your tea.

He grinned, he had been waiting for you to ask after all. “If you win, I will beg you to be gracious enough to train me.”

“And if I lose?”

“If you lose, I want to train you.” Which essentially means, he will get to be by your side either way. And, he knows he won’t lose. While the fight itself is fair in every sense of the word, Tartaglia has done his homework. He’s studied you since you lost the first time, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Train me in your dirty fighting style? I think not.” You sneered slightly, not worried about how rude you came off.

“Dirty?” He acted mock-offended. “I won fair and square.” He found himself enthralled in your bitterness.

Beyond the agreement, you two continued in light banter. He found it delightful to get to actually speak with you. Watching you pour yourself glass after glass to give yourself a reason to ignore his prying questions. You powered through until you retired for the night, the real battle would be the next morning.

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger. Tartaglia’s cockiness became almost tangible as he strut about the arena, awaiting your ready.

The cold cobblestone would shiver beneath you if it could. You did shiver, painful tears pricking at your eyes when the wind picked up. Your knuckles whitened as your grip on your sword tightened. Knees bent, you readied.

You were able to dodge the first few arrows, much to Tartaglia’s discontent. “You’ve gotten better, girlie!” You lunge forward and he uses it as a chance to pull you in.

Inches from your nose, his breath warms your cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something but you pull away before he can put it together.

Running a hand through his hair, he readies another arrow. Pulling, letting go, hitting you in the arm. It lodged itself in your muscle, right in the gap between your armors. You pull in a tight breath, then continue with your stance.

Swallowing the pain is the hardest part. His arrows feel barbed when they rip through your skin and plant themselves in your flesh. You break the arrow at the base, if you pulled it out, you’d bleed out sooner.

Tartaglia sees this as another window of opportunity. “Nevermind, I think you’ve gotten worse.” He taunts you. He doesn’t actually think this. If he hadn’t done his homework so well, you would’ve taken him by surprise. That’s something that doesn’t happen often. “Though, I’ve seen you train.” He has the upper hand here.

“Do you hold yourself back when we fight?” You break his train of thought. “Because you’re doing an awful lot of chatting.” He didn’t chat nearly this much the first time you two met. You grimaced. Your arm hurt.

“Not anymore.” He smiled, dashing towards you. His elbow rips through the air and hits square on your shoulder, opposite the arrow wound. Breath escapes you. “You know, I wondered if you were holding back.” His foot keeps you to the ground, you think you might puke. “But, when I saw you train, you were sloppy.”

“Saw me train?” You gasped out, chest heaving. The cold air felt too thin to breath.

“Among other things.”

“I win.” His foot removed, he held out his hand. Waiting, patiently, for you to take it, hoist yourself up. You never took it. He wasn’t offended.

In fact, it invigorated him. He takes a knee over you. “I can’t quite figure out why I do the things I do.” He grabs your jaw. “You cast some spell on me. All I can think about is you.”

[noodles-07]

Snow Days :)

Characters: All members of sleepy bois inc (Technoblade, Tommyinnit, Philza and Wilbur Soot

Summary: Techno flies to the UK for the winter because I wanted to hype myself up for cold season. Family fluff ensues.

Warnings: Very brief mentions of murder and strangling, but in a brothers-roughhousing way

Phil snorted from his position on the porch, watching his two youngest sons wrestle in the snow. Wilbur currently had Tommy in a headlock, but Tommy had a handful of snow and looked to be about three seconds from shoving it down Wilbur's shirt, so he doubted Wilbur would hold him long.

Techno would be arriving soon, then they would head out for a standard family day at the park, but until then he had forced the other two out of his house for fear of property damage.

Wilbur let out a very masculine screech and twisted away from Tommy, leaving the teenager cackling as Wilbur yanked off his scarf.

“YOU LITTLE BASTARD CHILD” Wilbur lifted his black-and-mustard striped scarf in front of himself and lunged, sending a scuff of snow across the driveway as he fought for leverage.

“Don't kill your brother,” Phil called passively from the porch, “Or at least wait for me to legally adopt him so I can get the insurance money”

Tommy made a noise that he would refuse to call a squeal as he dove away from Wilbur, just as Phil heard the distinct crunch of car tires on snow and glanced up to see Techno pulling into the driveway.

Phil raised a hand to wave as the drivers-side door opened, and bit back a wheeze when his pink-haired son just opened his arms to the sides and faceplanted into the snow with no hesitation.

“TECHNO!” Tommy exclaimed, bounding over like an overexcited puppy to dog-pile on Techno, with Wilbur right at his heels.

Techno grunted but didn't move for a few moments, when he finally did he rolled over unceremoniously and sat on top of his smallest brother- Wilbur was smart enough to get out of the way- for a moment before getting up and finally offering Phil a smile back.

Wilbur put an arm over Techno with a smile. “Nice to see ya, Tech.” Techno slow-blinked at him for a moment before spinning sharply and throwing his arms around Wilbur.

“I did not fly eleven hours for a hug that you're not even going to commit too, Wilbur”

Wilbur chuckled and hugged him back for aproximately two seconds before yelping and jumping back, arching his back. “TOMMY YOU GREMLIN BASTARD CHILD-”

He was cut off by Phil wrapping Techno in a hug with a laugh. “Let's get your stuff out of the car then we can wrangle the disaster children and head out.”

Techno ducked out of the hug and stepped around the front of the car, opening the passengers seat door and pulling out a small cat carrier.

“You have a CAT?” Tommy yelled from where he was sprawled on his stomach in the snow.

“No, I have a penguin.” Techno set the carrier on the ground and opened the grate, letting his small dog out. “It costs less to fly with a cat carrier than a dog one, Thomathy”

“Okay, ONE never call me that again, and TWO YOUR DOG IS SO CUTE” Tommy scrambled over to the driveway, sitting cross-legged in front of the car and whistling at the dog.

“His name is Floof and if you touch him I will obliterate you, Thomathy” Techno deadpanned, moving to join Phil at the back of the car to unpack his suitcase and duffel bag.

Phil hoisted the suitcase without much difficulty, Techno managing to wrestle his duffel bag away from the older man before he could grab both his bags.

“Let's get your bags in your room then we can attempt to corral the gremlin children” Phil laughed, heading up the stairs to the porch and fumbling with the doorknob.

Techno, of course, dropped his duffel bag right beside the door when he followed Phil inside.

Phil led Techno to the spare bedroom where he'd be staying, (Wilbur and Tommy were staying in a hotel nearby. Phil didn't think he could handle all three of his children in the same house overnight,) and set the suitcase on the floor.

Techno had, unwisely, trusted Wilbur and Tommy to get Floof inside, which resulted in Wilbur calling in the most guilty voice possible, “Phiiiiiiiiil?”

“oh god” Phil muttered, leaning out of Techno's doorway. “What, problem child #2?”

“Dogs are allowed on couches in this house right?”

Phil gently rested his palm against his face for a moment before calling back; “Yes, we have blankets on the couches for a reason.”

He faintly heard Tommy mutter “oh thank god” from the other room as Techno snorted behind him.

“You should unpack a bit then meet us in the living room, I'll either be wrestling the children or hiding in the bathroom” Phil informed, heading out of the room with a soft chuckle.

Techno unpacked the essentials; (see: red weighted blanket and laptop;) and headed back into the living room to find Tommy lying on his back on the floor with his feet up on the couch, probably the one position Phil wouldn't approve of.

Techno flopped onto the same couch as Tommy's feet, scooping Floof onto his lap and burying his nose in the fluffy white dogs head for a moment.

Wilbur stepped into the room from what could only be assumed to be the bathroom, and Floof hopped off Techno's lap... right onto Tommy's stomach.

Tommy wheezed and did a sharp sit-up, blue eyes bulging. Techno stifled a laugh.

“Techno! Your dog almost killed me!”

Techno pulled out his phone, looking at the blank screen as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. “It's a shame he failed”

Tommy was halfway across the room to grab a pillow to throw at Techno when Phil came back in, raising one eyebrow at the sight.

Techno, sitting on the couch looking at his phone without a care in the world. Tommy, in the middle of the room with his hand on a spare pillow, and Wilbur, leaning on the doorframe with half a smirk on his face as he watched the chaos unfold.

“I can explain...?” Tommy offered weakly.

“My dog jumped on his stomach and he tried to murder me,” Techno supplied without looking up.

Tommy looked to Wilbur, probably hoping he would cover for him, but Wilbur just held up his hands and said “I'm staying out of this one” with a half-concealed grin.

Phil clapped his hands together loudly before Tommy could protest, catching everyone's attention. “Alright my problem children, let's get dressed for the weather and go enjoy the weather while it lasts!”

Techno stood up far faster than he normally did and whooped. “Yes! Screw california I desire frostbitten toes and... whatever”

“You could have just like, driven up to canada or something.” Tommy suggested from where he still stood by the armchair.

“Bold of you to assume I can drive”

“I LITERALLY watched you pull into the driveway, Technoblade”

“... Bold of you to assume I can drive... legally”

“Alright Technoblade you're sitting in the back with Tommy” Phil interjected, hiding a grin of his own.

“HEY! I want to sit in the front” Tommy blurted, shooting Phil a glare as the oldest stepped into the next room and opened a closet that presumably held spare winter clothes.

“Sorry Toms, whoever's in the front seat gets to control the music and I'm not giving you that power” Wilbur cut in, pulling on his brown jacket and glancing around. “Has anyone seen my scarf?”

“I think I saw you trying to strangle a child with it” Phil offered, shrugging on his own green coat while Techno trailed into the room to loot Phil's closet.

He found a red coat with pink lining that was exactly his aesthetic and pulled it on, crouching to look for boots that would fit him while Wilbur attempted to grab Tommy in another headlock.

He pulled on brown boots that were just a little too small and called out, “Flooooof”

A long moment of silence passed, then he got up and sighed. “Sometimes he comes”

Tommy snorted, Wilbur taking the moment of distraction to pounce, while Techno went back to the living room to grab his dog.

“Is it safe for a dog to be out in this weather?” Phil checked, setting his striped hat on his head and delibrately ignoring the two wrestling like children on the other side of the room.

Techno gave his best shit-eating grin and pulled something from behind his back. A dog sweater. Phil snorted and buried his face in his hands with a cackling laugh. “Techno you did NOT”

“I didn't what?” he asked innocently, lifting Floof under the belly to pull him into the pink sweater.

“Don't you dare fucking say you also got dog booties.”

Techno raised his eyebrows with a grin. “You said it, not me”

“Techno. Why.”

“The correct question is why not, Phil. Floof's comfort means more to me than my own life.” he pulled red dog-booties out of the bag he'd dropped by the door and made grabby hands at Floof.

After an embarassingly long time attempting to wrestle his dog into boots everyone (including dogs) had gotten into clothes suitable for the weather and Phil was parading them out the door with waving arms.

Wilbur hopped into the front seat before Techno or Tommy even got off the porch, so they took the backseats, giving Wilbur matching glares.

Phil took the drivers seat and turned to look over his shoulder, putting his hand on the other front seat in the most dad fashion Techno had ever witnessed.

“Everyone ready to go? Nobody needs to pee or forgot to grab anything?”

“No, dad, we're all ready to go.” Tommy proclaimed, putting his feet up on the back of Wilbur's seat.

“If you kick my chair I will kick you in the shins as soon as we get out of this car” Wilbur informed him while Phil gave the wear-your-seatbelt-you-disaster-child lecture.

Techno tuned them out by putting in earbuds that were plugged into nothing and stared out the window until the car started moving. Wilbur took control of the radio and gave Tommy the most shit-eating grin in the rearview mirror and started playing the worst pop music he could pull up on his phone.

Tommy groaned and covered his ears, bending forward in his seat. “Whyyyyyy must you make me suffer this way, Wilbur?”

“Because it's very funny to watch.”

Techno pulled out his earbuds and grinned. “Think of the content he could get making a storytime about how he bullied Tommyinnit with Technoblade and Philza sitting by”

Phil silently reached over and turned the music dial all the way down, snatching the phone out of Wilbur's hand and tossing it back to Techno without looking away from the road. “Put on one of Wilbur's songs, most of them are on my iTunes”

Techno quickly thumb-scrolled through Phil's iTunes until he found one of Wilbur's albums, tapping a random song as Wilbur groaned dramatically.

“Think of the CONTENT, Wilbur. My video titles for the next three months will be nothing but talking about how I bullied Wilbur Soot”

“So you mean your next video and possibly the one after that if you're lucky?”

“Okay that one hurt a little bit. Phil save me.”

Phil turned up the music and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he swayed lightly to the guitar.

~

They pulled into the parking lot outside the park and Phil turned sideways in his seat to look over the back.

“Alright, I have four sleds and three hours before we have to get home. Whoever gets to the sleds firsts claims them unless I get there last in which case I get the good foam one with handles”

“Bet” Techno and Tommy said in unison, throwing open their doors and springing for the cars trunk.

Somehow Phil got there before Tommy and claimed one of the foam sleds, Techno snatching the other and leaving Wilbur with the toboggan and Tommy with the saucer.

Tommy shot him dagger-eyes as they trekked to the top of the hill, taking the path beside the slope to avoid getting run over by fellow sledders.

Wilbur set his sled at the top of the hill and got a running start, giving Tommy a shit-eating grin as he did a nosedive onto his sled, catching himself on the front of his toboggan and letting his momentum send him down the slope at high speed.

Tommy had been half-wrestling Phil up the hill for the other foam sled, Techno casually falling back to avoid the combat ahead of him. Tommy had finally accepted defeat and was trying to balance standing up on his saucer.

Techno took a moment to sit cross-legged on his sled before taking off- he wasn't unwilling to admit that sitting at a computer all day playing video games hardly did wonders for your physical strength- before grabbed the handles and awkwardly shuffle-hopping to the top of the slope and letting physics do the rest.

Phil stayed at the top to watch Floof, watching everybody race back to the top. Tommy took off like a cannonball, grinning from ear to ear and carrying his sled on his back like a turtle shell. Wilbur took a moment to look upslope for his scarf, which had landed about halfway down, and Techno spread his arms and legs once he hit the bottom and just spun.

Tommy got to the top first, naturally, and Phil grabbed his sleeve before he could take off again. “We're taking turns watching the dog, first come first serve.” he dropped the leash into Tommy's hand and took off before the teen could protest.

Tommy plopped down on his sled and lifted Floof to his lap, grinning as the dog snuffled at his red scarf. Wilbur hit the top and spent a while lining up his sled, so Tommy slid forward casually and gave the back of the toboggan the hardest kick he could without sending himself and Floof over the edge.

He was delighted to hear Wilbur shout “YOU LITTLE BASTARD CHILD” as he slipped out of hearing range.

Techno reached the top and peered over the edge to see Wilbur fall off his sled trying to grab the scarf and head downhill backward, letting out a “hah” before setting his own sled down.

“Don't you DARE leave me on doggy-duty again-” Tommy was cut off by Techno lying down on his stomach, gripping the handles and grinning at Tommy. “You little-”

Then he was gone, pressing his chin to the sled and letting himself build momentum. He didn't slow down across the flat stretch at the bottom until he stuck out his feet, noticing that the trails from other sleds going long weren't much farther than his had been. Oh-kay... time to get as far as I can and destroy whatever child holds the current record.

He raced back uphill to find Wilbur on doggy-duty, Phil seeing if he could kneel on the sled and go down (he could) and Tommy figuring out what the least practical way he could descend aside from standing on his sled (which had failed miserably).

Techno braced his sled at the edge of the hill, slightly slanted but no so much so as to go over the edge without someone pushing it, and braced himself on top of it, feet digging into the snow to prevent him from going too fast.

“Phil! I could use a shove!”

Phil instantly scrambled over to brace his hands against Techno's sled. “Tell me when to go, Tech”

“NOW” Techno yelped, pulling his arms up like a turtle for minimum air resistance and grinning like a child in a candy store as he shot downhill. He shifted his weight as he reached the flat bit, pressing as flat as he could for equal distribution across the ground.

On the slopes you could put your weight in the middle and let momentum carry you downhill, but on flat ground you needed to preserve momentum so that you didn't sit too hard on the front or back and bring yourself to a painful halt.

He got about three-quarters of the way to the longest streak and narrowed his eyes, following the streak uphill with his eyes. It looked like they'd gotten a boost from a long-destroyed snow bump, which he could only replicate by making a ramp. He temporarily ditched his sled and started packing snow into the best ramp he could.

He didn't start at the bottom, instead making it a branch from the slope itself so he couldn't nosedive his sled into the ramp and stop all him momentum, and it had to be well-packed enough to take the weight of a person at high speeds...

He got distracted until Wilbur whooped from somewhere above him and came spiraling back down to the base of the slope clutching his scarf victoriously above his head.

Most of the trip went similarly. People rotating out on doggy-duty (Phil once decided to take Floof down the slope with him and claimed it was the best time of either of their lives), Techno trying to destroy the record he was sure some twelve year old was proud of getting, and Tommy and Wilbur competing about things only brothers could find competition in.

They piled back into the car panting, grinning and wrestling for the front seat (see: Tommy and Wilbur). Phil slumped against the drivers seat as Techno lifted Floof from Wilbur's arms to his lap after buckling up.

He spent most of the drive playing with Floof's dog-booties and making baby-noises at him, tuning out Tommy screeching “Ten thousand bottles of beer on the wall, ten thousand bottles of beer-” and Wilbur fighting Phil for the radio.

Techno unclasped Floof's booties and jacket while they drove, the small dog wagging his tail and attempting to seize Wilbur's scarf (again) until Wilbur scooped him into his lap and cooed; “You're such a good boy aren't you?”

Techno scoffed dramatically. “I have been betrayed by the one person I thought I could trust!” he leaned back and draped an arm across his face, hiding his grin as Wilbur shot back “Yes you did” with a matching grin.

“Alright, we're back” Phil announced as he pulled into the driveway beside Techno's car, popping the drivers-side door open and peering over the back of his seat. “Make sure to get all human and non-human beings into the house in an orderly fashion, take off your snow gear and head into the living room single-file.”

“Okay dad” Tommy said, bursting out of his door and instantly facing karma as his feet decided not to stay under him and he spilled onto his stomach with a very dignified oof.

Techno made it inside first, setting Floof on the floor and sitting down to pull off his boots and jacket. So many layers.

There was no right for winter gear to contain so many layers. He had a coat with an extra lining, thick boots, a fluffy hat (which he was definitely stealing), AND Phil had suggested he wear an extra layer under his regular clothes, which he had reluctantly done.

He stole the armchair, flopping his legs across one arm and leaning his back on the other in order to achieve maximum inconvenience. Tommy faceplanted onto the couch and gave Wilbur a grin when the oldest of the siblings walked in. Wilbur quirked an eyebrow, walked straight to the couch and sat down on top of Tommy, making the latter squeal.

“Daaaaad! Wilbur just sat on me!” he called in the direction of the kitchen, where Phil had vanished after slipping around the corner mostly unnoticed.

“Suffer” was the only response, making Techno and Wilbur wheeze.

“So are we having a movie night?” Wilbur checked, casually setting his elbow on the armrest as though he wasn't sitting on top of a squirming teenager.

“Yup! We all pick a movie and eat dinner in the living room.”

“What're we eating? I'm withering away from starvation over here” Tommy called, resigning himself to his new position as an armchair.

Phil poked his head into the room with a grin. “Like the wonderful host I am I shall only serve my guests the highest cuisine: we're having frozen pizzas and/or macaroni and cheese!”

Tommy suddenly rolled from the hips, knocking Wilbur to the ground with a cackle and folding himself into one corner of the couch. Wilbur gave a sincere smile and flopped on the other corner, pulling out his phone.

Techno shifted position so he could rock back and forth, flapping one hand in front of his chest with the biggest grin Tommy had ever seen on him. Tommy casually grabbed a spare pillow and leaned back, taking aim for Techno's chest and cackling as the flapping hand knocked the pillow away before it made contact. Techno made eye contact and Tommy felt his heart stop in his chest.

Never challenge the blood god to a fight, no matter how petty. You will lose and he will stand laughing upon your corpse. This was a lesson Tommy learned the hard way, the battle only ending when Phil walked in to Techno pinning him to the carpet in a headlock and several pillows strewn across the room.

Wilbur was studiously ignoring them and biting back a smirk as Phil softly said “Techno... why”

In a heartbeat Techno had returned to his armchair and was looking at his phone like nothing had happened. “Why what?”

“You know what” Phil told him in The Dad Voice as he sat in the center of the sofa, grabbing the TV remote. “Has everyone picked a movie?”

“Eeyup” Techno muttered, distracted by tapping his fingers in rhythm across his knees.

“I have!” Wilbur announced, looking up from his phone. “Hey did you guys know that it's illegal to hunt whales in Oklahoma, which is a completely landlocked state?”

“I did not know that” Phil said cheerfully, right as the oven beeped to announce pizza time.

~

“Techno?” Wilbur asked abruptly about halfway through the third movie (Techno’s pick- Babe) when Tommy and Phil were both passed one on the couch. “Can I play with your hair?”

“Uh, shore” Techno slipped out of his armchair, sitting cross-legged in front of it and letting Wilbur sit behind him.

He tilted his head down to let Wilbur slide long fingers through soft pink hair, leaning into his hand with a soft hum of content as Wilbur gently scratched along his scalp.

He let his eyes drift closed as Wilbur played with his hair, pulling it gently into a soft braid, biting his lip lightly in concentration as Techno hummed softly. Wilbur started humming a soft tune to himself, a half-finished song he was working on.

Techno drifted to sleep as Wilbur picked up a hair tie from the table beside him and used it to keep the braid together, giving Techno’s scalp one last scratch before slipping out of the chair and lifting three spare blankets from the basket next to the sofa, tucking the other three in before heading to Techno’s room to steal the bed.

~

Techno woke up curled up next to the armchair, Tommy draped across Phil's chest on the sofa, with Wilbur leaning on the doorway in his pajamas with a light smile on his lips. He raised a hand in a light wave and Wilbur waved back before heading into the kitchen, presumably for coffee and/or an airhorn to wake up the other two.

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