#he is TECHNICALLY farming so I don’t wanna hear it

[obikinetic]

Day 31: Farm

I was woefully unable to resist the call of a barely-prompt-compliant thirst trap for the last day of Inktober.

Inspired by Nor the Suns Themselves Brighter by @glimmerglanger and that one blessed picture of Hayden covered in mud

•••

Being back on the farmstead left him feeling off-balance. He’d never fitted in there properly, even with work to do. There was plenty of that, at least. The sand and heat were always gumming up the equipment. Anakin ended up wedged under and between processors and collectors most of the hours of the day, because the work needed done and it kept his hands busy.

+

He knew he was filthy, covered with grease and dust. He’d peeled off his shirt earlier, both to protect the clothing and as a stop gap measure against the heat. Obi-Wan looked him up and down and then looked away to say, “Your mother sent me to check on you. She was worried you’d fallen in.”

“Not this time,” Anakin said, reaching for a washrag and scrubbing at his hands.

•••

[solaneceae]

imprint

a team bolas oneshot. q!baghera centric (read on ao3) hurt/comfort, found family

Day Five is technically one of the good ones, because their minds are not drowning in bloodlust and fog-mist, Foolish is making great progress on the castle off in the desert, and the other teams have been leaving them alone for the most part.

Doesn’t mean it’s a good day for Baghera, though. “My body’s so far away,” she whines, rummaging through the chests in search of iron armor and food. “You need help getting back to it?” Phil asks. The duck shakes her head, because she refuses to make him waste twenty minutes just chaperoning her as she stumbles around the map looking for her corpse. “I’ll be fine,” she sighs, picking up a diamond sword and fastening her mask onto her face. It requires some adjustments, with her having a beak and all, but she makes it work. “I’ll be okay.”

(Ten minutes later, her eyes open to dark cave ceilings and glittering gemstones, body tingling from respawn. She wants to scream.)

Phil is back with more resources, and Baghera feels strange. Not bad, just… strange.

It’s a feeling that’s been lingering even since they all fell into Purgatory, growing stronger or weaker in no discernable pattern, always somewhere at the back of her skull. Like a voice almost, not also not that, because there are no words being whispered, only vague drives. And right now, as their fearless leader busies himself at the crafting table, she gets the uncontrollable urge to get his attention. Hello, she chirps, walking up to him. He hums, but doesn’t acknowledge her further, too focused on his task. Her hindbrain gives unhappy. Hi, hi, she tries again, getting into his personal space and jumping around him and what is she doing? “Phil, Phil,” she quacks, look at me, pay attention to me! She forgot what she needed, what did she need? Hi, flock, dad, dad! 

“You’re— Jesus Christ,” Philza bursts into laughter, evading her smaller form as he moves to a nearby chest. “You’re getting in the way, Baghera.”

“Do you have a boat?” she asks, and right, that’s what she needed. He cocks his head, an amused smile on his face. “Do I have a boat.”

“Yee.”

“I don’t— I mean, sure, I can make you one.” She makes a happy sound, bounces off her heels as he gets to work. Flock, dad. Hello. “I’m not, you know I’m not gatekeeping crafting shit,” he laughs as he hands her the boat and she magicks it into her inventory. “You could make your own.” And yes, that’s true, she could. But she likes it when Philza hands her things, like earlier when he dropped food onto her when she was stuck in that hole. It makes her brain happy, somehow.

It only hits her later, when Phil has gone off somewhere, that she had started to truly associate him with that hindbrain-thrum of dad, not as a bit, but something way too real for her taste. She resists the urge to crawl into a hole and shrivel away, and decides to make one last attempt to recover her old body.

(It fails, as things tend to do today. But at least she got distracted.)

***

The silence is deafening. She can hear the occasional grumble in Portuguese coming from her earpiece as Cellbit works on the maze inside the castle, and she wishes she was there making traps instead of getting dirt all over her wings. “I want to kill some people,” she huffs as she digs through rich soil to plant yet another tea sapling. At least farming she could do without messing things up. “I wanna just— run at them and scream.” Can she have that? Can she have this one thing, can she have a little bit of fun today before her timer runs out?

Cellbit hums into her earpiece. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says, and she can feel another part of her wilt at his final tone. “Death counts too much today, you know?” (You will die, his words twist in her tired mind. You’re weak. You can’t be left alone. You’ll drag us down.) “And Phil did so much for us this morning, I don’t wanna disappoint him.”

Well I already did! she wants to scream. I’m just a dead weight, and I waste everyone’s time and don’t accomplish anything on my own! “...Okay,” she replies instead, whisper-soft, and just keeps planting.

(She misses the rest of the family-flock. She misses Jaiden, and Charlie, and Carré, all asleep inside the nest with no sign of waking up anytime soon. She wishes she could join them, put an end to this cursed day already — but she clings onto her fear of letting Cellbit down even more than she already did, and presses on.)

Cellbit renames Iris after a commercial mascot, and that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. And she knows she shouldn’t be mad, because he doesn’t know she’s just spent twenty minutes having a breakdown over them and imprinting like crazy, but she just feels so dismissed by that. So she buries herself somewhere in the desert and screeches out her frustration where he can’t hear her, comms off.

***

“Baghera?”

Her ear feathers twitch. She looks up from the little cozy spots she had made for Iris (they’re gone now. Probably with Cellbit, helping him withe the maze. the maze she wanted to help with. She wishes Charlie had woken up earlier, so they could commiserate over their shared feelings of inadequacy.) “Phil…?” she sniffles, quickly rubbing at her cheeks to erase the evidence of her breakdown. Didn’t the crow run out of time earlier today? She hears a ch-ch-chrrrrp, and she mimics it without thinking, hindbrain buzzing with something soothing. Philza Minecraft appears from behind a corner, and his eyes are soft  or maybe he’s just tired. “Come here,” he beckons, and she finds himself getting to her feet and stepping up to him. “Something wrong?” she cocks her head at him, and he chuckles lightly. “Nah, mate. Just come over here.”

He leads her out of the alcove and into their… sleeping quarters, which was just another part of the cave with their nest in the middle. “Kay, sit down,” the crow says, patting the side of the nest, and part of her panic with the childish fear of oh shit, am I in trouble? “You’ve got sand in your feathers. Lemme help you get that out before you bring it with you in the family pile, yes?”

Oh. She glances at her comm, realises she only has about twenty minutes before it knocks her out for the day. She clacks her beak in frustration — she had accomplished a whole out of nothing today. Fais chier. “...Okay,” she sighs, because at least a little preening sesh would be a decent way to end this shitty day.

“I noticed you were having a rough time,” the crow hums, carding his claws through the down on her arms to dislodge a few pebbles. “Thought you could use some TLC.”

She blinks owlishly (duckishly?). “I don’t know what that means.”

“Ah, like, just taking care of you a little. You felt sad and frustrated all day.”

She deflates, ear feathers drooping. “Didn’t think it was that obvious.”

“It’s not. I just notice this shit better than most,” Phil hums, dislodging more sand that drop outside the nest and digging his claws further in. Baghera closes her eyes — it feels nice. Her wings had been so itchy all day. “Especially when it comes to other avians.”

Right. Philza had retained more memories of his time outside the island than most of them, that made sense. “I’m sorry for calling you dad,” she blurts out, before she loses the nerve to. “I know everyone… I know everyone did it, for the joke, but I think I forgot it was a joke.” (“Dad, are you proud of me? I killed a silverfish!”) 

She remembers Charlie belting out a ‘papa!’ when Phil came back with apples and berries two days ago. She remembers Jaiden calling him dad when he bandaged her left wing after a bad fall, Cellbit’s whiny ‘daaad, when are you gonna come pick me up?’, Carré jokingly moaning out a ‘gracias papi!'. Foolish is the only one that didn’t follow the pattern at this point, probably because he, too, is an immortal being… and the only one free of daddy issues and trauma, apparently. “I don’t mean to,” she breathes out. “My brain’s been all weird since we came here, and I don’t… I don’t mean when we get all starved and murder-y.”

Phil hums, plucks out a loose feather. “Yeah, same. Something about this place is fucking with our code I think. Mob code, specifically. That’s why they’re buffed to hell, It’s not your fault.”

“But it’s,” she groans, struggling to find the right words, both because of the language barrier and her own messy feelings. “You already have kids. I’m an adult. I can’t force that role on you, but my stupid bird brain keeps screaming at me. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s natural, Baghera. I don’t mind. And… forgive me for pointing it out, but if what you said yesterday was true, then you’ve never had an older avian to imprint on as a child. So it’s no wonder your instincts are going crazy now.”

She freezes. “...Oh,” a quiet realization, shame, regret. “You, um. You understood that.” You took it seriously. You remembered. Somehow, that makes her feel… a bit better. Seen. Despite the fact that she just blurted out her deepest darkest secret as a bit, and lo and behold, consequences. Phil shrugs. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anyone else did,” he hums, smoothing out her left wing with a satisfied croon. “Gimme the other one? Good, nice.”

“You’re not mad?” she asks, so quiet and hesitant Philza stops and looks up at her. “That I’m a clone. That I’m… Federation property.”

“Don’t say that shit,” he bares his teeth, puts his hands on her shoulders to squeeze them tightly. “They don’t owe you. It doesn’t matter if they made you or whatever, you’re not them. If anything, you’ve got even more of a reason to hate them as the rest of us.”

“I don’t know…. I don’t know what they did, to me. I don’t even think I’m a real avian.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not like you. Or like Jaiden.” she gestures to her left wing. “I have a bill, you have… human face. Mostly human.” She makes a strangled sound. “Your wings are on your back, mine are just my arms, they’re just this. And even if— even if they weren't clipped, I couldn’t fly with those, only glide, maybe. I know that. They made me wrong.” Her eyes well up with angry tears. “They all… my siblings, they’re all dead, Phil. They all died, and I’m the only one left, and I’m not even good. I’m defective. Maybe that’s why I mess up everything. Maybe that’s why I’m such a burden for you guys.”

“Dude, stop.”

Philza closes his mouth before he can protest, both pairs of eyes turning to a sluggish Charlie, sans glasses, pushing himself up from his blankety prison without rousing Jaiden or Carré. “That’s… that’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard you say. And we debated about human milk cheese and the ethics of eating your own eggs, so that’s saying something,” he mutters, more serious than the duck has ever seen him. The effect is a little diminishes by his squinty, smaller-than-usual eyes (she was so used to seeing him with her glasses permanently stuck to his face) and the yawn that drowns out the end of his tirade, but it still makes Baghera’s breath hitch and her throat close up with emotions. “Charlie…”

“Okay look— I barely feel real right now, yeah? I just woke up, and I haven’t got a modicum of context here, but I’m not letting you talk shit about yourself.” The slime hybrid hauls himself up with a wince, the corruption on his arms and face buzzing and writing angrily for a second. “G-ah. T-Thisssss is gon-gonna b-be a bad, ba-aad day, hu-uuh.”

“Slime— wow, mate, maybe you should lay back down and wait it out.”

“S-Sorry d-aaaad, I’m going th-through mmmmy rebell-bellious phase.” Charlie staggers up to them and sits across Baghera movements stilted and visibly uncomfortable. The duck hybrid opens her bill to tell him off — no no stop it, you’re hurting yourself — but he wraps both arms around her and rests his forehead against her shoulder, the tingle-freeze of his codified parts stunning her into silence. It doesn’t hurt, and she’s not about to refuse a hug from a constantly touch-starved Slime, but it does sting a little. Like static shock, but not quite. “You’re so fucking great dude,” the man says, corruption leaving his voice as the glitches diminish in intensity. “I never told— never told you this, but the first day we met. The wedding? That was the first time in a while that someone was willing to go along with my bullshit.” He squeezes her a bit tighter. His face feels a bit wet agaisnt the feathers of her shoulder, and Baghera lets out a string of hurt? hurt? no, flock, clean. “It felt good. And— hey, not only that, but you were also the only one where who didn’t have pity, or scorn, or, or distrust written all over your face. But maybe I just didn’t know how to read duck body language at the time, haha.”

“I wasn’t pitying you,” Baghera murmurs, trembling arm coming to rest against her friend’s back. Words feel like jagged rocks going up her tight throat. “I didn’t know anything about you. I just found you funny, and you listened to me when we talked about the elections. You kept making sure I was being heard, and… and you were nice to Pomme on her birthday, too. That was enough for me. You know?”

Slime chuckles wetly. “Yeah. She’s a great kid. We’ll fucking get her back, okay?”

“I hope so…”

“Hey. Listen.” He draws away to cup Baghera’s face, squishing it slightly between his hands. Her feathers puff up as a result, it’s funny. “Listen well, Baghera Jones. My—” a sharp intake of breath. “M-My Flippa’s fine, yeah? She’s just waiting for me back at the island, she’s not in danger. But your kid is. And if… haha, if I can be sappy for a sec. With Jaiden, you’ve been the closest thing to a real friend I’ve had for a long time. So I’ll help you get Pomme back, alright?”

The duck’s green eyes well up with tears, some of which start painting dark streaks down her face. “Of… of course I’m your friend,” she sniffles, and she keeps making low chirp-trills Charlie doesn’t understand. “And you’re mine too. I care about you, Charlie.”

“I know. I… I know. And I won’t have you saying bad things about yourself either. You’re litterally so fucking cool, and you put up with my bullshit like nobody else, and I feel safe blurting out the most unhinged crap on God’s cubic Earth because I know you’ll just double down and make me question my sanity, in the best possible way.” He giggles, an unsteady, wild little thing slightly cut up by a stray glitch. “Or whatever’s left of it.”

Baghera’s comm beeps, startling the three of them. Philza approaches (had he moved away to give them space? Aw.), scoffs, glares at the bright red numbers on her wrist. “Fuckin— stupid-ass time limit,” he curses. “We don’t have much time, but we can end your day on a good note, okay?”

The duck hybrid glances at Philza, then at Charlie, pupils so wide the green can barely be made out. She takes a deep breath, thinks of the team. Of her children, waiting for her somewhere. Of everyone else that they lowkey hated right now. And she nods.

***

“Do it Baghera, do it!”

“That’s right, fuck ‘em up!”

“I’m doing it!” the duck woops, pouring the final bucket over the structure and watching it roll across the soil and crops who quickly start to catch on fire. “It’s working, it’s working!”

“Baby’s first lavacast,” Phil coos fondly from his roosting spot, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “I’m so proud.”

He and Charlie watch as Baghera cackles madly, her eyes alight with the fires of war, staring down at her handiwork. “They are so gonna know it was us,” Slime hums, a huge smile on his face as he marvels over Blue’s farm being covered in ash and cobblestone. Phil shrugs. “Yeah, there’s no way. Worth it though.”

“So worth it,” the slime hybrid nods approvingly — Baghera was finally having fun, and seeing her smiling was definitely a highlight of today. “Oh we’re gonna get fucked in the ass tomorrow. No lube, all diamond sword just like God intended.”

Philza bursts into mad, crow-like cackles at that, hitting the slime hybrid’s shoulder to push him off the perch. Charlie falls with an indignant, high-pitched scream that makes Baghera laugh even harder. “How much time left?” the Crowfather calls out at her, and she turns to him with a mad ducky grin. “Eleven seconds!” she quacks back, and Philza’s eyes widen. “What?!”

“Yepp! Gonna pass out now see you tomorrow catch me or let me die I don’t care I have nothing on me!” she sing-songs rabbit-quick, pulling a little jig on top of her dirt tower before her body seizes with a gasp, her comm shocking the literal daylights out of her. Slime lets out a loud oh shit and takes off in a mad sprint as Philza jumps down as well, managing to cushion the duck’s fall with his own goopy, goopy body. “Ow,” he whines, voice muffled by the loose dirt he’s faceplanted into. “My sometimes-existing bones.”

“You good mate?” Philza reached them both, kneeling to check on Baghera — not a single heart of damage on her, her face neutral and peaceful in electronically-induced sleep. “Good catch.”

“Thanks.” Charlie lets his friend roll off his body with a grunt, pulling himself back together quickly before, hauling his friend on his back. “Mission accomplished, Crowfather Phil! Now let’s skedaddle the fuck outta here before Tubbo or BitchBoyHalo shows up.”

“Yeah, time to dip. Back to base, Bolas!”

“WOOOOOOH YEAAAAH! LET’S FUCKING ROLL!”

[delacyrose224]

Christmas Tree Farm

Pairing: Seo Changbin x reader

Genre: Christmas fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: Just a fluffy little piece for Christmas! This is technically a sequel to King of My Heart, but you can read it as a standalone as well.

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

“Go away,” you murmur at the insistent buzzing tormenting you. Instead of listening to you, it grows even more insistent and louder.

“I said go away!!” You pick up your pillow, only to shove it on top of your head. Even through all the layers, you hear a deep grunt beside you as a heavy weight falls over your side. You whine in protest, but the buzzing sound finally stops. 

You sigh in relief, not bothering to remove the pillow, instead content to fall back asleep with it as an extra layer. The peace doesn’t last for long, as the end of the pillow lifts up, letting light into your cocoon. You squint blearily towards it, seeing the outline of your boyfriend’s face lit up like a halo.

“Binnie, no…whyyyyy,” you protest, but a smirk plays across his pouty lips as he wraps his arms around you, dragging you closer to him and the daylight that you wish would just go away.

“Becauseeeee,” he giggles into your neck, planting soft kisses along the way. “Someone said they wanted to pick out a Christmas tree today, did they not?”

“Well that was before this exhausting week happened, and we didn’t go to bed till like 3am last night,” you whine.

“Hmm…I wonder why that was,” Changbin replies, raising an eyebrow at you as he rolls you over, your knees now straddling across his hips. You can see his eyes darken momentarily as you both remember what distraction kept you up so late.

“Okay…worth it, would repeat, 10/10 would recommend…but still! It’s so cold outside, and it’s so warm in here, and cozy…why would I not want to curl up with my cute, sexy boyfriend in bed?” You lean down, planting a slow, soft kiss on his lips.

As he draws back, he sighs and runs a gentle hand across your cheek. “You make a good argument, but I want to go to the Christmas tree farm with my gorgeous, sexy girlfriend. Tell you what, we go get the tree, decorate it, and then we can cuddle and watch a movie later.” Your eyebrow raises in question. “Nightmare Before Christmas?” You nod happily at his suggestion, rolling off the bed, suddenly filled with excitement.

—-------------------------------------------

A couple of hours later, you’re pulling into the parking lot of a Christmas tree farm a little ways out of the city. You can’t help grinning as you look over at your boyfriend, dressed in a cozy sweater, scarf, and glasses…it just might be one of your favorite looks on him.

“...what?” he asks nervously. Whoops, you must have been staring longer than you thought.

“Nothing, you just look handsome, that’s all.” You lean in, landing a peck on the tip of his nose. He scrunches it in response, smiling at you.

“Thanks, pretty.” He holds out his gloved hand for you to take, leading you towards the many rows of fir trees in front of you.

—-------------------------------

On the 5th row, you think you’ve found the one. About 6.5 feet tall, not too wide, and no bare spots.

“This will look so good in the living room!” you squeal, clapping your hands. Changbin nods emphatically, agreeing with you.

With help from the staff at the farm, Changbin is able to tie the tree to the top of the car. “Wanna explore before we go home? I saw that they had snacks and a craft fair as well.” It’s your turn to nod, and you grab his hand and lead the way to an indoor section of the farm. As soon as you enter, your senses are overwhelmed in the best way. There’s plush seating by several fireplaces lining the walls, you can smell cider and baked goods, and kids are excitedly yelling while they run around.

You both take off your gloves, and as Changbin reaches to take your hand again, he squeezes it. You look over to see him grinning at you. “Where to first?” you ask.

“I think I might die if I don’t have some cider, it smells so good,” he laughs, pulling you towards the nearest booth selling the beverage. After paying, he hands you a cup, the other finding your empty hand again.

The two of you wander around the craft fair booths, admiring homemade toys, quilts, and jams. You even pick one out for Changbin’s mom as a gift, seeing as you’re visiting for the holidays in a week or so. “She’ll love it,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Just like she loves you.” Your face grows hot at the statement, but you’re pleased nevertheless.

After wandering around for a while, the two of you find yourselves sinking into a velvet couch in front of a fireplace. Your head rests on Changbin’s shoulder, and you let out a contented sigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, kissing the crown of your head.

“I’m happy we came to get the tree…thanks for convincing me.” You look up at him, smiling.

“I mean, you drive a hard bargain…tomorrow, I’m definitely staying in bed with you to cuddle…and maybe some other things.” He winks at you as you swat at his arm, which causes him to laugh squeakily.

“Seriously…this is so nice. It just feels cozy, like home. Mostly cause I’m here with you.” Changbin opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You can see that his ears have turned a deep shade of red, almost matching your sweater.

All he can manage to do is lean forward and begin pressing soft kisses over your face and the crown of your head, ending with a longer, more insistent one on your lips. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, which makes you smile as well. As you lean back to break away, he simply chases you into the corner of the couch, his hand finding purchase on the nape of your neck, his fingers in your hair as he continues kissing you.

“Binnie, we’re in public!” you hiss, though he can tell you’re not too upset by the look you give him.

“You didn’t care too much about that after our first date, now, did you?” He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs.

“That was at my apartment, this is in public public!” You’re becoming a little frazzled, and he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

“Look up, pretty.” You follow his gaze up towards the ceiling, where you see mistletoe hanging from a Victorian style streetlamp that the farm has used for decor. At this, you can’t help but start to giggle.

“Well, in that case…” You lean forward again, connecting your lips with his, nipping lightly at his bottom lip. His hands find your waist, squeezing for a second before letting you go. Luckily, everyone around you had been too wrapped up in their own holiday festivities to notice your PDA. 

“I’m really glad I met you at that party all those months ago…even though I made you spill beer on your shoes,” Changbin murmurs against your hair, back in the cuddled up position you had started in. “You feel like home to me too.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the crackle of the fireplace and the hum of the people around you.

“Should we get going and get the tree home? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your spooky Christmas movie fix. I’ll even make you dinner, how’s that sound?”

“Amazing. I love you, Binnie.” You two don’t say this too often, though you know it to be true.

“Love you more, pretty.”

—------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hyungieyoongi @derinxfam @iluvhyunjinnieboo @alpacaparkaseok @itsmegracekim

Read more of my work here!

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

oh sHIT I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER i had an idea for an epilogue scene to an au I haven't written yet and I needed @jaynesilver to see it so I typed it as a warm up for once which i NEVER DO but because it's typed you all get to see it too!!

all you need to know if kylo is a beauty youtuber at abt jeffree star's peak fame levels and Hux is a guy with an engineering job who also streams stardew valley speedruns as a hobby and they're very in love at the end of the fic (that again I haven't written yet)

ANYWAY have 1.6K of beauty blogger au under the cut, I'm gonna keep it out of the main tag bc It's not for a current au and I don't wanna clog it up

Armitage doesn’t read Chat while he’s in the mines, with the small exception of checking to make sure he hasn’t missed a ladder. Most of his viewers are used to this. When the first good luck day of a run comes along, and he makes the loop for foregables around the map, when he skips several cutscenes using exploits and puts years of animation-canceling muscle memory into his keystrokes, Chat dies down, mostly talking amongst themselves. 

Commentary is easier; he can talk and click, talk and type, talk and debate using a cherry bomb on a group of copper ore to save himself a few seconds. 

“I’ll save it,” he tells Chat, shifting in his chair. “If I can use it on iron later, it’ll save even more time.”

This run is going well, so far. It’s his third reset of the stream, but Armitage already has all the copper he’ll need for basic sprinklers and he’s almost through the dark levels. Huffing under his breath, Armitage imagines explaining any of this to his coworkers, can already see the glazed-over look in their eyes. He’s familiar with how they stop paying attention when Armitage talks about his hobby. Gaming, they can understand. Replaying the same niche farming simulator over and over to get the fastest time on a silly leader board? More of a stretch? Do that for strangers on the internet to watch as they pay him money? A step too far. Most of them don’t know what Twitch is, let alone understand why anyone would watch it. 

Kylo shifts in his chair on the other side of the room; it’s quiet enough that Armitage can’t hear it over his headphones, so he doubts the microphone picked it up, but the movement catches his eye. This is their first time having him in the room as Armitage streams. He’s editing, an oversized t-shirt hanging off his shoulder, and Armitage wishes there was time to have more thoughts about that, but he gets one last ladder and moves on to the iron floors. 

“I’m suspicious of how well this run is going,” Armitage says, eyes darting to his second monitor as he works his way through dust sprites. “I’m good at the mines, but I’m saving this seed to see if I can work out a perfection run from it.” 

It’s as he’s reading through other people agreeing that this level of luck is unusual, including a stranger accusing him of using mods as if Armitage would dare bother to cheat instead of just ‘getting good,’ as the kids say. 

BornToSlay: what’s ur skincare routine jesus

The huff of laughter is involuntary; he upgraded his web camera at Kylo’s request, and now it feels like his every fucking pore is captured and streamed. He’s gotten a few comments about it, but beyond technical questions and a single curious person asking why he upgraded, something Armitage lied about, the new image quality has gone unnoticed. Because he’s a good mod, Mitaka has already messaged him that the same user asked about Kylo earlier, and Armitage just missed it. 

They expected this, and they were prepared for this. Kylo’s channel has millions of subscribers on YouTube, he’s arguably a D-List celebrity at this point. Armitage speed runs Stardew Valley as a hobby. They’re operating on different levels of internet fame in different niches, but people have been curious, and some of those people are bound to stop in and watch him break rocks for fifteen minutes while hoping for a bounty of cave carrots. 

Still. Most of them have dropped in, decided his content wasn’t for them, and gone away. Apparently, this user has stuck around for a few streams, and Kylo said it was up to Armitage how much or little they interacted. He’s right there, and the run is going well enough he can afford to waste a few seconds entertaining this line of questioning. 

“My skincare routine is whatever Kylo forces me to do, now,” Armitage says, popping his headphones around his neck. “Kylo?”

When he looks over, Kylo is editing; he’s just also got Armitage’s stream up on his second monitor. He doesn’t bother to pretend he was working when he looks at Armitage, turning in his chair. 

“Someone wants to know what my skincare routine is, and I doubt you trust me to explain it properly.” 

Kylo laughs, and when he stands, Armitage can finally read the text on his shirt, and - Jesus, he’s wearing Armitage’s merch, they’re never going to hear the end of this. He can already see the stream compilations, and Armitage thinks he’s wearing Kylo’s sweater. 

Armitage finally uses the cherry bomb on a chuck on iron and Kylo settles behind him, his chin resting on Armitage’s head and his arms around Armitage’s shoulders. 

“It’s not consistent,” Kylo says, looking at the camera. Armitage can see him in the Streamlabs window, a lazy face of makeup and his hair piled on his head in a messy bun. He looks fantastic, which is to be expected when his entire internet presence revolves around beauty, but Armitage will never get tired of looking at him. Kylo keeps talking, but Armitage tunes him out, focuses on hitting floor forty, getting seven more iron, and then passing out so he can start building furnaces. 

Chat has started speeding up; Armitage doesn’t even have to ask Mitaka to turn on slow mode so Kylo can read anything, he just already does it. Kylo doesn’t have his contacts in, so he shifts his glasses up his nose to read the screen. 

“They want to know if I ever put makeup on you,” he says, and as Armitage makes his way into town to buy seeds from Pierre, he huffs. 

“I’m wearing makeup now,” he mutters, and he knows the mic will pick it up clearly, but he almost wishes it could be an aside. “I’ve been wearing makeup from streams since my first few months. Someone wouldn’t stop talking about my freckles, so I bought some shitty foundation at the grocery store so I wouldn’t have to ban the word.”

Kylo laughs, and Armitage can feel him look down, can feel his thumb drawing circles on his chest. 

EmilysWife: Beauty icon Hux PierreSucks: omg is that how you met

Now it’s Armitage’s turn to laugh. In the few weeks since someone recognized him out with Kylo, the few weeks since Armitage tweeted to confirm that was him, that he wasn’t Kylo’s assistant, it hasn’t come up how they met. They’ve not talked about keeping it a secret, although perhaps Armitage would like some parts of their relationship to stay between just them. 

This seems harmless enough, though. 

“Kylo tells this story better,” Armitage insists, because he loves Kylo, but he’s also cruel. Kylo’s breath is warm against his skin as he hides his face in Armitage’s neck. “Would you like to tell Chat how we met?”

“No...” The words are groaned, drawn out, a tone that perfectly conveys both Kylo’s embarrassment and his willingness to share. He stands up straight, and Armitage misses the press of his body, but he can hear the shuffle of his shirt, can see the chat as his absolutely ancient merch is on display, the screen printing cracked and faded from wear and hundreds of washes. “I was a fan.” 

“That’s shorting them the full story.” Armitage’s tone is teasing as he sleeps, wakes up, loads his furnaces and waters his crops. It’s a cycle of days he could do with muscle memory alone, has done blindfolded for a video on YouTube. “Phasma is a friend of mine, and when she did a video with Kylo, they had to pick up something she left at my house. What were your first words to me, Kylo?” From his spot hiding again, Kylo’s words are muffled. “I’ll tell them, then. He said, and I quote: ‘You talk me to sleep every night.’ That, Chat, was his opening line.” 

Kylo’s head pops up, and Armitage can see his pout on the screen, his playful glare. 

“It worked.” 

Armitage laughs. 

“After seven attempts to make yourself not sound like a stalker, I suppose it did work. Or, alternatively, I didn’t know you were hitting on me until we were on our third date.” Armitage could sound sad here, but he decides against it. He hadn’t been able to imagine a world where Kylo found him attractive. It never occurred to him that Kylo might be interested, so he lusted in quiet, alone at night with his own hand. “I still maintain that those dates don’t count, since I was unaware they were dates.” Kylo’s acrylics dig into his shoulders, and Armitage hisses in mock pain, as if Kylo’s nails aren’t rounded at the tip. “Don’t put holes in your own sweater, idiot.”

Though he attempts to fake angry, the last word comes out soft and fond as he looks up, doing his best to forget they’re on camera for a moment, to forget that he’s streaming this live and that he’ll be hearing about this for weeks. Phasma has already messaged him on Discord; Armitage will deal with her after the stream. 

The press of lips on his cheek is welcome, the loss of Kylo’s warmth less so. He waves to the web camera one last time before heading back to his own desk, putting on his headphones. Half of Chat is talking about his insane luck and all the pumpkins he’s going to plant while the other half still can’t quite believe Kylo was there, and is speculating how many streams he’s been just in the background of. Armitage won’t answer that; he doesn’t want to encourage them to ask for Kylo every stream, though he imagines they will anyway, now that the flood gate has opened. 

KyloAmidala: I normally just watch from the other room, though now I have to settle for replays if my sleep schedule is messed up. 

Armitage can hear Kylo snickering even as he puts his headphones back on.

[teecupangel]

YOU

HI

okay, my brain just exploded with the idea of:

The Ancestor Assassins, the fellas right? Pick or choose, one or all of them, okay??

Now reincarnate them in the modern day, in DESMOND’s era

Have THEM go on an adventure as an outdated assassin in modern times, have THEM meet Desmond while they’re still young, have THEM hide the truth until Desmond has already been kidnapped and put through the animus

Maybe they don’t even meet Desmond until he’s a bartender and then hear about Desmond’s kidnapping and be on his team!!!

Or maybe they’ve known Desmond since the Farm and looked after baby Desmond while judging the whole system, not fully knowing his importance until later

Hell, they could reincarnate after the Solar Flare, but Desmond survived and retired to become a full-time bartender!! Now his bar is a modern assassin’s bureau!!!

(I love this idea and I do not see much of it, just saying)

(Ps. You could add romance, because I know you and your Altair x Desmond fics 👀👄👀, or just keep it platonic, whatever you want)

(More of a Deslex shipper myself, but I love those works anyway lmao)

I’m just going to self-promote my Project Eurydice series which does have the setup of Assassins in the past being reborn in the modern day. It has childhood friends to lovers AltDes, Altaïr screwing up the Desmond Saga’s modern-day setting and Ezio off doing his own thing and messing up the AC movie’s plot. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s version of events as AltDes’ adopted baby is also… sorta planned? I mean, there’s a vague plot and we’ll see if I have time to write it XD

Okay, since I already have a plot for an idea where they are reborn and ‘met’ Desmond when they were young (technically). How about we go for your “they’re reincarnated after the Solar Flare” idea and spice things up.

They were reborn after the Solar Flare and, to make things weird, they were all born on December 21, 2012, at exactly 00:07. The exact date and time that Desmond ‘died’.

So, in this setup, they would know something weird is going on. Maybe Abstergo would even realize it and start looking for people born at that exact date and time.

And, of course, to make this a bit more less obvious, they were born in the same country they were born before so their birth certificate would be a big red herring because they’re all born at the same time but they would only know that if they convert their birthdates and time to EST.

So, that sets us up for their ‘rebirth’.

The next stage would be the world they would be born in.

And this is where things get tricky because…

Well…

If they will all be reborn in 2012, that would mean they would still be ‘children’ by the time AC Valhalla hits.

But this does give us some leeway though.

So, as far as the world knows, Desmond died.

Abstergo even autopsied his body and they used it to make those games.

So…

Uh…

You guys wanna be reminded of something strange?

The pandemic hit the world last 2020 and Layla died in 2020.

This means that AC Valhalla’s modern day setting and Layla meeting the Reader and the two of them deciding to find other calculations all happened in 2020 (August, to be more accurate).

So…

In this setting, the pandemic is in full swing and these children (who are trying to learn the world they have been reborn in) get the same(ish) idea:

Ask their parent(s) to hire an online tutor so they won’t fall behind and they decide on history because, fuck it, that’s the most important subject as far as they know.

Enter a very inconspicuous online tutoring ad that their parent(s) tried out.

And that…

… is how they meet Desmond Hassan, full-time bartender who has a supposed degree in history and is doing this sidegig to keep up with the expenses during lockdown.

Unorganized Notes:

Okay, so I usually make Altaïr an orphan with Al Mualim being his foster grandfather but, for this one, let’s give Altaïr some happiness (and the additional ‘this is what could have been’ angst) and Umar and Maud raise him. (… maybe make Malik and Kadar his childhood friends this time around?)

Ezio is still part of a big family and he’s much more affectionate with them this time around.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is being raised by Kaniehtí:io with Haytham still having ties with the Templars but he doesn’t realize it because, to him, Haytham is just a COO of Abstergo.

I know we’re focusing on the ancestors and Edward technically counts but I want Edward to be a doting grandfather to Ratonhnhaké:ton who videocalls every week to ask how his favorite (“I’m your only grandchild, pappy.” “And that is why you’re my favorite.”) grandchild. He and Haytham have a strained relationship and I kinda like the idea that Edward isn’t an Assassin in this one but he’s sorta allied with them? It’s all hush-hush though but he’s the reason why Altaïr II can go wherever the hell they want. (Edward being the owner of a big shipping company would be fun).

Desmond takes the name Desmond Hassan because he’s not that creative and the mystery is: “Is he really Desmond?” “Is he Desmond and Layla fused?” “Or is he the Reader trying to mimic both Desmond Miles and Layla Hassan?”

Gonna be honest, I don’t really mind large age gaps in pairings and this includes the whole ‘they’re older than they are’ setup so I’m game for AltDes if you’d like. Their relationship can also totally be platonic (I can write platonic AltDes too! (waves hands at The The Second) and …………… technically the fics where Altaïr is just a Bleed like Falconry and The Helios Job? (total silence))

Anyway, if you want this to be Deslex (I’m going to assume that means ProtoCreed Alex x Desmond), the pandemic of AC lore can be a mutated version of Blacklight virus. Not as dangerous and less ‘icky’ than the original Blacklight virus but harder to spot and contain. The idea could be that the whole plot of Prototype happened in the background but it was contained and is ground zero of the pandemic with the public only knowing it as ‘ground zero’ then the mutated, still dangerous but at least you won’t turn into an icky monster, version spreads and that’s when the lockdowns happen.

Those with high Isu genes (like our reborn ancestors) are immune to it and that’s who Alex is looking for since… well… they may have a clue to how to stop the spread.

Alex ends up meeting Desmond because of his high Isu genes and…

Ends up using his apartment as a base of operation while he’s searching for answers and trying to fuck up Gentek-Abstergo’s plans to weaponize this version of the virus and also steal their data for a cure because they’re planning to use it as leverage to those in power and a way for the masses to think of them as ‘saviors’.

Of course, as with all my other ProtoCreed ideas, Blacklight virus is a genetically altered ‘virus’ that had been based on a failed Isu project led by Tinia.

If this is DesLex, the ancestors would be protective of Desmond and would think Alex is not good enough but Desmond seems happy so… okay. But they’ll be watching. If Alex fucks up, he’d have three Master Assassins hellbent on taking him down.

[ainarosewood]

Journey’s Start

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

FFxivWrite2022 Day 18 Prompt : Free Write

Senah jerked awake for the third night in a row clammy from sweat as the strange dream left her.  The Lalafell’s heart was hammering as she sat up and stared out her window into the starry sky broken up by the branches of the trees.

As she sat there the quiet voice of her mother reached her ears.  “Its getting to be too much Ardert.  I know he needs it but the medicine is so expensive.  We can barely afford it, much less getting it and keeping the farm up.”

“I know,” Ardert stated the frustration evident in his voice, “But what can we do Jora let the poor boy spend his days coughing to a point o bein unable to move?”

“No…,” she replied, sounding guilty that she had even brought it up.

“We’ll manage luv somehow we always do.  Maybe we sell some o the sheep te them Limsan folks make less work overall.  I know little Senah’s tryin te fill in fer her brother, but let's face it farm works hard on a Lalafell.”

Senah grimaced, her father hit hard on the truth of it.  She was doing her best to fill in the gap her brother Burchard had left in the farm.  Two falls past the boy had come down with the Creeping Death.  Only being half Hyur, he survived it better than some did.  But it permanently scarred his lungs and made him prone to coughing fits that literally made him bedridden most of the time without the medicine.

Medicine that was made in Frondale’s Phonistery in Ul’Dah and had to be imported into Gridania proper where one of the family would have to make the three day trip to the city to buy it and another three to bring it back to the farm.  Medicine that only lasted a month.

All in all it was putting a strain on the farm every time it needed to be gotten but none of the family would allow Burchard to go without it.  He suffered so much without its help and they all loved him too dearly to let that happen.

There's gotta be something that can be done, Senah thought to herself as she sat there in bed

Then it hit her, she struggled with farm work but she was skilled enough with a bow.  Time and again she had brought her family food via a quick clean shot.  The last time it had been her who had gone to Gridania to get her brother's medicine.  While there she had stopped in the Carline Canopy to see Mother Miounne speaking with a young Miqo’te who had just arrived and was registering as an adventurer.

Adventurers get paid te do all sorts o odd jobs round Gridania, the Shroud and pretty much anywhere folks are lookin fer help she said to herself.  

Making up her mind she got up and made her way out to the kitchen where her mother and father had been quietly talking.  Her mother turned and said softly, “Sorry Senah we didn’t mean to wake you.”

The Dunesfolk shook her head, “Ye didn’t wake me ma but I did hear ye and dad talking.”

Both the Elezen and his Hyuran wife looked sheepish and started to open their mouths to speak when she raised her hand to stop them.

“I ain’t upset far from it actually.  I getcha an I know how hard its been and how technically useless I am on the farm.  The tools are too big fer me and I can’t really wrangle the herd.  Bout the only thing I can do is get ol Basil te listen and even then he’s just a stubborn bird that don’t wanna do much.” she stated, “An it got me thinkin, I’m a fair hand with a bow an Gridania’s always looking fer ‘venturers te help out.  So I think I should head te the city proper and join the guild…”

Worry filled her father’s eyes and the Elezen blurted, “Senah…adventuring is dangerous.  Its not just simple chores, sometimes it's killing beasts or even Ixal…”

Senah nodded, “I know it ain't a skip through flowers, I know there's trouble abound ‘specially now even so far after the Calamity but, there is coin te be had.  Coin that could help the farm out and I ain't afraid.  I also ain't plannin on rushing out till I got proper knowledge o things.  And Gridania has the Archers Guild which could teach me how te hone my bow skills so I could defend myself.”

“Senah…” her mother began

“Look I get it, yer worried and rightly so.  But I ain't gonna just run off and try and gain glory and the like.  I’ll do the small jobs, the ones some scoff at cause they think it beneath em.  I go slow and careful.  Ye both and my brothers have always treated me like family and I wanna do my part te help.”

Her father gave a bemused smirk, “There is no talking you outta this is there?”

The Dunesfolk shook her head, “Nope, it ain't just cause o concern for the family I’m doing this.” she paused a moment her eyes became contemplative before she continued, “It’s something I need to do, dunno why, but it is.”

Her father nodded her mother made a sound of protest but he just held up a hand to her before looking his diminutive daughter in the eye stating, “When mornin starts run over te Asta’s farm and ask if she’s got a moment te talk.  She spent years wanderin as an adventurer fore she settled down te farm.  Find out what yer signing up for if it’s whatcha wanna do lass.”

Senah nodded then bid both of them good night knowing full well that just because she was supposed to go over there tomorrow didn't mean she didn't still have to do the chores in the morning.

Her heart was pounding again this time with excitement.  She had been truthful that she wasn't going to just rush into things but that didn't mean that the prospect of doing something other than farm work all day long wasnt an exciting thought.  And as she had told both of them this felt right, like it was something she was meant to do.  She didn’t know how or why but it did.

[writingnaturally]

Tied by a star [Chapter 1]

The sun shone as Esme opened her eyes. She lived in a small farm town outside the kingdom walls of Estordia. She was the only girl in a family of 2 boys and a widowed father. He was a dairy farmer, so they weren’t poor but they definitely weren’t rich. They were well-off. That’s how he put it. 

Her father was proud, too proud to ever remarry, and he ran his family stricter than anyone in town. She knew it was for their protection, but she was only a child and the townsfolk were close knit like family. Who would ever hurt them?

It was well known in town, they’re family rules. Be home before dark. Don’t talk to strangers. Simple rules to follow. But one fortnight, a family showed up, the first strangers in years. The first stranger in Esme’s lifetime. By now, she was 8 and her brothers were 12 and 16 respectfully. 

Her brothers never let her step on a sharp piece of grass, let alone a paper cut. But she wished she had more freedom. They followed her everywhere. So, at night she would usually escape the house and finally get some alone time, as she clambered to the roof. Her father knew by now, but he could always hear her footsteps on the roof, so he knew she was home and safe. (she’s done it so much, he doesn’t worry about her falling). 

Her father knew what it was like, he grew up in a house full of girls ‘stead of boys, but all the same, he knew what it was like to be singled out. 

That night, the stars were extra bright to her. She looked for the constellations she remembered, and looked for new ones. Then, she saw a shooting star…or what looked to be a shooting star, until it crashed into the forest just outside of town. It wasn’t very big, nor did it make much of a thud.

Esme’s eyes grew wide. She looked in the distance and saw smoke rising above the tree line from where it landed. Surely if she went to look, she wouldn’t be alone. Other people were bound to have saw that. 

She clambered down the ladder and looked again. Though not as high, she could still see through the trees the smoke. Did she dare break father’s rule? Technically she was already outside past dark… 

She climbed the fence and started running towards the smoke. She was making good progress, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Esse, what do you think you’re doing?” It was her oldest brother. 

“Oh come on, I saw something crash from the sky… I wanna know what it is!” she whined.

Her older brother smiled a little, he always encouraged her curiosity; when it was safe of course but encouraged nonetheless. “I know. I saw it too. That’s why I’m coming with you.”

She smiled, seeing as he wasn't there to rat her out or stop her, they continued to run through the trees, past dim houses meaning people were asleep. Soon, the smoke became stronger, and they covered their faces and proceeded with caution. In a small clearing, there was a crater.

Esme couldn’t help but peer in. It was too dark to see the bottom. She took a rock nearby and dropped it down the hole. One, two, three, and then it hit the bottom. “It’s not that deep…” She pointed out. 

“I think we’ve done enough exploring and disobeying for tonight.” He said, reaching out a hand to his little sister. But in doing so, she became startled and slipped down the slope of the crater. 

“Esme!” He exclaimed. 

“I’m fine, just dusty.” She responded, up the hole. Turning around, she expected to see a rock or a star, but she saw a tunnel. A small dugout, following it around a corner, she saw a crystal structure. Her eyes lit up as it was the most beautiful thing she’s seen. She had to get a piece. She took a large rock, and went up to one of the prongs of crystal, and after a few hits, it broke loose. 

It fell to the ground with a thud. She bent down to pick it up and quickly put it in her bag. She’d take it to father tomorrow. Maybe he’d know what it was. “Esme, come on!” Her brother called. Right, she had fallen…

She left the crystal, giving it one more look behind her shoulder before calling back up. “I’m coming, keep your pants on.” She called. 

She made her way, putting her hands on ledges and climbing up, little by little. She finally grabbed her brother’s hand as he pulled her out of the hole. “Come on, before father worries.” He said. 

“Oh, I think that’s already too late.” A familiar voice said. We turned to see our father standing, with his arms crossed. We both sighed as we both expected to be lectured till morning broke. 

Father was silent during our solemn walk back, up until he closed the door behind us as we returned home. “What were you thinking? It’s 10 till full peak. I woke up because the cows were going haywire, no doubt due to whatever happened out there, and you, nor you were in bed.” He grumbled. 

“I’m sorry, father.” We both said almost in unison. 

Father sighed, as he went to bed. “I know you sneak out every night to sit on the roof. Your curiosity has always been expanding. I can’t always look after you. I’m glad your brother was with you at least.” He said finally, before closing the door behind him. 

We exchanged glances and soon went to bed ourselves. Or to our rooms at least. I pulled out the crystal shard I had, and put it on my bedside drawer. It was pretty and it captured the moon's light so nicely. It cast the light around my room and I fell asleep staring at it.

A/N: This is the first chapter of my last repost, I hope you guys like it and I am open to constructive criticism.

[blouisparadise]

Here are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of November. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Kiss Full Of Color | Mature | 1330 words

A farm fic drabble.

2) Under The Moment | Explicit | 2797 words

In which Louis is Toto.

3) Don't Fuck With Me Louis | Mature | 3051 words

Jealous Louis tries to get back at Harry after he flirted with an interviewer.

4) If I Loved You Less, I'd Be A Liar | Mature | 5063 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry wanted a chance when it was all over.

5) But When You Get Me Alone It’s So Simple | Explicit | 5479 words

Louis comes to LA to see Harry’s show. Harry sings medicine and of course smut follows.

6) In My Bed (You're Not Here) | Mature | 5685 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis fears that his long-term boyfriend Harry is losing feelings for him. A drunken night reveals he might be wrong.

7) No Need for Anything Else with My Baby at My Side | Mature | 5858 words

Harry finds out Louis is into strictly vanilla sex while on their first date.

8) Where I Belong, Eternal Love | Explicit | 6410 words

Harry broke up with Louis nearly four months ago and hasn’t stopped calling ever since. Louis doesn’t bother to return any of his calls until he hears the unexpected news that Harry will be starring in his favorite film franchise. He has a few things to say about that.

9) Peaches | Explicit | 7669 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Once behind Harry, he bends over and places his hands on Harry’s thighs, slowly rubbing while bringing them up to Harry’s chest. Noticing the more prominent bulge in the alpha’s pants, the omega starts to whisper the lyrics in Harry’s ear.

Oh there daddy, daddy didn't bring the towel

10) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9606 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital.

So. There’s that.

11) Just Wanna Be Loved By You | Mature | 10037 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis doesn't expect to meet his soulmate in the park, but sometimes fate has other plans.

12) Candle Wax & Polaroids On The Hardwood Floor | Explicit | 13082 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 463: Clumsy modern witch Louis AU where he accidentally gives his roommate Harry a love potion and he has a crisis because he thinks he will get in trouble with the law for technically poisoning someone and Harry’s heart eyes aren’t helping.

13) Call It Fate, Call It Karma | Explicit | 15785 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You’re really telling me Louis’ been here for weeks and you haven’t noticed until now?” Nick snorts, shaking his head as he slides off of his horse.

Harry sighs, wondering how many times he’s going to be questioned over this. “There are a lot of people working in our stables, Nicholas.”

14) You’re All I See In My Mind (I Think I See A Lifetime) | Explicit | 16312 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Kitten hybrid Louis gets kicked out of his house. With nowhere to go and a very cold and stormy weather outside, he ends up wandering into Harry’s shed to hide from the thunder and rain (he gets terrified by it). Harry hears crying from the shed so he goes to investigate.

15) Gather Courage Like Wildflowers | Mature | 16718 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis can have anyone across any kingdom, but he doesn’t want them. He wants Harry — the mysterious, new stable hand

16) Treading Through Flowerbeds | Explicit | 20384 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“So are you coming to class or are you gonna take the day off to shop online for your vibrator?” Zayn props his shoulder against the doorframe and watches Louis scurry around their room in amusement.

“I wouldn’t have lost the bet if—” Harry and his massive dick didn’t exist, “—you didn’t make us go to that frat party.”

“You’re the one who said you could flirt your way out of a speeding ticket with that old, bald policeman,” Zayn replies. “You know, you should be glad we went with the vibrator up your arse instead of taking Viagra before class.”

17) Fairy Tales Of Yesterday Will Grow But Never Die | Mature | 20522 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis purchased an old house that’s on the historic registry and needs a lot of work. As he uncovers its years of use and abuse, he finds messages on the walls that appear and disappear, even though he’s the only one living there. He asks a nearby handyman (Harry) for help in deciphering the mystery and romance ensues.

18) Centaur And The Fawn | Explicit | 20849 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Can two of different species fall in love with each other? A story of how to navigate when two worlds come together. (Or, a thing within a thing, spoiler alert.)

19) Cut the Sides, Don’t Touch the Back | Explicit | 21596 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 87: Harry’s been talking about getting a mullet for so long and Louis hates how good he pulls it off.

Aka The Mullet Fic.

20) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21681 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

21) Burning Through The Shadows | Explicit | 21895 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“He’s Louis Tomlinson,” the General spoke from next to Louis. “The Sun Summoner, moi tsar,” the General said, looking at Louis.

“He will change the future,” the General said, looking at the king and the queen. “Starting now.”

The General raised his hand and shadows creeped up from every corner of the Great Hall, enveloping them all in darkness. Louis was reminded of the time when these shadows had protected him, them, from the harsh winter of Ravka.

“Now call the sun,” the General leaned in and whispered in Louis’ ear.

22) Never Been So Defenceless | Mature | 23333 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

An ode to awkward, oblivious Harry.

23) Bell Bottoms | Mature | 23791 words

Harry Styles is an Alpha who only wants to find love, but he shows this in a terrible way. He as slept with almost every omega in his small town. Expect for Louis. The one who Harry truly believes is his soul mate, but Louis doesn't want to be with someone who's been around the block more than a few times. Harry just wants Louis, but Louis doesn't want Harry.

24) Strong Enough To Get Us Wrong | Explicit | 24291 words

Omega Louis have always considered the soulmate etching on his left thigh to be a curse. It takes a world tour, the bustling city of Tokyo, a hike to see Mt. Fuji, some hidden feelings, sea urchin sushi and the alpha he hates most in the world to change him.

25) It's Not A Walk In The Park To Love Each Other | Explicit | 24461 words

The one where Harry and Louis are roommates forced to quarantine together, but they hate each other very much a lot.

26) A Kiss From A Rose | Explicit | 26437 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Two strangers get stuck in a lift and come out obsessed with each other.

27) Starry Night into Holy Days | Explicit | 27011 words

Altered Carbon AU. Criminal Louis Tomlinson is released from prison after three hundred and forty-two years. When he wakes up, he finds that his consciousness and memories have been transferred to a new body. Struggling to remember his past, Louis has to simultaneously adapt to a new world where virtual immortality has been achieved and deal with a rich megalomaniac named Harry Styles who wants them to marry.

28) Your Heart Is Dangled In Front Of Me | Explicit | 27085 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry Styles prides himself in being one of the best detectives in The 28th Precinct. But if there's one case he can't solve, it's his marriage.

At least not on his own. Joining forces with his five-year-old son and a free-spirited murderer-on-trial, Harry does whatever it takes to bring Louis back.

29) Fake It Til You Make It | Explicit | 28745 words

After a serious error in judgement causes Harry to lie to his frat brothers about being in a relationship, he begrudgingly enlists his best friend’s omega roommate to help keep up the charade. There’s only one small issue…

30) A Sweeter Piece Of Aspiration | Explicit | 28933 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry always imagined the first meeting with his soulmate being romantic. When the mark first made its appearance, the skin of his left cheek slowly growing darker until it was recognizable as a soulmark, Harry spent hours tracing the edge of the print lightly with his fingertips. He’d place his own hand there to give the sensation of someone touching him, and he’d imagine how it would go.

Maybe it would be intense. Maybe it would be romantic. Maybe it would be emotional. He’s spent hours imagining how it would go. So, of course, it doesn’t go anything like Harry imagined.

31) Tarnished But So Grand | Explicit | 29370 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 51: An omegaverse AU inspired by Bridgerton with Louis as Daphne and Harry as the Duke of Hastings

32) I'll Grow You A Garden Inside My Heart | Explicit | 31259 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry is hired to plan the wedding of his best friend he is so madly in love with it makes him sick. Literally.

33) No Other Version Of Me I Would Rather Be Tonight | Mature | 31616 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

BLFF Prompt 180: Louis meets a guy named Marcel on tinder, but Marcel is actually the popstar Harry Styles who just sold out two nights at Madison Square Garden.

34) Inside The Magic Hour | Explicit | 32432 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Given the chance to create a queer remake of 1981 Film Noir classic, Body Heat, up-and-coming director Harry Styles casts one of his best friends in a leading role. Unfortunately, this proves to be a real test of his patience and creative professionalism, when he casts the beautiful and sweet Louis Tomlinson to portray the male version of the feminine and seductive Maddy Walker.

35) Love Will Tear Us Apart | Mature | 33632 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Soulmates AU. Except they're not eachother's soulmates.

36) Like The Stars Above | Explicit | 33759 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis has a witchy little secret that is slowly ruining his relationship. When that secret comes out, it turns out that he has a lot more to worry about than just losing the love of his life. He might lose everything.

37) Tell Me How To Win Your Heart (For I Haven't Got A Clue) | Explicit | 33848 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

The one where Louis is content to embark on his last year of Hogwarts with his three best mates by his side. He's also got the library, his cat Marmalade, and all the Butterbeer in the world. Getting assigned to be yearlong parters with a certain horrid, curly-haired Quidditch star Alpha whom he's sincerely detested for forever, was not part of the plan.

38) These Hallowed Woods | Not Rated | 35535 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis becomes Luna of the Tomlinson Pack after the untimely death of his father, the Pack Alpha. Saddled with his newfound responsibility and an unpleasantly demanding pack council, he finds secret respite in the arms of a rogue wolf that camps out just outside his territory. The only problem? The rogue has no idea who Louis actually is, and as Louis falls harder and harder for the man he escapes to every night, the weight of his lies steers him along a path of certain misery.

39) Letters to June | Mature | 41150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

40) Even If It’s Just Pretend (Say You'll Remember Me) | Explicit | 43003 words

An enemies to lovers AU based on Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams.

41) Full Moon Dreaming | Explicit | 43255 words

Every month, Full Moon Dreaming reveals a person’s soulmate. Sometimes it’s an object or a place, or for the lucky ones, the love of their life.

Louis has given up hope of dreaming of a person, resigned to living a life devoid of that kind of all-consuming love for another and receiving the same in return.

But when a new neighbour descends on Louis’ beloved Hanson Bay and moves into the other beach house, could all that be about to change?

42) Give My Love A Four Letter Name | Explicit | 46627 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis hates Harry because he's a demon. Harry hates Louis because Louis hates him. Things change.

43) One Heart Broke, Four Hands Bloody | Explicit | 47249 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis’ life is really fucking dull until one day he happens upon the scene of a crime, as said crime is happening. A murderer with big hands and a charming smile somehow manages to change his life for the better.

44) I Can’t Help It (If You Look Like An Angel) | Explicit | 52276 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis remembered how just moments before he had been grateful at the pieces in display being anonymous for everyone that wanted to see them, a thin veil that protected the artists established firmly in place despite the disappointed faces from the gallery visitors when they realised they couldn't track what their eyes saw back to anyone, and they couldn’t demand any kind of explanations from them regarding what they felt.

That relief got lost in the back of his mind when his eyes caught onto the painting, the obvious attentiveness and care poured in the canvas making his chest hurt.

What do you find to be the most beautiful thing in the world?

Apparently, for someone, it was him.

45) Ever I Saw | Mature | 58342 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Daisy Road Ranch. A place for those in need to receive the help they deserve, even when they may not believe it. A place where they don’t have to fear what, or whom they left behind. A place where they can find themselves, or find a different way of coping with their issues. Daisy Road Ranch. A therapy ranch for those who’ve been abused.

Louis needs to find himself again. Harry wants to help. Can they find their way?

46) Soulmates | Mature | 62573 words

Louis is a 21-year-old omega who pretends to be an alpha to be on the football team for Manchester United and please his father. Harry is a 19-year-old alpha who is a medical student at the University of Manchester. Harry's friend forces him out of his books for the night, and they go to a football game where he catches Louis's scent, and it's intoxicating. The same goes for Louis, the scent distracts Louis, and he's trying to find who it is, and another player accidentally collided with Louis, and he gets injured.

47) Crowded Town Or Silent Bed, Pick A Place To Rest Your Head | Explicit | 63577 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Poem. I made you a poem.”

“Oh yeah? Can I hear your poem?” Louis turns on the car and exits the school building.

“Wait.” Louis takes a glance and sees his daughter struggle to open her bag, strained thanks to the safety belt. “Aha!” She shouts when she finally finds the wrinkled paper. She clears her throat dramatically. “My mama is cool, because one day he took me to the pool. My mama is beautiful, and I feel grateful. My mama is pocketful, because his pocket is always full.”

Louis ruffles Chrys’ hair making the green-eyed kid groan and swat his hand away.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Louis’ voice is soft.

“Well, duh. You’re the most beautiful person on Earth, mama.” She pauses for a moment. “Although, Uncle Zayn is beautiful too. But, still, you’re the most beautifulest.” She grins.

Louis’ heart clenches at that. Not because she just said he’s the most beautiful person in the world. But, because of the way she said it. Awfully similar to the other person who has the same green eyes as her. And the way she grins after that, identical.

48) Shooting Stars In The Woods | Explicit | 81782 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

A Tudor era AU. Prince Louis I of England has everything a man could ever dream of, but his lack of husband is driving his father, the King, to madness. But Louis doesn't want any of the eligible bachelors his father pushes his way. All he wants is to be able to do is marry the knight he's been in love with for two years now.

The love story of a royal and his servant, separated by class but joined by heart. Their relationship has remained a careful secret for a long time now, but when a threat to the kingdom forces them both to leave the palace, it turns out their secret isn't the only one that could topple everything they’ve ever known.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[nev3rfound]

keeping an eye out : h.z

whilst Bucky and Sam are out in Riga looking for any information regarding the flag smashers, you are instructed to watch Zemo. and it's safe to say you definitely kept a close eye on him. (1.8k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: not really? i remember someone asked for some kind of zemo smut and this was my best attempt lmao with angst and fluff of course warnings: brief mentions of poorly written smut, mentions of tfatws series so if you've not seen it minor spoilers ahead (I think)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Standing in the streets of Riga. Bucky could feel the civilians watching the two of them closely. "She answered yet?" Sam asks whilst Bucky continues to pace around in a circle with his phone to his ear, listening to it continuously ring waiting for you to answer.

"Does it look like she's answered, Sam?" Bucky quickly retorts, glaring over his shoulder causing Sam to huff loudly and take his phone out from his pocket.

"Let me try too." He mutters, dialling your number and listens for himself as it goes straight to voicemail.

"You get through, huh?" Bucky questions, hanging up as your voicemail message plays for the eighth time in a row.

Burying his phone back into his pocket, Sam looks around. "Got any bright ideas?"

Bucky shuffles on the spot. "It's not like she can be busy, she's babysitting Zemo." Bucky reminds Sam who nods along.

"Hardly a handful for her." Sam jokes as he and Bucky carry on through the streets of Riga, hoping to find some answers.

Yet, back at Zemo's apartment, you were technically keeping an eye on Zemo since he was currently above you in his bed.

"Fuck, Zemo, don't stop." You pant heavily against his ear, faintly hearing your phone ringing from the bedside table.

Zemo reaches down and grips your face. "Focus on me, liebling, nothing else." He breathes out, keeping his eyes fixated on yours. "Is that clear, princess?"

Nodding in response, you can feel the coil inside of you tightening as a moan escapes your lips. "Helmut, I," You stutter, only to feel Zemo pick up his pace, slamming his dick in and out of you faster.

"Hold it, just think what would happen if James and Sam walked in, seeing you begging to cum beneath me." Zemo chuckles, feeling your nails claw at his back, begging for your release.

"Helmut, please," You try not to cry, but you can't hold on for much longer as he continues to thrust into you.

"Cum for me, Y/n." Zemo demands. "You can let go, princess." He softly tells you, watching you become undone beneath him, causing a smile to grow on his face as sweat gleams across your forehead.

Slowly pulling out from you, Zemo moans as he pulls off the condom and heads to the bathroom.

When he returns, he can feel his heartbeat accelerating at the sight of you lying in his bed, the sheets around you creased, your legs still parted and your eyes remaining closed.

"Y/n?" Zemo speaks up, watching you slowly opening your eyes only to see him holding a towel for you. "How about a bath, liebling?"

Smiling, you shuffle off of the bed with Zemo's help, his hand remaining in yours as you walk into the lavish bathroom, the tub close to full already.

"You better not try and escape whilst I'm relaxing, Baron." You quickly comment, looking over your shoulder, watching Zemo leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

"On the contrary," Pushing himself off from the door frame, Zemo reaches out and brushes his fingers along your shoulders, feeling you shudder in response. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you." He whispers into your ear.

You quickly turn around, looking up at those brown eyes intently. "Helmut," You start, but Zemo shushes you before you can object.

"I mean it, Y/n." Zemo tells you, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek softly. "Now, come, the bath might overflow if you don't get in." He chuckles and brushes past you to turn the tap off.

"Thank you, Helmut." You mutter as you climb into the warm water, letting out a sigh of contentment whilst you lower yourself and close your eyes.

"How is it, mi schatz?" Zemo knows it's the perfect temperature, noticing how you're fully relaxed, a rare occurrence since he's known you.

Humming in response, you open one eye, noticing he's still stood there in a robe. "Why don't you join me? There's room for two I'm sure." You tease, bringing your legs close to your chest.

"Are you sure?" You can tell he's hesitant, but once you nod he removes his robe and motions for you to move forward, allowing him to slot in behind you.

The water spills over the edge at the sudden movement, but you lie back against Zemo's chest, your wet hair brushed over your shoulder as his hands settle on your thighs.

"Can you tell me a story?" You speak up after a moment of silence settled between you both.

Smiling down at you, Zemo nods. "What would you like to hear?"

"I, I'd like to know more about Sokovia. I know I wasn't there when," You trail off, knowing you don't have to explain yourself. "but, it was your home, part of who you are Helmut and I'd like, no I, I'd love to know about it."

You can feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest at Zemo's prolonged silence behind you. Yet, you can't bring yourself to glance up to see what he's thinking.

However, Zemo is trying to remain composed. "Of course," He eventually answers, hearing the breath of relief escape your lips. "well, when I was a child, my father had a farm which we used to visit on weekends,"

*

Pulling the soft robe tightly around you, you couldn't help but struggle to keep your eyes open as you wandered around the kitchen.

"Tired?" Zemo can hear you yawn before you're able to reply, listening to you laugh at yourself whilst he leans against the kitchen counter. "Why don't you lie down, you know I'm not going anywhere." He reassures you, seeing your limbs growing heavy as you shuffle around the counter to stand in front of him.

"I'll be fine, the boys won't be much longer." You mumble through another yawn, feeling your body craving sleep after that relaxing bath. "I blame you, Helmut." Pointing to him, you try your best to glare at him, but the sound of Zemo laughing makes it impossible.

Motioning to the sofa, Zemo rests his hand on your lower back in an attempt to guide you to the said sofa before you fall over. "Now, I'll be right back, I promise." He mutters as you pull on a cushion, burying it beneath your head. Leaning down, Zemo gently brushes your damp hair out from your face, taking a moment to admire how truly beautiful you are and kisses your forehead delicately.

"You are joining me, right?" You mumble through thick sleep, not even able to open your eyes to see Zemo nod as his heart melts.

"Of course, liebling. But I must change first." He assures you before retreating upstairs, knowing there's a fair bit of mess to clean up.

Whilst occupied in the bathroom and you in a deep sleep, neither of you hear the doors opening in a panic.

"Oh thank god." Sam sighs in relief to see you curled up on the sofa, not taking into account the robe you're wearing.

"Where's Zemo?" Bucky tenses up as he scours his peripheral where Zemo is nowhere to be seen. "Check on Y/n. Make sure she's not been given anything."

Rushing toward you, Sam pauses at the sound of footsteps approaching the main living space of the apartment.

"Ah, I was wondering where you two might've been." Zemo walks in, wearing a matching robe to yours as his hair is slicked back. "Did you have a pleasant adventure?" He smiles at the pair who only glare back in response.

"What did you do to Y/n." Bucky snarls, encroaching on Zemo's personal space.

"Nothing." Zemo answers, holding his hands up. "She could barely keep her eyes open so I insisted she took a nap." He explains, glancing over to your sleeping form, remembering how mere hours ago you were screaming his name.

"I doubt that." Sam comments, kneeling down in front of you as he shakes you lightly. "Y/n, come on." He mutters, causing you to stir.

"Helmut?" You whisper, unaware of Sam snapping his head around to Bucky and Zemo.

"Did she just?" Bucky doesn't even finish his question before Sam nods. Averting his focus back to Zemo, Bucky can't stop his frustration from rising. "What did you do to Y/n." He asks once again now clenching his fists tightly.

Opening your eyes, you rub them quickly at the sound of commotion. "What's going on?" Sitting upright, you blink a few times to see both Sam and Bucky standing by Zemo with heavy frowns. "Hey guys." You wave, covering your mouth as you yawn again.

"How long has this been going on?" Bucky demands, evidently disappointed as he looks over at you.

"James, please calm-" Zemo starts, but Bucky grabs the empty whiskey glass beside him and throws it against the wall, causing you to jump whilst Zemo remains stoic.

"How long." He asks again, not daring to take his eyes off of Zemo.

"Since Madripoor." You speak up, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you tug on your robe. "Bucky,"

"I don't wanna hear it." Bucky cuts you off. "We can talk about this tomorrow." He sighs and heads back out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." Sam comments. "I, I don't agree with whatever this is, but I trust you Y/n, and Bucky does too." He nods to you before following after Bucky, leaving you and Zemo alone once more.

"Y/n," Zemo starts, but you can't help but crumble.

Tears start to fall from your eyes without hesitation as you curl up on the ground. Zemo sits beside you, wrapping his arms around you and turns you into his chest. "It's going to be alright, liebling." He hushes you, running his fingers through your hair.

"What if they won't forgive me, Helmut?" You hate to imagine what could happen, but you knew your actions would have eventual consequences.

"Oh, Y/n," Zemo sighs, wiping away your tears. "I know they'll come around. They're your friends after all." He admits, not adding the fact he might not be around for much longer. "Come, let's go to bed, yes?" He suggests and helps you to your feet.

Walking together in silence, you enter his bedroom again only to see the bed made with fresh sheets.

"Did you?" You look up at him to see a light blush crossing his cheeks. "You knew I'd end up back in your bed, huh?" You joke playfully, listening to Zemo chuckle whilst he shakes his head.

"I didn't know, but I'd hoped it would be the case." He shrugs his shoulder before pulling the sheets back and climbs in alongside you. "Now, whatever the morning brings, we'll face it together." He whispers into your lips before kissing you softly, never wanting to forget any of these moments with you.

Pulling away, you sigh. "You promise?" You whisper, just about making out his expression in the moonlight.

"I promise." He smiles at you once more before you bury your face into his chest, falling asleep within minutes whilst he remains wide awake. Zemo knows there are watchful eyes never leaving him and won't until he's back where he belongs, without you by his side.

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[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.

[jiminrings]

why do i feel like even if tae is the one who's injured AND caught between stem koo and senior oc's tension, jungkook would STILL be the one who's crying

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

there's fINALLY some sort of peace and redemption between them

taehyung has never been indirectly involved in a palpable situation like this

the last time he was involved in anything remotely close to this, it had something to do with his field trip in second grade

whew god that was a rEALLY pressuring experience for him

it was a split vote to whether they should go to a strawberry field or a newly-opened futuristic kid-friendly interactive dinosaur museum SLASH theme park!!!!!!!

then taehyung picked the strawberry farm that was about 70% dirt

tae's put into a situation again and he doesn't know how to act lmao

"y'okay sweetheart? what's your relation to them?" the kind nurse that's obviously the maternal figure of the emergency ward asks him as she assesses him, a bit of a queue before he could get his leg patched up

he is beyond glad that she asked :D

tae's here to get his leg casted and entertain himself for the meantime!!! his fun isn't exactly correlated to that brooding fucking stem nerd's definition of it!!!

taehyung points to you directly, a cheeky grin on his face as you tilt your head in alert from your seat beside him

"she's my girlfriend!"

you chuckle at his playfulness and even the nurse does so with how proud he sounded, about to scribble it down on her clipboard when someone clearly sounds panicked about it

"she's not his girlfriend," jungkook rises from his slouched position on his seat, wide eyes fixated on the nurse as he shakes his head, trying to make her believe him

it isn't true!!!! that's misinformation!!! that's a crime!!!!

tae snaps his fingers, solemnly shaking his head

"right, my bad!! the two of us aren't in a relationship. actually, the three-..."

god oW

jungkook can't help but whack the back of taehyung's head, their boundary from being semi-strangers in your year you see like twice a day now crossing into semi-friends who aren't reserved with each other jUST because of kook's smack

that's a silent understanding, basically

tae smacks jungkook right back, only stopping on bickering when you intentionally clang your watch on the bedframe to spook them, exiting from the curtain so you could talk with the nurse

being caught in the middle of things cOULD really be fun!!! tae should get involved more often

"so tHIS is why you were outside y/n's dorm when i gave yoongi the cookies!!"

"... you know?"

kook freezes at the possibility that for some way he can't think of, taehyung somehow knows what happened between the two of you

was that why he just hAPPENED to drop by cookies when he was talking with yoongi??

yeah uhm not really

"no. i just know that yoongi hung you out to dry," he snorts because as he recalls it, jungkook looked as pale as a ghost

he didn't really plan to arrive at that time either!!! taehyung just wanted to knock on your door and hopefully drop you his treats then he'll be off his way

he didn't exactly expect to walk in on yoongi looking like he's gonna deck jungkook if only he hadn't yelled out his senior's name

see? it's like the universe just wants taehyung to be at the right places at the wrong times in order for them to eventually fall into place

okay he kinda did take a major L for having his ankle busted but that only means that you and jungkook (even if he doesn't know anything) better make up!!!

“is it bad that i wanted yoongi to punch me that time?” jungkook wonders out loud and he almost wishes he hadn’t, getting an immediate reaction of agreement

“i’ll fill in for him!!” tae half-jokes, getting yet another smack to his shoulder and at that rate, they’d be brothers by tomorrow lmao

“anyways,” he sighs as he leans back to his pillow, keeping his foot elevated. technically, this isn’t his business at all, but what could he do?? he’s sort-of-involved now and jungkook looks like he’s gonna cry out of all people, “you just want yoongi to deck you because that’d absolve you of your guilt.”

kook sighs at that, gripping his hair to keep himself from crying

“but i already know i’m guilty. not only with yoongi, but y/n especially!!”

he whistles at that, getting a mental image with your fists balled because he’s hung around enough practices to photograph all of you for the school paper, knowing that you dO pack a lot of power

“so them decking you is the only way you would feel guiltless?”

jungkook shifts at that, murmuring his answer to the question he’s got thrown

“w-well getting my apology accepted by them would be much appreciated.”

taehyung practically spoon-feeds the answer jungkook need to hear, shrugging carelessly as he watches the boy’s turmoil

god what does he dO?? this is his first interaction with you ever since the incident and he doesn’t know how to act

of all places and scenarios, it just hAD to be in the hospital because stoopid taehyung here decided to run to you while in the rain

as if on cue do you return to the curtained area with a nurse, forms between your fingers

“time to get your x-ray done, tae,” you almost sing-song to him in cheer, being relieved that things were picking up faster than you intended it to

you pat him on the head in an attempt at affection, oblivious to the curious glances that jungkook gives you while he assists the nurse in transferring taehyung to the wheelchair

it’s not until the curtain closes again and taehyung’s gone that you move, hand outstretched to give something to jungkook

.... which is just his share of taehyung’s forms that he needed to fill out so you could get on faster

the two of you are sitting beside each other, chairs close but not exactly close, clipboard in hand and taehyung’s phone at the middle edge of the hospital bed so you could copy his information

jungkook kNOWS he should be focusing on writing tae’s blood type right now, but the spur of the moment nudges him on entirely

"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry."

he squeaks and he has to breathe out after that

well there it goes :-)

you knew that the day wouldn’t have finished without jungkook’s input, having avoided him long enough that you didn’t know what to feel

were you expecting an apology from him??? uhm not exactly

are you commending him for apologizing??? not at all!! thanking someone for apologizing over what they’ve done to you in the first place is just a new low

“i know i can’t take back what i said now, but i truly didn’t mean it. i-i was just so confused but — b-but i’m not making excuses!! what i did was beyond shitty of me.”

oh hold on a second

that’s the first time you heard jungkook cuss

you wring your hands as you try to absorb his apology as much as possible without feeling awkward

ok you’re not as good for tHIS type of confrontation

it’s not the first time you’ve been wronged but this is perhaps the first time someone owned up to their wrong and apologize for it face-to-face

,,,,,, and not just because yoongi gave them a piece of his mind

yoongi likes fighting battles for you at times, even if you don’t necessarily ask him to

you appreciate it, but you kNOW he did not get jungkook off the hook so easily!!!!

you honestly thought that with his temper, he would’ve punched jungkook even if it was gonna make you mad

“it’s totally up to you if you don’t want to forgive me, b-but i figured i could die trying, y’know? you can reject me a couple hundred times and i’ll retry a couple thousand.”

jungkook adds and it makes the corner of your mouth raise in the tiniest most miniscule way

he knows that not only does he need to apologize with words, he also nEEDS to make it up to you with his actions!!! that’s why he plans on-

you pause your writing on the form, the act of you doing so making him freeze all the same as you try to carry on with speaking as inaudible as possible

"well you know now. i like you, that was my fault," you offer in response to his apology, coughing when you realize your mistake. "i liked you, i mean."

ok he deserved that

jungkook knows you probably figured out the hyeji situation already through yoongi, cutting his explanations down because you don’t even wanna hear her name

was it the truth? do you really not like jungkook anymore?

....

......

.........

you simmer in the own silence you’ve created, only being broken when jungkook shyly murmurs

"can't you like me some more?"

you snort at what seemed to be his playful suggestion, chuckling to yourself

jungkook was only hALF-kidding and he bows his head in embarrassment over your reaction, the pen in his hand feeling extremely light with how his hand’s trembling

you resume your writing wordlessly, not even daring to look at your right because jungkook’s trying to make himself as small as possible too

the words are just dying to fall out from his mouth, an unhinged trap he could no longer regulate when it comes to you

"you're loveable. extremely loveable."

jungkook says out of nowhere and you falter at writing taehyung’s supposed food allergies, a quiet curiosity to your words

"how would you know that?"

there’s no thought process behind it as he speaks surely this time, only taking the slightest bit of courage to look at you from the corner of his eye

"because it's you."

,,,,,

HOW are you supposed to react to that,,,

the curtains peek open and a grinning taehyung on a wheelchair estatically waves his hand

you and jungkook split from each other even if you haven’t been that close enough immediately, thankful for the welcome interruption

tae outstretches his arms for you to hoist him up the bed and you agree instantly, oblivious to the fact that he’s sticking his tongue out to jungkook who’s giving him a mean glare for his playfulness

his x-rays are all finished and he’s just waiting for the doc to come and interpret them (even if it’s beyond obvious that his ankle’s broken!!!!) so he could get on with wrapping his leg with a cast

jungkook takes this as a chance to rise up from his seat, snatching the opportunities he can within the timeframe

"what do you guys want from the cafeteria?"

tae beams at that, grateful because fINALLY someone’s asked him

"ooh!! i want-"

"what would you like, y/n?"

jungkook continues as he effectively interrupts taehyung who’s squinting and looks beyond offended ay the moment

his motive is buying <3 you <3 dinner!! not mr. ankle-breaker over here

you catch on to what he’s trying to do immediately, rolling your eyes with a hint of amusement when you plop back to your chair

“i'll have what taehyung wants.”

huh....

so he has no choice then but to ask,.,.,

jungkook clears his throat, his lips curved to a smile but his eyes looking the furthest thing from friendly

"what would you like,,,, taehyung?"

the boy pretend to be deep in thought just to waste kook’s time even more, even throwing in the humming to sell the idea

he’s been humming for half a minute now

“pasta. i want pasta. like, the most expensive pasta they have,” he nods at the amazement he has for himself, sneaking a look to a narrow-eyed jungkook

“c’mon, kook. think about y/n. she’s getting what i’m getting!!”

jungkook’s eyes instantly become brighter, realization sweeping over his features as he tries to hurry because you might be hungry at this point

“right, of course!! i’ll even get dessert :D”

well wasn’t tHAT easy hee-hee

hey maybe getting your ankle busted does lead to better things!!!

jungkook’s never been more excited to pay for overpriced pasta in cash (!!!) and carry up multiple paper bags of food and drinks on the stairs because the elevator’s taking too long

he’s only slightly confused when he walks to your spot that taehyung wasn’t there, even kinda being relieved actually

tae was whisked away for the second and final time to have his leg wrapped up, leaving you and jungkook alone once again

“that looks expensive.”

you remark the moment you see the fancy paper bags, bringing your wallet out to atleast take out a few bills that you think would cover the cost for this hospital dinner

jungkook incessantly shakes his head no, instead making you sit in place so he could turn the area to be a cozy dinner place as best as he could

"i mean it. i'm gonna make it up to you, i swear."

he speaks sometime in the middle of your silent meal, waiting for the time that it’d feel more sincere and not a little forced

ya know he didn’t want to make it seem that buying overpriced dinners correspond to him making it up to you!!!!

"i know."

you answer truthfully because you might have saw this coming, knowing in the back of your head that you wouldn’t put put it past jungkook to be sincere

you hear a noise of surprise when you reply, jungkook immediately putting his hand inside the pocket of his hoodie to fish out something

“your eyedrops, by the way. i meant to give it back to you earlier.”

your eyes skim on the dainty-looking handmade origami box on jungkook’s palm, a fond look he could atleast distinguish

you take it from him nonetheless, unaware at the multiple layers you have yet to know inside said box

“i can always buy a new one.”

he shakes his head at that, scrunching his nose as he mindlessly pokes at the chicken

he thinks back to what he put inside that might’ve been the reason why he didn’t just buy you a new stock in the first place

“i like giving back.”

giving back as in returing feelings too or whatever maybe!!!!! just maybe

he waves you off when you thank him for giving it back, his next words becoming a little weighted on your mind

"open it up when you feel like it. it's up to you."

that was that then

okay maybe not

you’re almost finished with your dinner and you know that you’re about to come home anyway, getting a text from tae that he’s done being wrapped up and is just waiting for his reminders now

why not say what you want to anyway??

"thank you for the lunchbox yesterday, by the way."

jungkook’s the one who’s caught off-guard this time, choking on his rice briefly before questioning you wITHOUT looking pathetic

"h-how did you know it was me??"

your hand only skims to the right of him, having to slightly lean against him to get what you need

it’s tae's record that jungkook had to fill up

you’ve just realized it a little while ago when jungkook was downstairs buying from the cafeteria, the distinct way of how he writes his A’s and curves his Y’s being embedded into your mind

:)

"because it's you."

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Fighting For the Right Side

Warnings: Nightmare [Depiction of child death] ; Mention of death ; Allusion to mass murder and bombs

Words: 3.3k

You were quick to settle into your position in Pogtopia. Every day was primarily spent with Techno, but it was relaxing. You farmed, took trips to the bastion you two had met at, he protected you in fortresses, you two even went mining together. He was a comfortable constant in your world. Even when the voices got to be too much, you were with him. But that might have been what caused it all in the first place.

Settling into the small alcove Tommy said you could use, you decided that you could take this brief moment of quiet to read. You felt safe in the ravine, so much so that you had shed your armor back in Techno’s hidden stronghold.

Once sat in front of the fire, you tossed another small log in the flames. You'd have to go find more wood tomorrow but this was enough; The fire burning was bright enough you didn't need to light a torch and waste extra materials they might need, and the air warm enough you only needed a small throw blanket for added comfort to cuddle during the parts of your book the suspense physically got to you.

And so you got comfortable. You relaxed against the wall and you opened your book. Page 47.

Suddenly, sounds bombarded the child - a mad rustling, and then, twit twit, echoing over and over. They were familiar sounds, not particularly frightening, but unplaceable. A heartbeat was louder than anything else and the small nine year old could only wish that the sound were quieter. That everything was quieter.

The maze was an overgrown thing. Something so large that anyone who encountered it knew they could never escape. The shadows kept moving though; rushing faster than legs could ever hope to outrun. Faster and faster they crawled like vines all around. And soon the child was engulfed. Darkness spread to every limb, smothering wails that spilled from parted lips. There were no cries for help or alerts to any who would listen. Soon, nothing remained.

The crash had startled you awake. Your nightmare releasing it’s hold from you at the sudden sound. You relaxed quickly, however, seeing Wilbur in a heap next to the stairs. He must have fallen again. You pressed your lips together, remembering Techno’s words. “We used to have railin’s but Wilbur, he just really enjoyed fallin’ to his death.”

The brunet slowly got up and pat himself off before looking up at you and smiling. A smile like that could have made sunflowers turn to revel in its glow.

“Oh, hey. Sorry for waking you.” His voice was soft, probably to not wake anyone else if they hadn’t already been awoken already.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn’t a very good dream.” He nodded at you in understanding. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

The teasing smile on your lips grew bigger when his smile soured and he scoffed, grumbling to himself about how every mission was technically a secret one.

Yours fell away when he started walking off, his softness darkened with the thought of what happened during his outing. You hesitated. You didn’t want to wake Techno. You two were only just growing closer and you didn’t know how the hybrid reacted to missing out on the little sleep he was actually getting. But you didn’t want to be with your thoughts. Despite not being even remotely close to the man now leaving you behind, you reached out for him. “Hey Wilbur?” He turned to look at you. "Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don't want to be alone after that."

You watched his brown eyes brighten and a boyish grin overtake his lips. It reminded you of Tommy’s. You briefly wondered if his mood always swung this dramatically. “I'll stay for as long as you need." He made his way to sit with you and you added another log to the fire, sitting up so the rock digging into your spine shifted away. Wilbur sat across from you, his presence immediately making you relax.

"So, Mr. Leader," You taunted once more, "What was the secret mission?"

In the coming days, you and Wilbur spent more time together. He’d tell you the most random facts about himself whilst you two worked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay it any mind.

-

"Hey [y/n], guess what?"

"Hm?"

"I was born on September 14th. That makes me a Virgo."

-

"Did you know I can play guitar?"

"I think everyone knows that about you, Wilbur. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought you might wanna hear me play you something sometime..."

-

"You know, I was once married to this wonderful salmon named Sally. You remind me of her sometimes."

-

“With you on our side, [y/n], I know that we’re going to win L’manburg back. And I promise you’ll have a spot in my cabinet.”

It was decided. Techno and yourself would attend the festival while Wilbur and Tommy hung back and watched from a safe distance. You were nervous. A bad feeling grew like a stone in your stomach as they all prepared.

"Hey [y/n], come here a moment, will you?" Sighing as you stood from the chest you were going through, you felt your back pop in a few different places and you hissed before walking to where Wilbur stood. It was silent in the ravine, everyone just as anxious about the festival as you.

"Yeah?" You asked, resting a hand on his arm as you peeked around him at the paper on the table. It was a map of Manburg with “x”s scattered across it.

"Are you prepared?" He glanced down at you, watching the crease in your eyebrows deepen as you examined the plans.

"Mhm." You hummed, finally looking up at him. His eyes were so warm when they looked at you, just like Techno’s. Even if he didn’t have a smile, they were always filled with that same warmth that made you feel important. The two were more like brothers than either cared to admit. "Why?"

"Can I tell you something and you keep it a secret from Tommy and Techno?" Everything around you felt like it had stilled. Everything waiting for the other shoe to drop. The stone suddenly felt heavier.

"What is it?” He continued looking at you and you found it almost hard to breathe. "Wilbur?"

His hand reached to cup your cheek gently. They weren’t calloused like Technoblade’s. They were the hands of a poet, of a musician, of someone whose hand reached for the quill not the sword. They smelled of gunpowder. Your heart felt like it was in your throat when you realized what all of those “x”s were.

“You would risk letting all those people die just so you could have L’manburg back? Why?”

His voice came out hoarse when he finally brought himself to speak. "Because if I can’t have it, no one can, [y/n]. I'm so sorry."

Your lips trembled. You thought of all of the innocent people who would never see it coming. You thought of Tommy and Techno, getting ready in another part of the ravine who wouldn’t know until it was too late. You thought of the man before you who probably felt like he was doomed to keep repeating this action again and again. When had blowing something up ever worked in his past lifetimes? He had to know that this was crazy, right?

Wilbur continued to stare at your frightened face for a moment. He looked so serious. His dark eyebrows drawn together and lips turned just the slightest bit downward. But his eyes? The warmth that filled them seemed to be slowly draining and being replaced with dark melancholy. You hated that look on him and drew your hand up to hold the one cradling your face. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. There is always another way.”

Wilbur stepped forward, pulling you into an embrace that smelled of cedar and leather. His hand left your cheek to instead hold your head to his chest. You didn’t like this hug. This hug felt like he knew things were going to go horribly wrong and he didn’t want you to see the aftermath of it. “If there were one, we would have found it by now.”

Your hands gripped the soft material of his trench coat and you pressed your face into his sweater. You didn’t want this. You were happy to help where you could, but you didn’t want to be a part of the destruction of a nation. You just wanted to help your friends overthrow a tyrant. “I wish I were as brave as you, Wil.”

The soft huff of a chuckle reverberated through his chest as he squeezed you tighter. “Did you know that that’s the first time you’ve called me something other than my name?” His voice was uplifted at the end. He almost sounded happy by the thought. It was squashed when he sighed, pressing his face into your hair. “I wouldn’t call it bravery, though. Still, I promise that we’ll all end up on the other side of this together.”

You tilted your head up a bit to look at him. “Where else would we be?”

He didn’t answer you, just held you tighter.

If there was one thing Wilbur couldn’t describe himself as, it was good.

In previous lives, he had been a cruel, sadistic god. He forced hundreds of people to compete for his entertainment. They were rats, moles, ants, sometimes even just humans while he played the part of omnipotent creator. He had been a king sometimes, or a hero. And time and time again, he was just an older brother. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to save the people who loved him the most. He couldn’t protect the ones who looked up to him; be it because he found sick joy in their deaths, or because he wasn’t strong enough.

He never felt strong enough.

When Technoblade had told him of the strange person whom he had met in the nether, he almost brushed it off. There was no way he had met someone whom he hadn’t shared at least one lifetime with. There was no such thing as new players who weren’t just NPCs.

However, when you stepped into the ravine, inventory absolutely filled with different items that you just willingly handed over to the pink haired hybrid with a smile, he was utterly floored. The curve of your lips, the tone of your voice, even the look in your eyes were all new to him. He had never once met you.

He approached the two of you with hurried steps, wondering what kind of trick you were playing, only to freeze when you turned your gaze to him. He could hear his own blood rushing through his ears and, for a moment, he wondered if you could hear it too. The expression you wore unnerved him. It was as if you had seen every lifetime, every possibility. Yet you still had the nerve to smile shyly at him. When you waved at him in silent greeting, he knew Technoblade had been completely correct in his assumption. Your lives were missing from your wrist.

You were an investment.

But no one made him feel as powerless as you did.

You were able to try things over and over and over again. You weren’t held back by memories of mistakes or fears. The tiny flits of trauma they all seemed to feel were just… absent in your being. You were unapologetic about running errands in Manburg and doing reconnaissance whilst you were out, seemingly unafraid during the recounts you had given him of meeting Schlatt and Tubbo for the first time.

And this seemed to hold true in your interactions with Tubbo. He didn’t treat you with the same feral energy he shared with Tommy or the attitude he put forth for his leaders. When you weren’t spending almost every waking moment with Technoblade, the soft murmur of your soft voices being heard through the stone walls that led to the farm, you were interacting with one or both of the teenagers that helped fuel the rebellion. Tubbo told you about new ideas he had, or described to you his day, or even just explained to you things that even he himself knew he would have trouble understanding, despite Tubbo being the one to explain them. Wilbur noticed that you just did that. You listened patiently while someone talked, despite the knowing look in your eye that made him feel like you already knew exactly what they were about to say. And this seemed to carry over into your relationship with Tommy.

You paid rapt attention to the blond, reminding him that even if he was still technically a child, that doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be listened to. The oddest part he found, though? Tommy actually returned the favor in kind. It wasn’t so much that you would go on long-winded tangents and he’d be forced to sit there and listen. It was that when you asked or told the sixteen year old to do something, he did it without too much of a fight. That’s not to say he wouldn’t talk back to you, he did almost every time, but it was the point that he would still do what you said without much hesitation. And every single time, Wilbur felt the sharpest stab of envy.

He had questioned Tommy after the first couple instances of it happening before him. He had cornered the very person who had been his younger brother in many previous lives against the cold stone wall on one of the walk ways while you and Techno were out gathering things from the nether and demanded to know why. However, the young soldier just shrugged in response. “They just usually have very fun ideas.” He had stared long and hard at the blonde, the other fiddling with the hem of his dirty shirt. He made a mental note to ask if you’d be willing to do laundry for them when you next went to Manburg. “That and…”

“And?” Wilbur had immediately prompted, knowing the time he had to question the younger was running short.

“They just have that tone of voice. And something makes me feel like I should listen when they tell me to do something.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to berate him. “Sometimes it feels like they know way more than they should. Like they already know what’s going to happen.”

The brunet’s words died on his tongue.

They all felt like that.

But if you knew so much, why did you never talk about any of your past lives like the rest of them did? If you knew what was going to happen, why were you so patient and let them make mistake after mistake?

The thought sat bitterly at the forefront of his mind as he pat himself off, having fallen off the side of the walkway yet again. He almost regretted removing the child-proofing, but he was an adult, and he didn’t need them, and he certainly wasn’t going to recant his insistence that they didn’t need them. He turned when he heard shifting and saw you slumped against the side of the ravine.

In the dim lighting, you looked different. You were cuddled under a thin blanket, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pressed into a pout that reminded him of a child. He must have awoken you. You looked rather cute like this, though.

He smiled at you despite himself. He was still a little hesitant about being around you. He didn’t need help in his daily activities like Technoblade, he didn’t need a guiding hand like Tommy, and he felt plenty listened to daily, unlike Tubbo.

But somehow, he didn’t feel as loved as you were.

“Oh hey, sorry for waking you.” The words had slipped from his mouth before he had had a chance to stop them. Now he’d be forced to converse with you. He watched your eyes look away from him, even in the dim light.

"It wasn’t a very good dream.” You didn’t have good dreams? What was there to have a nightmare of? He tucked that piece of information away for later, your eyes were back on him. “What were you doing out? On a secret mission?”

His mood immediately dropped, especially when he saw the mocking grin that planted itself on your face. It was as if this were a game to you. “Every mission we pursue is a secret one, you of all people should know that.”

The grin just grew and he felt his chest tighten. How could you act so lax when you seemed to know exactly what happened when he was out there? He turned to walk back to his desk to write about the events that had transpired and quell his anger. He wasn’t truly upset with you, he knew that, and he didn’t want to take that out on the one person that seemed to be holding together his fellow usurpers, but you almost irritated him. His soft steps reverberated through their base.

“Hey Wilbur?”

His steps faltered. Despite your previous mood, you suddenly sounded so small. Afraid. He looked at you from over his shoulder and was surprised to see your extended hand.

“Can you stay for tonight? I don’t want to be alone after that.”

A new feeling sparked in him.

You wanted him? The one who had been so helpful for everyone else, to the cause, even to him on occasion, needed his help? How bad had your dream been? You looked so distraught, so powerless. He didn’t feel so weak when you looked at him like that.

“I’ll stay for as long as you need.” Your eyes held a warmth that could rival the fire in front of them. You moved to feed it and he sat across from you. You two weren’t close in either sense of emotionally or physically.

When had that changed?

He felt compelled to check up on you more after that night, use you as the investment that he believed you to be. No one in Manburg knew of your status, and he was planning on using it to their advantage.

Or, he had been.

But you made him feel safe about sharing things about himself. You were easy to talk to, easy to work around, easy to listen to. You would have been so easy to use.

Maybe that’s why he told you of the plan he and Tubbo had come up with.

You had found your way into much more than his good graces, just like the rest of them, and he didn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. You were so susceptible to influence, he feared you’d start to see him as a villain. He knew what people would say about him. He wanted you to know his thoughts and feelings before you could be tainted by their remarks.

He had shared memories with you before. They all had. Words seemed to fall unencumbered whenever you were around and they were all victim to it. But you hadn’t judged any of them on the actions they had taken in their previous lives. You didn’t even judge them on the actions they had taken in this one. Despite this, he was still scared you’d be turned against him if he wasn’t the one to tell you.

“I think everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

It was his turn to prove that they were fighting for the right side.

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (5/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, stubborn lil cuties denying their feelings

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay so this has 110% become a comfort fic for me to write. But I promise if y’all can hold out for another chapter or so there is gonna be some payoff for this ridiculously slow burn. Pinky promise lmao

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo​ @the-radical-venus​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ @slutformayansmc​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​

You woke up the next morning and instantly smelled coffee. You smiled to yourself despite the soreness in your neck and sides. How he had the energy after yesterday to wake up early and get coffee ready was beyond you. You made your way to the kitchen and were pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn’t dressed up. He was still in his sweatpants and t-shirt. Your smile grew as you saw that his hair was still in a bun on top of his head.

He turned around, a small smile on his face as he handed you a mug with coffee already in it, “Let me know if I made it right.”

You chuckled to yourself as you took a small sip, smiling and nodding, “You’re a quick study, Nestor.” You hefted yourself up onto the counter, “Oh, I let Jade know last night that I wasn’t going to be in at least for today and tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, “Yea. I could use a couple days at home.”

“You can just say you miss my car,” he smirked as he sipped on his coffee.

You rolled your eyes, “You got me. I get teary-eyed every time I think about it sitting all alone at the body shop.”

He shook his head slightly, “So, what’s the plan?”

You shrugged, “There isn’t one. Lazy day today,” you looked at him, “For both of us.”

You were camped out on the couch for most of the morning while Nestor did laundry. He turned his music on again and all you could think was that it breathed a whole new life into the house. You smiled as you played games on your phone, hearing the music get louder and softer as he went up and down the stairs to and from the basement.

“Mind if I use the coffee table to fold?” he asked, hamper perched against his hip.

“Go for it,” you pulled your legs up underneath you so that you weren’t taking up the entire couch.

He sat down next to you and started pulling out clothes one item at a time. You were trying not to stare but you were entranced by how meticulous he was with his folding. If things weren’t lined up just right, he would start over again. He’d dramatically shake out his shirts before restarting the folding process and you fought the urge to laugh.

“They make those little contraptions that make folding easier, you know,” you chuckled.

He looked at you, an unamused expression on his face, “Those wouldn’t fold them right.”

“Apparently you don’t fold them right either. You’ve redone that shirt like three times already.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you returned your attention to your phone, “You never do.”

Nestor was almost done with his laundry. Everything was stacked in neat little piles according to the type of clothing. You tried not to let your smile grow too wide—opting to grab your controller and pull up a videogame to keep you from staring at him. He grabbed two of the piles and walked them back to his room to be put away. You kept the volume of the television off since he had yet to turn his playlist off. Most of the music was mellow and it helped give the house a calm energy which was a nice change of pace after how the previous day had gone.

Once he was done putting his things away, he took his seat back on the opposite end of the couch from you. You smiled to yourself over the fact that he wasn’t trying to stay as far away from you as possible—now he at least let you share the same piece of furniture. He watched you make your little character run around farming land for a few minutes before grabbing his laptop.

You didn’t really notice the time ticking by as the two of you stayed there like that. You could get lost in your games for hours without noticing, and whatever Nestor was working on was keeping his attention locked in. A few times you fought the urge to try and peek over to see what he was even doing, but you didn’t want to ruin the peace.

Once you felt your stomach starting to growl, you looked over at Nestor, “Can we please get pizza delivered?”

He shook his head, “Definitely not.”

“Why not?” you flopped over onto your back so you were on his end of the couch looking up at him, “If you answer the door, they wouldn’t even recognize you with your sweats and your man-bun. We would be totally safe.”

He looked down at you and closed his laptop, “My face is the same face. We’re not getting delivery.”

“But I don’t wanna cook,” you whined.

He set his computer off to the side, “I can cook.”

The statement made you pause. You had been doing all of the cooking since Nestor started staying there solely because that’s what you were used to doing. Living by yourself it was either ordering in or cooking, and delivery had been taken off the table. You hadn’t given much thought to whether or not Nestor could cook. You were more than willing to find out, though.

“You know how to cook?”

He chuckled, “I’m an adult, Y/N. Of course I know how to cook.”

“You live by yourself?” when he didn’t answer you sighed, “I only ask because I’ve found that people who live by themselves either get really good at cooking, or they completely avoid it and depend almost solely on takeout. I’m just trying to figure out which one you are.”

There were a few moments of silence before he nodded, “Yes, I live by myself.”

“In a house?” you raised your eyebrows.

He looked down at you, smiling, “Still don’t need to know that.”

You wanted to make a smartass remark but he didn’t give you the chance. He stood up off the couch and went to the kitchen. You watched from the couch for a few moments, and by the way he knowingly grabbed things out of the fridge and cabinets, you had to assume that he used the mornings when he was up before you to go through all of your cupboards. He took out a cutting board and set a pot of water to boil, and you were instantly interested to know what he was cooking.

“Can I help?” you offered as you peaked over the back of the couch.

He shook his head, “Thought you didn’t wanna cook?”

“I also don’t want you to burn my house down.”

He turned around and faced you, “You can help by staying out of my way.”

“Yes sir,” you said dramatically.

Staying out of the way didn’t mean that you weren’t going to try and lurk closer to see what he was up to. You made your way over and tried to see what he was doing from the edge of the kitchen. He waved you off a couple times, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth despite the fact that he was telling you to get the fuck out of the kitchen.

You attempted to grab yourself something to snack on while you were waiting for Nestor to finish taking over your kitchen, but he body-blocked you from getting to the cabinets. You sighed heavily, “You’re not my father, you can’t tell me that I can’t have a snack before dinner.”

“I never said that.”

“Then move.”

“No,” he smirked, “I told you to stay out of the kitchen.”

“It’s my kitchen!”

“You said this is my home for now too, so technically I think that makes this my kitchen as well.”

You opened your mouth to argue but came up with nothing. You huffed and went back to the couch. You heard him chuckling from the stove and you called over, “If I die of starvation you’ll have to explain it to my father.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

As much as you hated to admit it, dinner was phenomenal and well worth the wait. The two of you were sat on the couch and every time you looked over you could see the smug look on Nestor’s face. Even though you hadn’t said anything, he knew that you were definitely contemplating splitting cooking duty as well as driving duty.

“Hey, Y/N?” he kept his eyes on the television.

“Yea?”

He kept his expression neutral but you could see the light in his eyes, “You’re welcome.”

You laughed and reached behind you, grabbing one of your decorative pillows and throwing it at him, “Fuck you.”

He dodged it with a laugh, “I’m not cleaning up any messes that you make.”

Once you were both done eating, you collected up your plates and brought them over to the sink. Nestor wasn’t really paying much attention until he heard you turn the sink on. He glanced over the back of the couch.

“You’re actually doing dishes?”

You laughed, “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

He nodded and you could see that there was a hint of a smile on his face as he returned his attention to the television. He was only sitting alone for a few moments though before he stood up and wound up next to you, drying the dishes as you set them in the rack.

“Seriously, I got this,” you laughed, “I usually do all of it by myself.”

“Feels weird just sitting there doing nothing while you’re cleaning,” he shrugged.

You didn’t want to argue about it, and you weren’t going to turn him away if he wanted to be a little closer, so with a small sigh you handed him a plate to dry off. The domesticity of it felt nice, but a little strange too. Part of the strangeness came from the fact that you knew you were reading way more into it than he was. You couldn’t help but to steal glances when he was reaching up to put things away.

You had no idea how long he was going to be staying with you, but you knew that you were a timer slowly counting down the minutes until you slipped up and got yourself into some kind of trouble with him.

“It’s still kinda early,” you said as you dried off your hands, “Wanna watch something?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly interested, “Like what?”

You thought about it for a moment, “You ever seen the John Wick movies?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “No. But the fact that it’s plural makes me nervous.”

You rolled your eyes, “You got something better to do tonight besides have a movie marathon?”

You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to come up with a quick remark, but he couldn’t. You tossed the towel at him before walking off to pull up the first movie. You smiled to yourself when you heard the unmistakable sound of popcorn popping in the microwave. You left him to finish getting that ready while you disappeared into your room, reemerging with a few large bags of candy. He heard the rustling and looked at you as you walked into the kitchen, instantly shaking his head.

“Where were you stock-piling all of that?”

“If I told you, it would no longer be a secret stash, now would it?”

The two of you were about twenty minutes into the movie, each perched on your own end of the couch. You had your legs stretched out on the cushions, and Nestor had his feet propped up on the coffee table. The giant bowl of popcorn rested between the two of you, along with the candy you had brought out from your room. It was second best to being able to go to an actual movie theater.

“So you’re telling me,” Nestor looked over at your for a moment, “That I’m about to sit through three movies about a guy who goes on a killing spree because someone killed his dog?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Essentially, yea.”

“Three fuckin’ movies?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you threw a piece of popcorn at him, “Now be quiet or you’ll miss stuff.”

He smiled and settled back against the couch. He racked his brain, trying to remember the last time he got to just exist and be a regular person, and do regular things like stay in and have a movie marathon. It felt foreign and it took a little bit to get comfortable to settle into it. His eyes still darted to the windows and door, not forgetting why he was there in the first place. But even so, it was the most human he’d felt in a long time.

You woke up the next day to the sensation of your phone vibrating against your stomach. You forced your eyes open to see who was calling, hitting accept when you saw that it was your father, “Hello?” your voice was groggy.

“Ah, that’s the daughter I know—still asleep at noon.”

You chuckled as you sat somewhat upright, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “I called off today—I could sleep until four if I really wanted to. What’s up?”

“Just calling to check in. How are you? Estás segura?”

“Claro que sí. You worry too much, Papi. I’m fine.”

“And things are going alright with Nestor?” despite the fact that you had reassured that given the circumstances, you and Nestor got along just fine, he was still worried that you might actually drive the man to quit.

You looked down to the opposite end of the couch where Nestor was laying passed out still, legs entwined with yours in the center as his head leaned back, mouth open as he slept with the bowl of popcorn still resting on his stomach. You smiled to yourself, “Things are fine, I promise.”

“You would tell me if they weren’t?”

“Remember how stupid I thought this whole plan was?” you laughed quietly, “Of course I’d tell you.”

He laughed, and you could picture him sitting in his office shaking his head at you, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to your nap. Te quiero, mija. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Talk soon, te quiero,” you hung up and set the phone on the coffee table.

You shifted so that you were completely upright, but somehow your legs were still tangled up with Nestor’s. You didn’t necessarily mind—it was probably the only physical contact you were going to have with him. It was nice, and it had the added benefit of helping to keep you warm.

Your fidgeting was enough to stir Nestor. He lifted his head up slightly as he opened his eyes. You chuckled to yourself, enjoying that you got to see a side of him you had never seen before. This was a different kind of vulnerable.

He pressed his palm against his forehead, shutting his eyes tight for a moment, “Morning.”

“Afternoon,” you corrected with a laugh.

“What?”

You showed him the time on your phone, “It’s almost 12:30, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Fuck,” he ran his hands down his face.

He looked around the room and it was only then that he realized that the two of you had been, and still were, sharing the couch the way you were. He instantly shifted so that his feet were on the floor, fumbling slightly so he didn’t spill what little popcorn was left in the bowl.

“Now I know your weakness is movie marathons,” you laughed as you pulled your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged, “This is the only time I have ever woken up before you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he stood up and stretched, rolling his neck with a pained look on his face, “Fuck that hurts.”

“Want a neck rub?” you offered up with a laugh.

He shook his head, a tired smile on his face, “And give you the opportunity to snap my neck? You can’t make me watch all those movies and then try to put me in that position.”

“No faith, Nestor,” you smiled as you got up and started cleaning up the mess the two of you had created the night before.

“None at all,” with that he made his way down to his room to get a fresh set of clothes and a towel so he could shower and get ready for the day.

When he came back out to the living room, it had been restored to its former glory. You were just finishing straightening up the pillows when he walked in. You turned around to face him, your expression faltering a little when you saw that his hair was back into its two pristine braids. He still looked good, obviously, but you already missed the mess of curls.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he stood in the living room. It was the first time you had ever seen nerves of any kind show on his face. His brows furrowed as he tried to find the right words, “I know you said I’m not company,” he chuckled slightly, “but, um, thank you.”

You smiled, tilting your head in slight confusion, “For what? You’re the one keeping me safe, I should be thanking you.”

“I just mean, you know, thanks for treating me like a regular person. It’s been a while since I’ve had that.”

Your heart sped up a little bit, and you shook your head, “Don’t thank me, Nestor,” you laughed, “You can just say that I’m a cooler boss than Galindo. I won’t tell anyone.”

He laughed and you saw the way the tension dropped out of his shoulders. There were more words dancing on the tip of your tongue, but before you could say them, Nestor grabbed his laptop and made his way back to his room, slowly shaking his head as he went. You stood there for a moment and watched him walk away, heart still racing inside your chest.

[enviedear]

secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english. 

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up. 

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue. 

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him. 

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes. 

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions. 

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin. 

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom. 

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.” 

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet. 

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe. 

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe. 

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.” 

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you. 

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his. 

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans. 

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

[literaphobe]

okay i’ll bite. what is mcyt and dream smp. like i know what they stand for but what exactly... is it.... is it actually good or just your latest hyperfixation AGSHJSJSKS

oh god beware this is long and also i technically wrote it as part of a tangent to another ask but i realized this response suited this question much better but it also makes references to that ask which i will answer right after this one

“what is minecraft youtube?” well any YouTube video that features minecraft is technically minecraft youtube. i specifically only care about like. dream + friends. i follow the ‘feral boys’ (dream george quackity sapnap karl) mostly? but if ur question is: what is dream known for? the answer is minecraft manhunt and dream smp

so what’s minecraft manhunt? to understand that, u need to understand that minecraft isn’t “just blocks” because it is a beatable game haha. u beat the game by killing the ender dragon and obviously there’s a lot of stuff u need to do to do that. but i won’t bore u w the details. “speedrunning minecraft” means u beat minecraft very fast. dream used to be the record holder for beating minecraft a few months ago. he no longer is but i won’t get into that. it’s an annoying discussion n literally no one cares. all i’ll say is if u really believe he cheated and that he wasn’t being targeted by people who have since been exposed for trying to frame him for saying slurs that he never said (amongst other stuff), then u literally hate neurodivergent people so much. that’s all!

so what is MANHUNT, specifically? basically, dream does a series where x number of people are HUNTING him down and trying to KILL him before he beats the game. if he dies even ONCE, he loses. he’s done this with one hunter (george), two (+sapnap), three (+badboyhalo), four (+antfrost), and now five hunters (+awesamdude)

the hunters have infinite lives, and a compass that leads them to where dream is at any given point in the game. dream is allowed to kill them as many times as he wants, as a form of self preservation

so what’s the allure to manhunt? essentially, it’s how dream plays the game. he’s incredibly skilled at pvp (fighting) and parkour (moving fast and agile that i can’t even begin to explain. u need to see this for urself. it’s even more impressive if u play the game) and “clutching” (how he saves himself from risky moves and all the absolutely CREATIVE ways he does it)

also all the traps he sets to kill the hunters since it’s hard to go up against multiple people no matter how good you are. and how QUICKLY he thinks. it’s amazing. people with adhd are amazing and dream is a PRIME example of that. it makes me less hateful of my adhd :) and more appreciative of my traits :)

how did he do this? lots of research, lots of practice, lots of training. dream used to be a really average minecraft player who had to beg GEORGE to go easy on him. now? george loses to dream even on 40/50 hearts (the usual is 10). dream poured his heart into making his videos, putting a creative spin and skillful spin to his content that had never really been seen/executed as well before. and so 1.5 years after he started actively making YouTube videos he has over 20 million subscribers. and I’m not kidding, that number could be 30 million in a few months from now. that’s how fast he’s growing

ok i got off topic. another great thing about manhunt is dream’s relationship w the HUNTERS. the hunters are friends who dream has known for many years, and also they come up with great plans to defeat him as well. in many ways, they can also be seen as the “underdogs” in manhunt, especially since dream won the 4 hunters series 3-2. anyway in manhunt, all of the players are in an open channel discord voice chat, so they can all hear each other talk, and also talk to each other. sometimes the hunters discuss strategies before the face off, or they dm ideas secretly in the game chat, or attempt to talk in code. but mostly dream can hear the things they say, and they can hear the things he says. it makes it so that they can attempt to trick each other, but they can also hear things that give them a leg up in the game. etc etc. the banter that goes on is like. BIG part of what makes manhunt fun to watch

and the editing...... it is very good and engaging n he chooses fun music :) the speedrun music is a meme by now but it still slaps unironically. he makes excellent choices n i am very entertained

OKAY. so what is dream smp?

(smp stands for Survival Multiplayer. aka: a lot of people play together in a world where u can die and monsters spawn. the dream part is because dream owns the server)

once upon a time, there were two best friends. their names were dream and george. they decided to play minecraft survival together, but they didn’t want to beat the game super fast this time. THIS was about having fun. they wanted to casually explore the world, build a house together, raise some animals, start a farm, etc! after a bit they started to add some of their other friends so more people could have fun with them. and then more people got added. and the dream smp started to include a roleplay aspect because they invited people who did roleplay on other servers

i won’t summarize the events for u. if u wanna know what HAPPENED plot wise, this dude evanmcgaming makes like. summaries that are low key documentaries. very well made, he includes clips from the actual lore streams when necessary! his channel is here and i’ll list the documentaries in order: first | second | third | fourth | fifth

and then this really cool 18 year old Filipino girl started animating events on the dream smp to look REALLY cool n it got so many views and her first animation was done on her PHONE w her FINGER and it made the people on dream smp go damn we need to step the FUCK up so that this girl can get better material for her animations. they are all huge fans of her. everyone is a huge fan of her. she’s called sad-ist, and so far there are 4 main animations: first | second | third | fourth

anyway now! dream smp is essentially what i would call gay planned theatre improv but the medium through which they perform is not a stage but on minecraft. there actually is WRITING involved in this, they script the series of events etc, but for the most part they don’t actively script dialogue afaik?

some truly AMAZING bits of dialogue has come out of the dream smp. the dream smp is basically. gamers transform into theatre kids before ur very eyes + some of these bitches WERE theatre kids and they’re showing it now!

it’s amazing watching the growth because a lot of them have improved leaps and bounds. one of the most notable improved actors is dream ❤️  yea im bringing him up ok because im RIGHT his acting used to just be him screaming but now he can give me chills. he’s very good n is the “main villain” on dream smp :)

and like. not only do we have people like sad-ist animating the smp we have members like quackity who include pre recorded elements in his lore streams to make it just. a truly incredible experience. quackity my beloved. i love him so much

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Ok I would be the happiest if you could do 59. “You own my heart.” & 80. “Lets run away together” with Javi - maybe something soft but angsty? Whatever you think works! I love your writing 💕

A/N: Once I saw these two prompts the ideas for the story I wanted to write for them started flowing and this has honestly been one of my favorite things to write. This fic also comes with some beautiful art drawn by my amazingly talented friend @minilev. She offered to draw something for me and I have never been more honored! Thanks again Anna! And thank you Jessica for such great and inspirational prompts. I hope you enjoy! :)

Javier stood by the window as he reached into his pocket and took out the little box that he had been carrying around with him for the past few days. This little box held a lot of weight. It might have been heavier than anything he's ever carried besides the weight of his sins...and that's what worried him the most. You could say no. You could laugh in his face and tell him that he didn't deserve you--and the truth was: he didn't. He didn't feel worthy of your love. He didn't even deserve the way you smiled at him or laughed at his jokes. 

But you loved him--that much he knew. He didn't quite understand why or how someone as good, as sweet, as you could possibly feel anything for him, but you did and that had been enough.

He was going to ask you tomorrow. He was tired of putting it off. You would either accept or reject him and it was time to find out.

It didn't happen. No. Something stopped him once again and now he sat at your bedside, staring at your sleeping form. He watched your stomach closely to make sure you were still breathing, still holding on. For him. He asked, no, begged you to hold on for him. He didn't deserve that either, but he needed some hope. Any kind of hope that kept him sane. Steve told him to go home and get some rest, but he refused. What if you woke up and he wasn't there?

The doctors told him that you were lucky to be alive and he was tired of hearing that. They told him that the bullet had just missed a major artery. If he could've taken that bullet for you, he would have. A hundred times over. The beeping. He wished it would stop. He wished you would move. He wished he would have asked you sooner.

---

You woke up in a strange place. This wasn't your bedroom...and there was beeping and tubes and…

Javier.

He had been standing at the window looking sadder than you had ever seen him. His eyes were puffy and while one hand rested against the window the other was on his hip. Typical. You smiled or at least you thought you had. Then you tried to call his name, but you had no voice. It came out as a whimper but he must have heard you because he stood up straighter and turned to you slowly.

"Ja...vi…"

He looked as though he would burst into tears at any moment just hearing you say his name again. He ran to your side and sat down on the bed carefully.

"Shhh...don't try to talk. Just keep your eyes open for me, hm? Keep looking at me." He needed that. Oh, how he missed the way you looked at him. 

The doctors and nurses came in soon after and they had to pull him away from you. He hated how they poked and prodded at you and voiced his complaints.

"Do you really have to do all that to her? She just woke up." It took three nurses and security to keep him where he was.

"Javier?" you called out for him.

"She...she needs me." He pushed past everyone to get to you. He held your hand tightly and kissed it. "I'm here, mi amor. I'm here."

It felt like forever before they all left you alone again. You were relieved to have most of those tubes and machines off you. The only thing bothering you now was the pain, but the nurse made sure she gave you something to keep you comfortable.

"When's the last time you slept, Javi?" you asked, your voice still rough from not being used.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. I didn't wanna miss this."

"Well, you know I'm gonna be okay now. You should go home and rest." You squeezed his hand and smiled at him. He stayed quiet for a while, content with just watching you and knowing that you were still here. The words that came out next were so unlike him that he even shocked himself.

"Let's run away together."

You looked at him and giggled. "Now, I know you need to sleep…"

"No. I'm serious. I want to get you the hell out of here, out of Colombia."

When you realized he was serious, you sat yourself up against the pillows better. "Where would we even go?"

"You could come back to Texas with me. Yeah. And-and we could start that farm that you always wanted. Remember telling me about that? We could have horses, cows, chickens...whatever." The smile on his face had to be the loveliest thing you had seen since you woke up.

"You remembered that?" Your voice cracked and he looked down at you.

"I remember everything you say to me." He cleared his throat and looked away as he sniffled. "I thought I lost you and I...I can't, you understand? I wouldn't know what to do…"

"Shhh...come here." You held your arms out and he laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes to the sound of your heart beating.

"I don't know how to be without you anymore. Who else is gonna tell me to get some sleep?" He chuckled then nuzzled you.

"I love you, Javier Peña." It felt good to say those words again. You weren't sure how long it had been since you last spoke them, but saying it again felt wonderful.

"I love you more." That weight still hung heavy in his pocket. Now wasn't the time. He was content with you just holding him.

---

You had been home for a few weeks now. Javier watched you closely and made sure you didn't do anything that would cause overexertion. If he could, he probably would have carried you everywhere. 

The little apartment was full of balloons and flowers and baskets of things that you probably won't ever eat, but you appreciated every single thing. People out there really cared about you. But no one more than Javier. He just wanted to hold you and kiss you and make love to you every chance he got. Some days you just stayed in bed with him all day. He had been lucky enough to get some time off to take care of you.

"I can stay like this forever," you told him as he laid with you in bed after a bath.

"Do you mean stay naked in bed with me or just...with me?" he asked.

"Hmm...both." You both chuckled then you looked at him. "Honestly, I just love being with you. You've been amazing through all of this and I love you so much."

"I love you, too." He kissed you and one thing led to another. He was careful and gentle.

When you eventually got out of bed and put clothes on, Javier seemed to be lost in his thoughts. He sat on the end of the bed looking off at nothing as he buttoned his shirt.

"You okay?" you asked and walked over to sit in his lap. He laid his head on your chest and sighed.

"I don't know…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong I just...can't believe how in love I am. You own my heart."

"And you own mine, Javi. Always." You kissed his forehead then stood up but before you could walk away he took hold of your hand.

"Wait." He stood and made his way over to where his jacket was hanging. Reaching into the pocket, he looked back at you nervously. Once he turned around and your eyes moved back and forth between looking at his face and looking at the little box in his hand.

"Javier...wh-what is that?" You pointed awkwardly. You knew exactly what it was.

"It's been awhile since the last time I did this and that didn't end well at all…" You made a face and he quickly corrected himself. "But with you I know I'll be better. Everything will be better...especially me. You've already made me a better man but if you say yes then I know I can become the best man I can be for you and...myself." He fiddled with the little box. "I've had this for months, you know?"

"Really?" you cried.

"Yeah and I was gonna ask you the day that...that…" He couldn't even say it.

"That I got shot," you finished for him and he nodded.

"And I'm sorry that this isn't romantic and we're not on some fancy date but...we have here and now. So...what do you think? Trust me, I know I don't deserve you but I want to spend the rest of my life making myself worthy of your love."

"This isn't right," you said and his shoulders sagged. "First of all, you didn't technically ask. Secondly, you do deserve me, Javier...more than anyone ever has."

He sighed in relief and moved closer to you before getting down on one knee and opening the box in his hand. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard as he looked up into your eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will. I will marry you, Javier Peña."

"Really? Are you sure?" The nearly slipped out of his hand.

"Yes! Now put that ring on my finger!"

"Oh...yeah...that's right, the ring." His hands trembled as he removed it from its place in the box. He finally did it and you actually said yes. The ring was finally where it belonged. He stood and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "You...you said yes."

"I said yes." You looked at the ring and laughed as he picked you up and spun with you.

"Mrs. Peña has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he asked and you pouted as he put you back on your feet.

"Maybe I want to keep my last name and just hyphenate it...or maybe I was planning on having you take my last name." You walked out of the room and he followed closely, grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek as you yelped.

"You can call yourself whatever you like as long you're waking up next to me every morning."

You turned and gave a quick yet passionate kiss. "I think Mrs. Peña works just fine."