#i am sick though tell me a bedtime story

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

I'm sick in bed, someone rub my head and read me a story

[puddingyun]

tone . ݁₊ ⊹ k.hj

hongjoong x reader

18+ mdni

: 985 words, smut, auralism/voice kink, fingering, some dirty talk :

day 5 of fff24 (catching up since i got sick (╥ᆺ╥；)) ♡

"I'm sorry I'm so late, baby."

Hongjoong's voice pulled you out of the light sleep you'd fallen into. A smile played on your lips as you felt your boyfriend crawl into bed behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close. 

"I got so caught up I didn't realise what time it was," he whispered. He didn't sound sleepy at all, even though when you opened your eyes to squint at your phone the screen displayed a staggering 3:00 AM. You hummed softly as one of Hongjoong's hands slid up your pyjama top to rest against your stomach. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay. Your feet are cold," you mumbled, which made Hongjoong giggle behind you. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck and tangled his feet even more with yours, pulling you both flush together. "Keep talking, Joongie."

"Okay," Hongjoong murmured, his fingers moving back and forth against your skin. "I missed you all day. Missed hearing you talk, and your footsteps around the apartment. I kept wondering what you were up to. What did you get up to, hon?"

Your mind was so fuzzy from listening to Hongjoong talk that you almost forgot to reply. 

"Uhm," you stalled, pressing your thighs together as you tried to remember what you did while Hongjoong was out. "I finished some work in the morning after you left and in the afternoon I watched a movie... Some supernatural thing, like a rip-off of The Ring."

"Just a typical day, huh?" Hongjoong hummed, stretching his fingers out to let his pinky rest beneath the waistband of your panties. When you mumbled out a soft 'uh-huh', Hongjoong exhaled quietly, amused by your sleepy voice. You felt butterflies fill your stomach at the sound of it. "Mine was the same, just finishing things up and brainstorming new- hey, baby, why're you squirming so much?"

"Nothing," you huffed softly, though you could feel your cheeks heating up when he called you out. Hongjoong grunted, a small sound that told you he didn't really believe your reply, and then sighed so that his breath fanned out over the back of your neck. "Just finish telling me about your day?"

"Okay, well... I've been picking up the guitar more often. Maybe tomorrow I'll show you the songs I've learned," he rambled on, not pausing to mention the way you were almost constantly shifting your thighs, seeking friction to accompany the warmth growing between your legs at the sound of Hongjoong's voice. "...I was going to get an energy drink but one of the staff members kept going on about how they aren't good for you so I ended up getting a coffee instead. But then later on I saw Wooyoungie with one and nobody was telling him to be careful so I don't know what that was about."

You made a non-committal sound in response, trying to pretend like you were listening when in reality Hongjoong's words were all getting muddled in your head, blurred around the edges and scratching an itch you hadn't noticed was there.

"Baby?" Hongjoong's voice called softly. 

"Hm?" you replied, pouting at his voice coming to a stop even if it was just to call you a petname. 

"Are you getting off on this?" he asked, and this time you could hear a smirk in his voice. You stuttered, trying to come up with a believable answer, but Hongjoong cut you off with a giggle. "It's okay. You're cute. Want me to finish telling you about my day?"

You paused, weighing up your embarrassment against your desire to deal with the sudden wave of arousal so you could get back to sleep. Eventually, the latter won out, and you relaxed in Hongjoong's hold again. 

"Yes please," you murmured, feeling like you were asking for a bedtime story. Hongjoong's lips pressed against your shoulder in a feverish kiss before he resumed his earlier ramblings.

This time, as he spoke, his hand slowly moved beneath your panties. When his fingers came into contact with the wetness on your lips his breath hitched momentarily, then his fingers began rubbing circles against your clit with just enough pressure to make your breathing uneven. 

"And then we had a meeting to try on some new stage outfits, they got us fitted and everything... The colours seemed sorta off to me but they said that under the stage lights and all of that it'd look fine," he mumbled, his voice slowly becoming rougher around the edges as your arousal became more evident. Your shaky breaths turned into hushed moans, skin tingling everywhere that Hongjoong touched and the pool of arousal in your stomach getting dangerously close to spilling over. 

You felt two of his fingers press into you, and as he bent them inside of you his palm rubbed against your clit, making you groan into your pillow. A soft nip to your shoulder made you gasp, Hongjoong's teeth digging into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. 

"You're so fucking cute. I come home and don't even say anything dirty to you and here you are, making a mess on my fingers," he mumbled against your skin, his fingers picking up their pace. "All I have to do is talk to you about my day and you're rubbing your thighs together trying to get off. You're so fucking precious."

The way the curse word rolled off of his tongue was enough to push you over the edge, clenching around his fingers as you came hard. Behind you Hongjoong trailed a line of kisses along your skin, lips curved into a smile the whole time. 

Once your breathing had slowed back down Hongjoong gave your waist a tight squeeze.

"Let me get you some water baby," he whispered, kissing your temple as he got up. "Then I'll let you get back to sleep." 

[pucksandpower]

Borrowed Time

Charles Leclerc x single mother!Reader

Summary: you do everything in your power to make your sick son’s dream come true but what you don’t realize is that meeting his hero will change all of your lives forever

Warnings: terminal illness and death

“You know what would be the coolest, Mama?” The soft voice of your son, Luca, breaks through the silence of the hospital room.

You brush a stray hair from his forehead, trying to coax a smile onto your face despite the weight in your chest. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

“To meet Charles Leclerc. Just once. To tell him he’s my hero.” Luca’s eyes, though tired, gleam with that familiar spark every time he talks about Formula 1.

Your heart aches, knowing how much this means to him. “He is pretty amazing on the track, isn’t he?” You respond, reminiscing about the countless races you’ve both watched together from this very room.

Luca nods, holding his toy race car, a replica of Charles’ Ferrari. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. He never gives up, even when things get tough. Kinda like me.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, making you marvel at his resilience.

You pull him close, tears threatening to spill. “You’re my hero too,” you whisper, kissing his temple.

He snuggles closer, murmuring, “I just wish I could meet him, Mama. Tell him he gives me strength.”

You take a deep breath, new resolve settling in. “You never know, my love. Miracles happen.”

The determination you feel is like a roaring fire and you silently vow to make Luca’s dream come true. No matter what it takes.

***

As the evening shadows stretch across the hospital room, you find yourself deep in thought, racking your brain for any means to make Luca’s wish a reality. You think about reaching out on social media, starting a campaign, anything to catch Charles Leclerc’s attention.

You start by posting on your personal pages: a heartfelt message accompanied by a picture of Luca holding his toy race car, the walls of his room adorned with posters of Charles racing. #LucaMeetsLeclerc, you caption it, hoping against hope that the message reaches the right eyes and ears.

The following days are a whirlwind. Friends, family, and even strangers share the post, and the hashtag starts trending in your community. Messages of support flood in and local news channels express interest in Luca’s battle.

One evening, after reading Luca a bedtime story, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s an email from a name you don’t recognize but the subject line sends your heart racing: A Special Meeting.

Opening it hastily, your eyes skim over the words:

Dear Y/N,

I represent Charles Leclerc. We were deeply moved by Luca’s story and would like to arrange a meeting ...

Tears blur your vision and you can’t help but let out a soft sob of relief and joy. Luca, hearing your cry, looks up at you with curious eyes. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

You pull him into a tight embrace, trying to convey all the love and happiness you feel. “Sweetie,” you whisper, pulling back to meet his gaze, “I think your dream might just come true.”

Luca’s eyes widen and his smile lights up the room brighter than any lamp ever could. The journey to fulfill a lifelong dream has just begun.

***

The hospital room feels heavier than usual. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the silence as Luca plays absent-mindedly with his race car on the bed. Just as you are about to suggest a card game, a knock interrupts the monotony.

“Come in,” you call softly.

The door opens and to your astonishment, Charles Leclerc himself steps inside, a shy smile gracing his features. He seemed different than on the TV — more human, more vulnerable.

“Ciao, Luca,” Charles greets, his voice gentle.

Luca’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “You ... you’re real.”

Charles chuckles, pulling a chair closer to the bed. “Last time I checked, I am. Your mom tells me you’re quite the fan.”

Luca nods vigorously. “You’re my hero. When you race, I feel like I’m flying. Free from this …” He gestures vaguely at the hospital equipment surrounding him.

Charles’ eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But, you know, you’re a hero too. Racing against challenges every day.”

You watch their interaction, touched by Charles’ genuine empathy. “Thank you for coming. It ... it means the world.”

Charles turns to you, a depth of understanding in his eyes. “When I read about Luca, I saw more than just a fan. I saw a fighter. Just like on the track, it’s the fights we don’t see that often matter most.”

There is a brief silence, filled with unsaid emotions.

Luca’s voice, trembling with emotion, breaks the quiet. “I have a question, Charles. How do you stay brave even when you’re scared?”

Charles takes a moment before responding. “I focus on the present. Fear often comes from thinking about what might happen. But in the moment, there’s a job to do, a race to finish.”

Luca looks thoughtful. “So, you mean I should focus on now and not think about ... later?”

Charles nods, placing a comforting hand on Luca’s. “Exactly. Live in the now and remember that every race has its challenges. It’s how we face them that defines us.”

Tears well up in your eyes, gratitude and admiration for Charles swelling within you. Here he was, not just a racing star but a beacon of strength for your son.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice choked with emotion.

Charles smiles, glancing between you and Luca. “No, thank you. Today, I met a true champion.”

***

“You know,” Charles begins, playing with the edges of the signed Ferrari cap he just gifted Luca, “I once met a kid, a bit older than you, at a race. He told me that every time he felt like giving up, he’d watch one of our races. Said it gave him hope."

Luca’s fingers trace the signature on the cap. “Is that why you race? For people like him ... and me?”

Charles leans back, gazing out the window for a moment. “Partly. But also for myself. Racing ... it’s my passion, my escape. It’s where I find my strength.”

You feel compelled to share your own perspective. “We all have our races, don’t we? For Luca, it’s here, fighting every day. For me, it's trying to be strong for him, even when I feel like falling apart.”

Charles looks at you intently. “It’s incredible the strength we find when it’s for someone we love. Your journey, your race, is just as important — is more important — than any I’ve been on.”

Touched by his words, you continue, “I watch you race. The precision, the dedication. It’s art. I want Luca to have something like that, something to pour his heart into.”

Luca chimes in, his voice soft, “I think I already have something. Watching races with Mama, it’s our thing. It helps me forget, even if just for a while.”

Charles leans forward, engaging Luca directly. “Then let’s make a promise. You keep fighting your race here and I'll keep racing out there. Deal?”

Luca’s smile is radiant. “Deal.”

There is a pause, a moment of reflection, before Charles turns to you. “You're an incredible mother. The strength you show, the love ... it’s palpable. And it reminds me so much of my own maman.”

You blink away tears. “We do what we have to for our children.”

He nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “She would always say the same thing after losing my father. And sometimes, despite all the pain and struggle, we find connections, kindred spirits, who remind us we’re not alone.”

You smile, feeling a deep bond forming, not just between Luca and Charles but between two souls who understood the depth of love, sacrifice, and hope.

***

“I have a proposition,” Charles offers, the twinkle in his eyes belying the gravity of his words.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”

“How would you both feel about attending a race in-person? I can make sure Luca is comfortable and you both get the full VIP experience.”

Luca’s face lights up with hope and disbelief. “Really? I ... I’d get to see you race in real life?”

Charles nods, “Right from the best seat in the paddock.”

You hesitate, considering the logistics, the health implications. “I don’t know. It’s a beyond generous offer but Luca’s health …”

Charles raise a hand, preempting your concerns. “I’ve thought about that. We have top medical facilities at the track and I’ll make sure we have everything necessary for Luca.”

“You’d do that for us?” you whisper, the weight of his offer sinking in.

Charles leans forward, sincerity evident in his gaze. “I’ve won races, stood on podiums. But the race Luca is running, the courage he’s showing ... it’s unmatched. I want him to see a race, not just as a spectator but as a fellow racer.”

Luca looks up, eyes brimming with tears. “You make it sound like I’m a hero. But I’m just trying to get by, just trying to ... to live.”

“And that’s what makes you a hero,” Charles replies gently. “Facing adversity and pushing through, not because of fame or accolades but because of love, hope, and sheer will.”

You feel a lump in your throat, deeply moved by Charles’ words. “It’s not just race wins or trophies that make you a champion, Charles. It’s moments like this. Thank you. This means more than words can say.”

He smiles, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, life is the most important race. And in that race, I’ve found two champions right here.”

***

In Monza, as you settle into the VIP area with Luca by your side, the excitement in the air is overwhelming in the best way possible. The roar of the engines, the sea of red flags, the bustling energy of the crowd — it is a sensory overload that fills Luca’s eyes with wonder.

“Monza is special, you know,” Charles whispers, kneeling next to Luca’s wheelchair, overlooking the historic Italian track. He slips off a red Ferrari bracelet from his wrist, its well-worn leather showing its age. “This was given to me when I first joined Ferrari. I like to think that it’s brought me luck ever since.”

Luca’s eyes widen, tracing the intricacies of the bracelet. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Charles smiles, “Today, I want you to hold onto my luck. Keep it safe for me, will you?”

Nodding fervently, Luca reverently holds the bracelet. “I promise.”

When Charles leaves to prepare for the race, Luca clutches the Ferrari bracelet to his heart. “Mama, did you see? He gave this to me. His lucky bracelet!”

You smile, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Yes, sweetheart. He wants you to keep it safe. It’s a piece of his heart.”

As the race progresses, you both watch in awe as Charles’ navigates the twists and turns of the circuit. Your heart races with every lap, both as a fan and as someone who had come to know the man behind the helmet.

And then, the moment you’d never forget — a triumphant finish, Charles Leclerc taking the checkered flag. The Tifosi erupts into cheers, and during the celebration, you almost swear that Charles’ eyes find yours among the crowd.

Over the radio, his voice crackles through the airwaves, reaching not just the pits but into your very soul. “This one’s for Luca. Keep fighting, champ.”

Luca’s eyes widen, his hand clutching the bracelet even tighter. “Did you hear, Mama? He said it for me!”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Yes, sweetheart. He said it for you.”

The post-race interview is a blur of emotions. Charles, sweaty and exhilarated, is asked about the race, about his victory. But then he pauses, his gaze distant yet focused, his voice trembling with emotion.

“This win ... it’s for someone very special. A young friend of mine named Luca. He’s fighting a battle much tougher than any race and his spirit, his courage — it’s what carried me through today. Luca, this is all for you.”

***

The roar of the crowd has faded but the emotional high from the race lingers. You, Luca, and Charles head back to the hotel provided by Ferrari with laughter and memories of the day filling the conversation.

However, as the night passes by, a chilling silence envelopes the room. Luca’s breathing becomes shallow, his skin clammy. Panic bubbles up within you. The medical equipment that was always close by in the hospital is absent here.

You rush to his side, your hands trembling as you try to comfort him. “Luca, honey, stay with me. Breathe.”

Charles, witnessing the scene, feels a deep pang of fear and helplessness. “I’ll call for help,” he says, fumbling for his phone.

As you count the seconds for first responders to arrive, Luca’s weak hand reaches out, clutching Charles’ wrist. His voice, barely a whisper, shares a desperate plea. “Charles, if ... if I don’t make it, promise me you’ll look after Mama. She’s strong but she'll need someone.”

Charles, tears blurring his vision, nods, squeezing Luca’s hand reassuringly. “I promise. But you’re a fighter. You have to keep racing, okay?”

Luca manages a faint smile. “Always racing, Charles. Always.”

Emergency services arrive soon, the room transforms into a flurry of medical professionals and machines. Charles wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as you both watched, praying for a miracle.

Hours feel like lifetimes. When the medical team finally manages to stabilize Luca, the emotional toll is evident in every face in the room.

You approach Luca’s bedside, gently stroking his forehead. “You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart.”

Luca, though exhausted, manages a faint smirk. “Had to keep the race interesting, right?”

Charles, his voice choked with emotion, adds, “Every race has its challenges, remember? You faced this one head-on, just like a true champion.”

Luca’s eyes meet Charles’ own, a depth of understanding passing between them. “Remember your promise,” he whispers.

Charles nods, his gaze drifting to you. “Always.”

***

“You know, I’ve seen some tough races,” Charles begins, his gaze distant, “but nothing compares to what I witnessed last night. The strength, the love, the sheer determination.”

You sigh, exhaustion stamped across your face. “Every day is a race. Some days, the finish line feels close, other days it feels miles away.”

Charles takes a deep breath, his voice wavering slightly, “I ... I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through but I want to be there, for both of you. Luca asked me to look after you and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

You look up, surprised by the depth of his commitment. “You’ve done so much already. You’ve given Luca memories he will cherish forever.”

He moves closer, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not just about Luca. It’s about you too. Through this entire ordeal, the strength you’ve shown, the love … it’s made me see life in a different light.”

A silence envelopes the room, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring Luca.

“I’ve raced all over the world,” Charles whispers, “but I’ve never met someone who’s touched my heart the way you both have. I want to be there for you, for whatever you need.”

You blink back tears, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “It’s been so long since someone offered to share the load. I’m not sure I know how to let someone in anymore.”

Charles gently takes your hand. “One step at a time. Just like in a race. We face each challenge as it comes, together.”

A tear escapes, trailing down your cheek. “Thank you, Charles.”

He brushes the tear away, his touch lingering. “No, thank you. For letting me be a part of your world and for showing me what real strength looks like.”

***

“Look at that,” Luca murmurs, pointing towards the sunset painting the sky with hues of pink and orange. The three of you sit atop a hill overlooking the city, a picnic blanket spread beneath you.

Charles takes a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs. “You know, moments like this make me appreciate life even more. The simple joys, the beauty all around.”

You nod, taking in the serene view. “It’s easy to get caught up in the chaos and forget these moments exist.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with a mix of mischief and wisdom beyond his years. “You two sound like philosophers. All I know is that this sandwich tastes amazing.”

You chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Always living in the moment, aren’t you?”

He grins. “That's the secret, Mama. We have to savor every bite, every sunset, every laugh.”

Charles, deeply moved, joins in. “You're right, Luca. In the races, I’ve learned that every second counts. It’s the same with life.”

Luca nods earnestly. “Exactly! You can’t rewind time. You can only enjoy it.”

The evening wears on with laughter, stories, and shared dreams. The three of you revel in the simplicity of the moment frozen in time.

As stars begin to sprinkle the night sky, Luca turns to Charles, a serious expression on his face. “Promise me something?”

Charles leans in, listening intently. “Anything.”

“Make more moments like this with Mama, even after ...” Luca's voice trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Charles squeezes Luca’s hand, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise, champ. Moments full of love, laughter, and sunsets.”

Luca’s watery laugh has tears pooling in your eyes. “You know, when you look at the sunset, remember me. Remember this moment.”

You turn to him, tears now overflowing. “Luca …”

He smiles, a mixture of melancholy and contentment in his gaze. “I may not be here forever but I'll always be a part of these sunsets. A part of you.”

Charles, his voice a gentle whisper, adds, “And a part of me.”

***

“Mama?” Luca’s voice, frail and delicate like the gossamer wing of a butterfly, quivers with fear.

You lean in closer, grasping his hand between both of yours, heart heavy. “Yes, my love?”

He swallows hard, searching your eyes with his own clouded ones. “I’m scared, Mama. I don’t want to go.”

Tears blur your vision but you muster a brave smile for him. “I know, sweetheart. But remember our sunsets? Sometimes, the sun has to set to make way for a new dawn.”

Luca’s fingers weakly grip yours. “But what if it’s dark, Mama? What if it hurts? What if I’m all alone?”

Charles, unable to remain a silent spectator, interjects, his voice cracking with emotion. “You won’t be. It will be just like falling asleep. You’ll have the sunsets, the memories, and all the love we’ve shared. That light will never fade. We will always be here. I promise.”

Luca’s eyes shimmer with tears but also a glimmer of hope. “Will you sing for me, Mama? The song from when I was small?”

Your heart breaks, remembering the countless nights you’d sung him to sleep. Taking a deep breath, you begin, your voice soft and lulling:

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray ...”

Luca’s breathing slows, his grip on your hand loosening.

“You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you,

Please don’t take

My sunshine away.”

As the final note leaves your lips, Luca’s chest rises gently one last time, then stills. The room is silent, save for your heart-wrenching sobs.

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you as you crumple into him, your world shattering. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, tears streaming down both your faces.

***

The somber quiet of the funeral is punctuated by the soft cries of mourners. The backdrop of gentle flowers contrast starkly with the weight of the grief in the air.

Charles stands next to you, holding a polished helmet, the vibrant colors of his Monza race-winning headgear gleaming under the sun. He turns to face you, eyes red-rimmed.

“This,” he starts, voice choked, “is my helmet from Monza. The race we won together. He was my co-driver that day, in spirit.”

You take a shaky breath, reaching out to touch the helmet, feeling its cool surface, the memories of that day flooding back. “He would’ve been so proud to have this.”

Charles nods, tears streaming down his face. “And this,” he says, taking the Ferrari bracelet off his wrist, “he held onto it for me once. I ... I want him to have it. To keep it safe.”

You clutch the bracelet, feeling its familiar weight, the leather still warm from Charles’ wrist. “It meant the world to him. And to me. Thank you.”

The two of you stand side by side, staring at the small casket adorned with flowers and memories. The embodiment of a life cut short but filled with love and unforgettable moments.

Together, you place the helmet and bracelet inside, a final tribute to a young racer whose journey had inspired so many.

“He’s free now,” Charles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Racing in the skies, no pain, no limits.”

You nod, tears flowing freely. “Our little champion, forever.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, both of you finding solace in each other’s warmth. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the memories of a brave soul, forever remembered, forever missed.

***

The familiar crest of the hill looms ahead, the very spot where laughter and dreams once danced in the wind. You and Charles reach the top, the vast expanse of the horizon stretching out before you. The setting sun casts a golden hue, much like that unforgettable evening a year ago.

Charles lays down a blanket, reminiscent of that day, and the two of you sit, lost in memories. The silence isn’t empty — it’s filled with remembrance of a young boy’s laughter, his dreams, his courage. The hole he left behind in your hearts.

“Do you ever feel,” Charles hesitantly cuts through the quiet, “that Luca is still here with us, watching these sunsets?”

A tear slips down your cheek. “All the time. Every time I close my eyes under the setting sun or look up at the sky, I feel his presence.”

Charles takes a deep breath, struggling with his emotions. “I’ve been thinking about a way to honor Luca. To keep his spirit alive.”

You turn to him, eyes questioning.

“A foundation,” Charles begins, “In Luca’s name. To help children with terminal illnesses and their families. To give them hope, love, memories.”

You feel a rush of emotion, a tidal wave of love and loss. “He would have loved that. To know he’s making a difference even now.”

Charles nods, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘It’s not just about the financial help. It’s about the moments, the memories. The sunsets and the picnics. The dreams and the hopes.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, drawing strength from the bond you’ve forged. “We’ll do it together. For Luca.”

The sun slowly dips below the horizon. As the first star appears, a sense of peace envelops the two of you. In the heart of sorrow, a new purpose is born, ensuring that Luca’s light continues to shine, guiding countless souls out of the darkness.

***

The sun sets in a blaze of colors, casting a warm glow over the hill that has become a symbolic memorial. Charles and you sit side-by-side, hand-in-hand, watching the bittersweet horizon.

A small voice breaks through the silence. “Mama, Papa, why do we come here?”

You turn to your daughter, a smile tugging at your lips. Lucia, with her curious eyes and radiant smile, is a constant reminder of love and life renewed.

“We come here to remember someone very special,” Charles explains gently, his eyes, so similar to your daughter’s, filled with tenderness.

Lucia looks at you both, a hint of understanding in her innocent gaze. “Luca?”

You nod, voice soft. “Yes, sweetheart. Your big brother. We come here to celebrate him, to tell stories about him, and to show him how much we love him.”

Lucia frowns slightly. “But I never got to meet him.”

You stroke her hair, your heart aching and swelling simultaneously. “He’s always with us, in our hearts. Just like you are.”

Charles leans down, wiping away a tear that escapes your eye. “And you’re named Lucia after him, to carry his memory forward.”

Lucia’s eyes light up, smile shining bright. “I’m like a part of him?”

“Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “A part of him lives on in you. In all of us.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the world in twilight, you hold each other tightly, a family united by love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a young boy whose legacy lives on in every sunset, every star, and every beat of your hearts.

[feeblescholarmyass]

I'll Tell You a Story Until You Fall Asleep

in which you ask them to read you a bedtime story.

word count: 2.2 k

pairings: caretaker!(Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Cyno, Wanderer, Alhaitham) x child! Reader (separate)

tags: sick reader (Kaeya, Wanderer), comfort, caretaker/child dynamic, fluff, mentions of younger siblings (Cyno), Wanderer has trauma, Wanderer doesn't understand how people work, Alhaitham is bad with kids, gender neutral reader (you/your pronouns), second person pov

warnings: none

a/n: sorry for how short wanderer's is, I lost motivation really bad and gave up. also ignore the fact that this was completely unprompted, it's an old wip I finally got inspiration to finish

dividers by cafekitsune

KAEYA was notoriously unreliable when it came to things he didn't take interest in. Luckily for your primary caretaker, he took plenty of interest in you. When you had come down with a fever, they knew that they would need help convincing you to rest. No matter how big you were getting, you hadn't lost your large youthful reserves of energy. Only Barbatos himself could get you to settle down without a fuss.

Though he was no god, Kaeya was the only one who managed to come close. For some odd reason, he was the one you chose to admire. Hearing his voice could either rile you up or calm you down. His cold hands on your shoulder, either encouraging you or warning you, were the only communication you needed to make a decision.

So when he heard you were sick and asking for him, he happily dropped whatever he was doing to come visit. "Hey, kid. I heard you have a fever. How're you feeling?" He rapped his knuckles against the door to announce his presence.

You lifted your head from under your layers of blankets trapping you against your bed. "Kaeya..?" You sniffled, blinking tired eyes at him. "I thought you were busy with work."

You sounded so pitifully sick that it made his heart ache. "What? Me? Working? What put that in your head?" He scoffed, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder and smiling at you. "Don't tell the Acting Grandmaster I said that."

You giggled weakly, curling up under your comforter. He took the few steps necessary to reach your bedside and pulled up a chair. You reached over and grabbed his hand. It took both of your hands to grasp his. Your hands were still chubby and uncalloused. You pressed his palm to your forehead. He winced, noting how heat radiated from your skin.

"Kaeya..?"

"Yes? Do you need something from me, kid?"

"Can you tell me a story? I wanna listen to you talk." You nuzzled his hand. He looked at you with an amused grin pulling at his lips.

"Sure, kid. Let me think. Once upon a time…"

XIAO jolted up from where he was sitting when he heard you calling. He appeared in your room at Wangshu Inn, worried something bad had happened.

He caught sight of you, curled up on the couch, snuggled deep into a blanket with a sheepish look on your face. "Sorry. Were you busy?"

"No, I was not. What do you need?" He crossed his arms, setting down his weapon.

"I, um, well- I wanted to hear a story. I couldn't sleep, and I tried everything else already." You looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment.

He took a moment to regain his composure before moving closer. "I am not skilled at telling stories. Coming up with compelling fiction has never been a part of my required skill set. I apologize for disappointing you."

"You don't have to make up anything. You can just tell me a memory about the other Yakshas when they were alive. That would make a very good story. I'll braid your hair while you talk." You scooted over so he had room to sit next to you.

He couldn't help it, a small smile pulled at his lips as he sat next to you. The feeling of your small nimble fingers weaving locks of hair into a braid was always relaxing, and it would be nice to reminisce about the past. To have someone else remember the truth of those long gone was always a weight off his shoulders.

"Okay. What should I tell you first…"

ZHONGLI didn't get why so many children hung around funeral parlors these days. Childcare was not in his job description, but he couldn't deny a citizen of Liyue any aid he could give in his mortal form.

You weren't troublesome, and often helped around the parlor. Hu Tao sent you on some of the more paranormal excursions on behalf of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hearing a child warn others about ghosts was much less troublesome than herself or a strange adult. Your "stories" were hardly ever taken seriously.

Due to your regular trips to the parlor, you often visited with the man and talked over tea. Even though you were young, he enjoyed trading stories back and forth. Yours were normally more fantastical, aided by the imagination that comes natural to most children, while his were near-truths that he lightly sanitized for the sake of your innocence.

Normally, you would leave the parlor long before dusk, returning to your home for whatever your nightly routine was. However, today was different. The sun had already set, and you seemed intent on sticking around.

"Mr Zhongli, when do you go home to sleep? I bet you go to bed early, like Grandpa does. Where do you live, Mr Zhongli? Maybe I could visit you during your off days."

He sighed, placing a hand on your head and ruffling your hair. "You know, young one, it doesn't do your body any good to run from sleep. You should return home."

You looked up sheepishly at him, kicking your feet back and forth while avoiding his unspoken question. "I'm not running from anything, Sir."

"Tell me your troubles, child. How can I help you?"

You pursed your lips for a few seconds, clearly struggling with your words. "I don't wanna go home tonight. I was supposed to stay with my auntie, but her house smells weird and she doesn't cook good food. So I told her that I could stay at a friend's house…"

"I'm assuming you meant Hu Tao's." Zhongli sighed. The Director had left for home an hour ago, and you didn't know the way there. "I shall take you, don't worry."

"Um- actually, I wanted to stay with you. Miss Director said you tell the best bedtime stories. I wanna hear one."

He looked down at you, eyes widened in surprise. "I'm not sure that is-"

"Oh, pleeeaaassseee, Mr Zhongli! I promise I won't stay up too late or wake you up early! You could even tell me the story at the Director's place! I just really want you to tell me a story!"

Zhongli knew he wouldn't win this battle without any underhanded tactics, such as alerting your aunt of your whereabouts. It couldn't hurt to tell you just one story, right?

"Alright, let us go to the Director. I will tell you one story, but only one."

"Yay! You're the best, Mr Zhongli!"

CYNO wouldn't tell anyone, but he always looked forward to staying in Aaru Village before returning home from a mission. He planned his schedule just so that he would arrive before dinner and had enough time the next day to stay for breakfast with your family. You were the oldest of your siblings, and the only one who wouldn't groan at his god awful jokes. Instead, you would one-up him, and provide him with new material to try on Tighnari during his next TCG session.

He had been taking a stroll around the village before dinner when he heard familiar giggling somewhere behind him. He continued walking, pretending not to have noticed. It wasn't long before he felt you wrap your arms around his back and say, "Cyno!!"

"I wondered when you were finally going to show yourself." He turned and picked you up, examining you. Since his last visit, you had grown taller by approximately 3/4ths of an inch, lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks, and cut your hair. He had been gone for too long.

"Hehe, sorry. Candace was looking for you and said I had the best chance of finding you. Dinner is going to be ready soon."

"Well then we'd better hurry, otherwise we might miss Candace's cooking." He had tried to find a joke, but he was too distracted to think of a half decent one. He was finally back, and his favorite kid was already telling him all that he had missed.

He didn't miss an opportunity to make a joke all throughout dinner. He made a total of six jokes, two of which earned him glares from Candace, and five puns, one actually getting a laugh out of you. You had only made one joke, yet it received much more laughter from the other kids, as well as Candace's approval. He was losing.

After dinner, the two of you had retreated into your bedroom to compare TCG cards and tactics. You even engaged him in one game before being overwhelmed by tiredness.

"Hey, Cyno," you yawned, "can you tell me a story? I don't wanna go to bed just yet."

"What kind of story?" He asked, carefully putting away the cards.

"I dunno, maybe one from the forest. It's been a long time since I've heard one of those."

"Bored with the desert already? Don't tell me you're deserting me to move to the forest."

You stared at him blankly.

"Get it? Because desert, which means to abandon someone or something in a way considered disloyal, is spelled just like desert, which is the type of environment we are in? No?"

"Just tell me a bedtime story already."

"Fine, fine. but you never answered my question. Besides, I thought that one was funny."

WANDERER was panicking. You were sick, and he didn't know how to help. You couldn't do anything you usually could do, and he, as a puppet, had never been sick. The only real previous experience he had with sickness was the one that led to his old friend's death. Seeing you here, so small and helpless just like he had been, brought back horrible memories.

"Abhi, don't cry." You reached up and brushed some of his hair out of his face. "It's just a fever. I get 'em every year. Don't you get sick?"

" 'm not crying. And no, I never get sick. You're just a weak human child, who is more susceptible to such things than average." He tried to ignore the glare you gave him. "How do you get rid of it?"

"Well, rest is the best way. But I'm having trouble going to sleep. D'ya think you could tell me a bedtime story, Abhi?"

He seemed nervous, but decided he'd rather stay by your side anyways. Just in case. "Fine. What kind of story do you want?"

It had been a lie, originally. A simple white lie to get out of some gathering. The shock factor of his 'confession' gave him time to escape before any of them could protest. Truthfully, ALHAITHAM didn't have a child himself, nor would anyone in their right mind entrust him to take care of one.

But when Nilou volunteered to send you to join his lie, he couldn't turn you down. It was something about that look in your eye. And maybe the book in your hands. Most children in Sumeru didn't bother reading, not even with the Akasha gone. You were doing it for fun.

He decided he'd take you, at least to give him a solid excuse. Who knows, maybe he could do this more often if you didn't cause him any trouble.

"Mr Scribe, your bookshelf is very unorganized."

Okay, maybe this was a little more effort than he had expected. You couldn't blame him, he'd obviously never spent much time around children.

"Oh? Well, it doesn't bother me." He crossed his arms, sitting down on the couch.

You sat across from him, your big eyes taking in your surroundings. He noted your eyes lingering on the decor he'd bought to annoy Kaveh. Your wrinkled nose worried him. If you shared too much in common with the architect, he was in for a long night.

He made dinner, deciding that he could avoid you productively that way. You seemed to busy yourself by going through his books. You ate silently during dinner, and seemed to tire of sorting just after dusk.

Finally, you spoke up. "Mr Scribe?"

"My name is Alhaitham." He said firmly, turning the page of the book he was reading.

"Alright, Alhaitham. Your books are boring. Do you know any stories?"

He looked up from the book, his eyes catching on you. You had a book in your lap. It wasn't one he'd consider difficult, but it wasn't something he'd imagine a child would have the patience to read. "A… story?"

"You know, like a fairytale or a myth. A fable. A fiction. Or do you only read textbooks?"

He couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips. "You've got quite the vocabulary there, don't you?" He closed the book, sitting up. "I suppose I might know one or two."

"I'd like you to tell me a story, please." You said, putting away the book you'd given up on.

"Alright, I suppose I could spare a few minutes. How about this, I'll tell you some stories from the desert. Have you ever heard about King Deshret?"

You scrambled onto the couch beside him and listened attentively as he told you one of the myths from before Deshret's death. He told stories of old gods and their followers. It may not have been a classical fairytale, but it was a story nonetheless. It wasn't long before you'd fallen asleep with your head resting against the cushions.

"You'll wake up sore if you sleep like that," he chided to your unconscious ears. He sighed and scooped you up, placing him on his lap instead.

You weren't a bad kid. Maybe he'd watch you again if he ever needed an excuse to leave work early or avoid being dragged to a party.

comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

[daily-crowley]

TELL ME ABT YOUR OTHER HYPERFIXATIONS!! Mine are currently Loki, ofmd, good omens, and Hozier :D

THANK YOU FOR ASKING, THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG!

There’s a few hyperfixations of mine I’m always talking about but right now there’s 3 main ones.

1. The Boys

2. Invincible

3. Peacemaker

The Boys is the main one; I loved it since it came out back in 2019. I moved on sometime after S3 ended and I found another hyperfixation but now new content is coming out with S4 so I’m back on my The Boys bullshit. I’m a Butchlander shipper, BILLY BUTCHER AND HOMELANDER CONSUME MY THOUGHTS. I AM BEYOND OBSESSED WITH THOSE TWO! I need them to kiss…. And-and more. Anthony Starr and Karl Urban are my current celebrity crushes that I’m only able to think about. If you follow me in insta it’s just been The Boys 24/7 that I’ve talked about since new content started dropping thanks to S4. HOMELANDER IS MY BABYGIRL I WILL DEFEND HIM I DON’T CARE FOR HIS CRIMES I DON’T CARE IF I’M SUPPOSE TO HATE HIM, I LOVE HIM. BILLY BUTCHER MY GOTH BOYFRIEND I WILL DIE IF YOU DIE. HE CANT DIE, HE JUST CAN’T. S4 teaser was insane, so much was going on, Black Noir is back?! And Jeffrey Dean Morgan is joining the cast! AND TEAMING UP WITH BUTCHER?! They said that trailer was just a scratch on the surface of what happens, wasn’t even a trailer just a teaser but it had so much going on WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’T JUST A SMALL TASTE OF S4?! I’m scared but excited. I’m nervous but excited (Billy if you fucking die on me- that’s what I’m most worried about)

Invincible is my other current hyperfixation, S1 was so good and I can’t wait for S2 to continue. They should’ve dropped all the episodes at once that way I don’t have to wait but whatever. Vigilante is my little meow meow from Peacemaker. I love Adrian so much, hate that I gotta wait till like 2025-2026 for S2 possibly.

My other interests that I talk about all the time (not currently much though thanks to The Boys) are:

• NATM/JedTavius

• Venom/SymBrock

• SamBucky/Marvel in general

• FNAF

• Who Framed Roger Rabbit

• Maleficent

• The Simpsons

Night at The Museum came out when I was 7, I’m 24 now, I haven’t moved on. It was my first hyperfixation and ship before I even knew what that all meant. I’ve written like 30 JedTavius fics. I’m a Venom fan first and a Spider-Man hater second. I will defend Venom at all times and Eddie and him are definitely in love. When the FNAF film came out it brought me back to my FNAF phase, Foxy’s my favourite with Bonnie being second. I watched the film about 20 times. Then in November I started a personal rewatch challenge on Insta where I watched it all month long. Meaning I’ve probably watched it at least 50 times and I still haven’t gotten sick of it (also I love the Josh Hutcherson whistle meme. I don’t care how much people hate it I think it’s funny.) I’m a huge Marvel fan, I literally grew up with the comics, I’m not kidding those were read to me as my bedtime stories. My favourite characters are Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes as a result I ship them. I never shipped Stucky, that never made sense to me whilst Sam and Bucky have so much chemistry. Sam Wilson is everything to me, I adore SamCap he’s MY Captain America (still love Steve though!) Roger Rabbit is my favourite fictional character of all time, my biggest comfort character. Growing up I really tried to base my personality off of him, the world might be obsessed with Jessica Rabbit but I’m obsessed with Roger. People need to draw, edit, and cosplay him as much as they do Jessica. I’ve been a huge Simpsons fan since I was like 10 and my mother dropped me off at my aunts house and she left leaving me alone with my cousin who was watching The Simpsons and it took off from there. Nelson Muntz is my funky little son and they need to make Nelisa canon. Maleficent is my favourite Disney character (actually like quite a bit of Disney, second favourite character being Donald Duck) I based a lot of my style around her, and I have a lot of Maleficent collectibles. I absolutely love the Angelina Jolie’s Maleficent films (totally ship her with Diaval).

There’s a few other things that I really, really love. I’m also a huge horror fan my favourite being Chucky/Child’s Play as well as Killer Klowns from Outer Space, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (not 3D), Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, etc. Sanrio, Kuromi is my favourite second is Pochacco, I really love animated films and cartoons. IT, Monster High, and more. I’m also a collector of all these things.

So there you have it. Those are all my hyperfixation and fandom’s that I’m in. Right now especially those first 3 that I talked about (seriously can you tell I really like The Boys? Lol)

[heythere-mel]

Sweet Like Sugar

Jack Daniels x f!reader

W/C: 1K+

A/N: This is my first go at writing for Whiskey so you can blame the bit of Kingsman I caught before bed last night, partial insomnia, and my period hormones for this one. Enjoy what you can bbys 🤍

——-

Jack pulled onto the dirt path just before the snow started falling. It was a mere light dusting of the powder that was set to hit the town that final week of his latest mission but despite his reassurances, he knew you’d worry yourself sick if he hadn’t made it back before it hit.

Cutting the engine to the bronco, he couldn’t help but race up the steps of your modest ranch house. A soft glow from the kitchen peeking through the window was a welcome beacon calling him home. To you. To the both of you.

——-

Everything in the house was quiet. The scent of your famous sugar cookies filled the air as he passed through the living room. I hope she left the bowl and spoon for me to taste, he hummed to himself.

“Sugar! I’m home!”

No answer.

Hmmm, the rocking chair perhaps? He made his way to his new favorite room in the house. The nursery. Jack had an old friend whip up the one thing you begged him for when setting up the room.

“I need somewhere to sit when I tell him all the bedtime stories!” “Whatever your little heart desires, you got it sweetheart!”

He slowly opened the door to the newly furnished space. Memories began flooding in of the day you two painted it and how messy everything got. He’d never heard you laugh so hard at the sky blue blotches that littered his face, or when he stepped on a roller which led to paint all over his boots paired with endless Papa Smurf jokes. He’d let you paint every pair if he got that reaction and smile every time.

“Not here either. Where is this crazy woman?”

His last stop was your bedroom, and the sight he came upon stopped him in his tracks. You were curled up on the bed, the latest baby book you’d gotten into was lazily clutched in your hands and your reading glasses hung from the tip of your nose. He shuffled closer to take you in, a muffled wow leaving his lips. I am one lucky bastard. He gently removed your book and glasses, the dip of his weight on the bed stirred you slightly as you slowly opened your eyes to his loving smile.

“Hey cowboy, you made it home.”

“I told you I would. How are you feeling mama?”

“A little cold. I wanted to start the fireplace up but knew you’d give me an earful if I did. That’s why I made cookies. Oven warmed the house just enough. Even left you the bowl to lick. Other than that, just tired. Your son decided to settle down for a bit though, which meant nap time for me too.”

Jack chuckled, “You’re damn right you would’ve gotten a full lecture little lady! Don’t need to be lifting much or inhaling those fumes.” This made you playfully roll your eyes, knowing he was just wanting to do right by you and the baby. “Y’all got room for one more under there? Let your husband warm you right up!”

You unwrap yourself from the comforter to make room for him and Jack couldn’t help but stop and stare.

“What?” feeling a little more self conscious these days with your growing form.

“I hope you know just how damn beautiful you are. Pregnancy looks good on you. Real good!” He states that last part with a waggle of his eyebrow.

“You cowboys and your sweet talk. Just get into bed and come warm your wife up!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Jack kicks his boots off and places his Stetson on the nightstand as he crawls into your warm embrace. Instant peace settles in, as he brings you to his chest and into the softest kiss imaginable. He caresses the swell of your stomach and can’t help the grin across his face as he feels the flutters from under your thin sweater.

“Hey buddy, I’m home. Sorry to wake you.”

——-

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you just let him talk. Content with the warmth and being nestled safely into his side. He discussed what he could about the trip, relaying the love sent from the others at Statesman. You gave an extensive list of your “nesting concerns” of any and everything in the house, Jack already making a mental honey-do list, back to the topic of possible names for the baby. You could feel the excitement and love coming off him in waves. Felt it in the stolen kisses against your lips, on the pulse point of your neck, through his fingertips as he circled the skin of your hip, trying to bring you even closer. Perhaps this is how you got to stay a little longer this time.

——-

Jack didn’t realize he fell asleep until he felt your palm against his cheek. The heaviness of his eyelids prevented him from truly taking in your expression.

“I’m sorry Sugar, I must’ve dozed off.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him with the saddest smile.

“Sugar, is everything alright?”

“I reckon I must be going Jack. You’ve gotta get up soon.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Your alarm goes off in a few minutes.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You never do...”

Taking his hand, you kissed his palm then brought it to your face, letting it trace its way down to your bump as you continued your goodbye.

“Thank you for loving me. And continuing to love me. Us.” Giving him one last kiss that he all but melts into it.

“You can wake up now.”

——-

The old fashioned alarm clock blares at him and Jack’s eyes snap open, un shed tears on the brim of letting go. His breathing is quickened as he feels the empty space next to him. It was 8am and with a quick glance out the bedroom window he sees the snow beginning to fall. Turning back to the mantle he’s met with your smiling face, a picture from your wedding framed right next to your last ultrasound photo.

He sighs to himself. Just another dream, Jack.

It was better than nothing he supposed.

“Thank you for the visit sugar. Let me get started on that fire for you.”

[11x13kyle]

Guitar Network

kyle: stan?

kyle: stan.

thad: he’s wired in.

kyle: i’m sorry?

thad: he’s wired in.

kyle: is he?

thad: yes.

kyle picks up stan’s guitar over his head and smashes it down on the floor, breaking it into pieces.

kyle: how about now, are you still wired in?

thad: (to craig) call security.

everyone in the living room is frozen, silent and watching.

kyle: you broke 500,000.

stan: you were told that if new opportunities came along-

kyle: how much was your role in the band diluted? how much was his?!

stan: you signed the papers.

kyle: you set me up.

stan: you’re gonna blame me because you were in the band and then made bad decisions for the band?!

kyle it’s gonna be like I’m not part of breaking a million.

thad: it won’t be like you’re not part of breaking a million, you’re not part of breaking a million.

kyle: we bought the game together. my name is on the account.

thad: you might wanna check again.

kyle: this is because i was sick this week?

thad: you think we were gonna let you parade around in your ridiculous outfits pretending you were running this band?

kyle: SORRY, MY PRADA’S AT THE CLEANERS! along with my hoodie and my fuck-you flip-flops, you pretentious DOUCHEBAG!

thad: security’s here. you’ll be leaving now.

kyle: i’m not letting you buy me out.

thad: we’ll get the signature.

kyle (turning to stan): tell me this isn’t about me not playing after bedtime!

(pause)

kyle: you did it. i always knew you did it. you planted the story about the chicken.

thad: what is he talking about?

kyle: you had me accused-

thad: seriously, what the hell’s the chicken?

kyle: and i’ll bet what you hated the most is that they identified me as a co-founder of the band-which i am! you better lawyer-up, asshole, ‘cause i’m not coming back for my half of the game. i’m coming back for ALL OF IT!

thad (to security): get him outta here.

kyle: i’m going.

thad: hang on.

thad hands kyle a folded check.

thad: i almost forgot, there’s your $19,000. i wouldn’t cash it, though, I drew it on the account you froze.

kyle looks at thad...then suddenly and quickly cocks his fist back to punch him in the face. thad flinches as kyle holds his punch and lets out a small laugh.

kyle: i like standing next to you, thad. it makes me look so tough.

[soclonely]

prompt 56, with snuffly 99 being taken care of by his brothers? not picky about who, though a squad of little cadets would be cute, or maybe alpha-17 ,, your writing is always so lovely ❤️

ALPHA-17! ALPHA 17! I love him so much

Prompt 56: Colds Pairing/group: 99 and Alpha 17

Alpha-17 crosses his arms, his large figure looming over the small old man in front of him. "I am only going to tell you one more time." he growls, glaring down at 99. "If you so much as step a toe out of that door and leave your room, I am going to tie you down to that bed and you won't leave it until the next batch of tube babies leave Kamino. Do you understand me?"

"I'm not sick! I'm just a bit ah-ah-ACHO! Ugh." 99 falls back onto his pillow, sighing. "I just have seasonal allergies, that's all this is." He blows his nose and tosses the tissue aside. "Besides if I am sick and lying in bed all week, who is going to clean up the training grounds or the storage rooms? And who is going to reorganize the barracks?" 99 looks up at Alpha, horrified. "It's time for some of the younger boys to move out of the nursery and into the bigger barracks. I have to be up for that." He tries to stand up, but is immediately pushed back down by the trooper towering above."Alphie! Get-off!" He pushes the hand away. "I'm fine!"

"Oh boy." Alpha sighs. he takes a deep breath before continuing. "Listen, vod." He gently pushes 99 back onto the pillow once more. "You look like a rancor trampled you, chewed you up, and spit you out. Now please," He gently pulls the covers up to 99's chin. "Stay and bed and get better for us. You know Kamino wouldn't be the same if something happened to you. So we need to get you nice and healthy." He pats the old man's shoulder encouragingly.

99 looks up to his brother, putting on his best puppy dog eyes."But what about all of my work this week?" He pouts. "There is so much to do. If I don't finish it, we will be completely buried." He points to a list on the nightstand. "See how long it is?"

"I will make sure it is all taken care of." Alpha-17 states, picking up the list. He reads over it quickly and sighs. "I could easily split this up between a few of the older cadets. Don't you worry." He shows the faintest of smiles. "Now rest."

"But what about moving the younger cadets to their new barracks?" 99 groans. "I promised them I would-"

"We will wait until you are better to move them. Do-NOT-get up."

"And what about tucking the younger ones?" 99 bats his eyes at Alpha innocently. "Will you be able to tuck them into bed at night like I do? I could always-"

"Yes I can. Bathe them, brush their hair and teeth, read them their bedtime story, tuck them in. I know the routine."

"Give them their nighttime forehead smooches to protect them?"

"Of course I can!" Alpha bursts out. He begins to chuckle, shaking his head at the older clone. "Now please, stop finding a reason to get out of bed, and get better." He sighs, running a hand over his head and sighs. "We can hold down the fort with our Commander out of commission, but not forever." he gives a little salute, smiling.

[angelsdevils]

Time Zone:

Warning: There are some SPOILERS Note: This story will only be on my Wattpad and AO3 which are usernames Aurora_Petals. If you see anyone claiming this plot as their own let me know. I do NOT own the characters. KoFi not mandatory but donations are appreciated!

Tag List: @omakeomuomu @thisbicc @galactict3a @6-022-10-23 @bontensbabygirl @smkandfire @artemis1862 @oikawascutie

Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Final |

Kazutora's POV:

I stood in front of the judge as he looked through my list of felonies. He was shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I can tell he hated giving minors a long sentence and I felt so guilty. I honestly deserved everything I have coming. I have made so many mistakes in my life, and I was only 15. The world would be better if I wasn’t here, the last mistake I made was killing my closest friend who stuck by my side for years. That was starting to eat me up, and I felt sick. 

“I will sentence you to 10 years at Tokyo Detention Center for Juveniles. If you break even one rule your sentence will be extended. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,”

“You will also be required to join a support group program, starting today. I expect you to do every activity they tell you. Dismissed.” I was led out of the courtroom and placed on a bus that was full of troublemakers like me. Though I doubt their sentence was as long as mine. Hell, it’s not long enough. 

I leaned my head against the window as I waited for us to arrive. It wasn’t long before we arrived, leaving the bus in an orderly fashion. When it was my turn to get off I was led inside and provided a schedule.

“These are your schedules every day. Nothing changes on the weekends, accept your classes.” One of the officers yelled at us and I looked over mine. Pretty mundane. 

5:30 AM Wake up

6:00 AM Breakfast

7:00 AM Scrub their apartan dormitories

8:30 AM Classes (Math, Art, History, Geography)

11:00 AM Recreational time

12:00 Lunch

12:30 Excercise led by a drill master

1:00 Support group 

2:30 Recreational time

4:00 Showers

5:00 Dinner

6:00 Private time

7:00 Bedtime

We were handed our grey uniforms and instructed to change immediately. I did as I was told, thoughts on nothing but my past mistakes. Once we changed, I was instructed to go straight to my support group. I folded the paper in my pocket and was led to the room by another officer. It was a silent walk, which only left me to my devilish thoughts. I walked in and all eyes fell on me. I looked around before the officer spoke. 

“Ms. Fujioka, you have a new one. He will be under you for the next 10 years.” 

I heard someone whistle, knowing it was one of the other inmates and she nodded her head. 

“Alright, please take your seat in one of the free chairs. Why not introduce yourself?” She asked after the guard left. I sat down away from everyone and looked around before looking at her. 

“My name is Kazutora Hanemiya… I am 15 years old, and I am here for~a lot of things.” I mumbled looking down. 

“Well, I won’t force you to talk about it right now… but I do want you to acknowledge what you have done. Maybe written on paper, and explain what you think were the leading factors.” I nodded my head and she smiled before turning back to everyone. 

“You came in at the perfect timing…” 

“What do you mean?” I asked confused and the guy nodded his head towards Ms. Fujioka. 

“As I was saying, we are trying something new out. We know, that people your age don’t want to talk with people older than you. So we thought, as a way to open up about your life and to still keep you connected to the outside world, we are going to be doing a pen pal kind of deal. Now it’s not always going to be someone in Japan. We work with so many schools across the world. So they may be somewhere overseas. They will have your profiles, no pictures just a name, age, and birthday. If they choose you, we will let you know. And will probably receive your first letter within a few weeks. Sometimes, longer maybe sooner. Any questions?”

“So, we have no idea who we are writing?” One person asked, and I leaned against my hand. I was slightly interested but I doubt I would have been chosen. I sigh softly as she spoke again.

“Nope, unless they send a picture you will have no idea. You are the first group we have decided to try this with. So it’s a test run, if it works then we will be keeping it in place. If not we will go back to our boring lectures as we did before.”

“So, that means we won’t have to deal with lectures during this period?” The guy next to me asked and she shook her head.

“Nope, but you will be telling me what you learned about your person. I hope you guys get letters soon. For anyone who doesn’t get a letter, we will keep your file open for other schools to eventually choose from. Kazutora, if you have any questions do let me know. You can spend the rest of this session, writing your small essay.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She got up and walked to the other inmates, and the one beside me ended up talking. 

“My name is Sato Toshiaki, but people call me Toshi. Been here for a couple of years now.” 

“Oh, nice to meet you…I guess.” 

“No need to be cold might as well make friends while you are here. Since you will be here for 10 years.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Honestly, should be here longer.” 

“Well, the way I see it. You know what you did was fucked up, so that’s the first step. According to Ms. Fujioka, so might as well accept it.”

“Mm, I guess…” I mumbled as I worked on my essay. It was quiet for the rest of the session. 

The day had gone by so fast, that I didn’t even realize it was time for bed. Turned out I was stuck with Toshi, who talks a lot. When it was time for the lights to go out, I lay in bed staring at the top bunk. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was but after the day I had, it was a given I would be tired. Yet I could barely sleep because of the events, between Baji’s death, and the fight with Toman, Mikey, Mikey’s brother. Everything. It was becoming too much for me to handle. 

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

[crabussy]

red guy?

– Overall opinion of them OGUHGGGGHHGJFHJGF. OURRUHGHRHHG....... HGHNGH..

– Gender/sexuality headcanons girl I do not know. that man(?) is a mystery. he wants to kiss that rabid bird freak soooooooooo bad though. if you asked him his pronouns he would probably say "don't say that, thats rude." he doesn't know what pronouns are.

– Favorite moment in canon every time he screams or exhibits symptoms of autism. so. every single scene he is in ever pretty much (though I especially love when he sang on stage in dhmis 6 (webseries) and when he honked the horn at roy and threw him out the window.. and also in dhmis 6 where he was trying so hard to help yellow. love me some emotional turmoil)

– Favorite moment in a fanwork whenever he ties his yarn up/braids it/styles it (OR when he lets duck do it. I am sick in the head over these puppets)

– Favorite line, in canon or otherwise "Hey. The worm in my brain tells me I don't have the body type to pull off wearing denim. But I just tell it to pipe down." and he was RIGHT. goog lord *wipes sweat off my brow and collaps

– Characters I love seeing them interact with duck and yellow guy....... they are best friends (they are actively attempting to kill each other) I love how he sticks up for yellow guy a lot, and tries to look out for him (mostly)... and I love the dynamic he has with duck. what is wrong with them

– Last thing before sleeping headcanons I like to think he makes dinner for his friends [: and then he reads yellow a bedtime story and gets up to hit duck on the head when duck inevitably attempts to demonstrate his singing skills

– Sleeping habits headcanons he sleeps like a plank of wood. a log. perhaps even a woodshed. arms by his sides legs straight out. he sleeps with his mouth open and duck likes to put spiders in his mouth while red is sleeping

– First thing after waking up headcanons coughs up 7 spiders and goes to brush his teeth

– Favorite locations headcanon anywhere away from that house. but also his armchair

[geenalovesthelittlethings]

(more bonus dad au because i’m obsessed) when H is in bed sick and her youngest is asking if she’s gonna give him bedtime cuddles and read him a story like mum and harry do for her and her sister when she’s unwell the missus is all 🥺at how attentive her littlest is and tells her that sometimes grown ups need taking care of when they’re not feeling good

PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE 🥺. And she's so earnest about it too when she asks her momma if she's going to take care of Harry like they do for her and her sister. Without missing a beat the missus is all, "Yeah, of course I am. Do you want to pick out a mug for his tea?" She nods excitedly and goes straight to he cupboard where they're kept.

"This one's his favorite one, Mumma," she says, holding it up proudly.

"That is a good one, huh? Do you want to help me bring it to him? We have to be so, so quiet, okay? I think he's having a little snooze."

"Okay," she whispers in her tiny voice.

And I love the thought that even though the missus asks the girls to not go into their room while he's napping, he wakes up with their blankets and stuffies piled around him and on top of him because they wanted to make him feel better and snuck in to leave them with him and he's all 🥺

[self-ships-ahoy]

💬 and Medic!

send me 💬 and a character and I'll give you a line my s/i would say if in a canon interaction with them.

Naturally. -u- (And thanks for the ask!)

Ok, this is more within their ship canon, as opposed to the canonical events of tf2. I figured it'd work out more since I'm still working on my comfort au. I don't think anyone here really minds though lol

~🚑~

Tech was sick in bed with a flu. Medic saw to her treatment personally, the quality of which surprised the others, but it just showed how much he cared about her - just as the amount of trust Tech put in Medic showed her care for him.

He's just prepared some tea to help her symptoms ease up and her mind relax for sleep. It's a useful concoction - but all natural and nothing exactly "experimental". (another shocker to the mercs)

Medic: "There, you see? No harm done. You'll be off to dreamland shortly, now. Do you need anything else while I am here?"

Tech, after thinking a moment: "Could you... tell me a story...?"

Medic, smiling at the surprise request: "You want me to read you a bedtime story?"

Tech: "If you don't mind... I... I like listening to you." Her face, ever so pale from sickness, still managed to blush a tad.

Medic, blushing even stronger: "Oh- heh- my, I'm flattered! *ahem* What would you like to hear, then?" He started glancing at her small bookshelf.

Tech: "...How did you invent the medigun?"

Medic: "Oh, I never told you that story? Well, if you would rather listen to something personal, I'll happily tell you. Let's see..."

*Tech begins to relax more as Medic recounts the tale, lulled by his soft and gentle tone*

[tryingthoughts]

I remember when I was a child I had convinced myself that I was a "good" sleeper, and had no problems with sleep.

I convinced myself of that in two ways; by doing a one-time attempt at meditsting that happened to be succeasful. the other way was by repeating prayer-like affirmations about what the next 9 hours would look like: "there will be no accidents, no nightmares, no sickness, no fires, no family deaths, the parents will be ok through the night, the doggo will be a-ok, the siblings will be safe at college and in the next room over, you will wake up at 6 feeling well rested and ready for the school day." that was around the time I started saying "I love you" to my parents before bed because I wanted them to know I loved them in case anything happened. there was a period of time when I'd try praying to deities - I grew up Roman Catholic and my sister said she felt calm after praying to God so I tried it. I prayed to some Greek Gods too for a while because i enjoyed reading about them. mostly the prayers were just spoken journals, I'd tell them about my day, about what was happening tomorrow and all that. and ask that no bad things would happen.

eventually I decided praying/affirmations were exhausting (but not in a sleep inducing way, funnily enough) because I'd have to think about all the things that could possibly go wrong in the course of the next 9 hours and ask that they wouldn't happen. that would take time and send me on thought trains of how to word my prayers in a way that encompasses any and all bad thing that could occur. avoiding any loopholes the gods could manipulate. still, I never thought of myself as a bad sleeper.

apparently i used to sleep walk and sleep talk when I was younger. not frequently, but enough that my mom got a baby gate for the top of the stairs, hoping I wouldn't be able to open it and walk down the stairs, unlock the door, and out into the street. but my siblings and I had experience sneaking around past bedtime because we wanted companionship or snacks but didn't want to be yelled at. so we learned to climb over the gate/banister to get down the stairs. one night I climbed over the gate sleep walking.

in high-school and late middle school my go to answer for "how are you" from my mom, or anyone really, was "tired". and my mother took that as only being attributable to a physical ailment. so she took me to my doctor, he tested my blood and turns out I have hypothyroidism (under active thyroid), which can cause fatigue. my mom also has this, but refuses to take her prescribed medicine (we are prescribed the same drug). that's another story though. the medicine hasn't made me feel less fatigued, in fact, I notice no change in the way I feel since taking it. I have no doubt it contributes to the regular functioning of my body and is not unhelpful, but I reckon I am tired for a different reason:

mental health

I now think I sleep poorly. I stay asleep for the most part, but getting to sleep is a trial. I think a lot and have difficulty not doing so. I used to never want to sleep because I felt restless and wanted to go to school. I then came to the state of "never wanting to wake up from sleep, but once awake, never wanting to sleep". and then I arrived at where I am now: "never wanting to be awake". I listen to ASMR to try and drown out my thoughts and feel comfort enough to sleep. I got some melatonin that I haven't taken in six months or so because I am nervous about missing phone calls or not being able to wake up in emergency situations.

this is the most exhaustive composition about my reflection on sleep that I have the energy for at the moment. it's longer than I thought it would be for this medium. I guess I have thought about sleep more than I realized.

[cinebration]

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

~~

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

~~

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

~~

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

~~

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

[shepherds-of-haven]

I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint! 

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

[h2bakugou]

oh my god hi, ive binge read all your stuff recently tbh XD

Can i request a song fic for one Bakuhoe please? I feel “Fruit Roll Ups” by Waterparks would work perfectly for him (x gn!reader ofc)

I hope that made sense? yeah sorry XD THANK YOU IF YOU DO akskhfjfkdka

a/n: hii!! yes! i just started playing this song to write this request, and i am HOOKED. it's so good, and it radiates such bakugou energy.

summary: bakugou realizes he has a bit of a soft spot for you.

song: Fruit Roll Ups by Waterparks

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

word count: 1k (lyrics included)

> fanart < made by the lovely @windex-princess-ami for this story!!

;cut for length;

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I got some Fruit By The Foot if you wanna come over Yeah, you can wrap your arms so tight Right 'round my shoulders In case you're scared of the movies I pick I'm sorry in advance for that shit

Your phone screen illuminates with a text from your boyfriend who's deemed 'katsu bae<3' in your contacts. His message is short and sweet, saying he picked up from snacks for your arranged movie night if you were ready to head on over.

You shoot a message back saying you'd be over in a few minutes. You'd been looking forward to spending a bit more time with him. Training had kept the both of you busy lately.

You look forward to cuddling with him because you know he'll pick something spooky, maybe a thriller. You know he's just using it as an excuse for you to snuggle into him. But you don't mind.

Bakugou feels a little bad for making you watch stupid scary movies that he finds to be rather annoying or funny while you may jump or cling to him when he wants to bust out laughing.

When you talk It's in cursive to me And it's nicer than anything I'd believe about me It's like that shit was written in gel pen And I love those

You're sitting in his lap this time around, his arms draped around your shoulders. You're just chatting about your day but Bakugou is kind of zoning out. He's listening, but he's just hearing your voice. It's angelic and beautiful.

He can't quite understand how you can sound so beautiful, almost like your voice was writing in cursive, the delicate strokes were the way you sounded out his name.

And whenever you complimented him, he felt warm inside. Whenever you said anything about him, he felt warm inside. You were so kind. So loving. He wasn't sure how you just seemed to brush his brashness aside, but you did, and it astounded him.

If you want to see me Acting so desperately So desperately All you gotta do is stop texting me Just to flex on me

Bakugou can't stand it when you text him all the time, asking him to come over when you're laying in bed, blowing up his phone even though he's supposed to be sleeping.

He's not mad. He's jealous. He wants to be right there beside you, but he isn't. He replies 'if you wanna see me so bad then just come over.' but you usually just tell him to go to bed and that it's past his little bedtime.

Bakugou knows you just love messaging him goodnight whenever it is you go to sleep. And he'll wait for those messages. And if it's been too long, and you don't respond, you'll always wake up with a 'goodnight dumbass <3' from him in the morning, way too late for him to have stayed up.

It's true I'm a little bitch for you now I don't wanna say it way too loud But I'm a little bitch for you now

Bakugou hates it. The way you make him feel. It's the good kind of hate, the kind of hate you learn to love. Like hearing that one song on repeat so much you end up adding it to your playlist because you have it memorized at this point anyway.

He feels warm and happy. He feels like maybe he doesn't deserve someone like you. You're so perfect, so perfect for him, maybe too perfect even.

Bakugou can't help but mumble to himself that he's gotten soft, and Kaminari's teasing comments certainly don't help either. He's supposed to be the tough number one hardass, but here you are breaking him out of that stupid little box he's locked himself in to try and remain on top.

He'd already fallen, fallen so hard and so far for you.

I bought these really sick lights if you wanna come over They tried to scam me twice But look, they both can change colors like that Like that, oh oh

Bakugou refuses to send you any regular pictures after Kaminari practically bought those LED light strips for him. Though it was far too hard to actually purchase them and install them, Bakugou's always sending you some pic in the pretty red lights or moody blue ones.

You enjoy laying on his bed while they're on, listening to him talk about what Deku said to him earlier while you switch them to green just to egg him on. He's complaining shouting at you to change them back to orange or red.

You switch them to your favorite color and now he can't complain-even if your favorite color is green.

I don't wanna leave my house 'Cause in here I'm the ruler With my refrigerator Full of Pacific Cooler But for you, I'd brave all the traffic outside The way you brave all the bullshit I hold inside

When Bakugou leaves the privacy of his loneliness to be with you, he's vulnerable. But he tolerates it, swallowing down those weird feelings he's never really understood before.

But he does it. He braves it for you. The way you stand up to him when he's a jerk to Midoriya, or when he raises his voice at you, or when you spar and he's not holding back. You tell him to let it out. Everything he keeps inside, you tell him you can handle it, and you do.

He doesn't understand how you do it. But he doesn't want to.

Oh it's true, ooh I'm a little bitch for you now I'm a little bitch, oh my God Did I say that too loud? It's true I'm a little bitch for you now I don't wanna say it way too loud But I'm a little bitch for you now

"Fuck, I love you so fuckin' much." Bakugou mumbles against your forehead as you cuddle.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling into him more. He freezes when he feels your smile.

"You didn't hear that..." He replies softly, nuzzling himself into your hair, flustered by his own words of admiration for you.

"You know I love you just as much right? Even if it sounds cheesy." You lift your head to look him in his crimson-colored eyes. He just hums quietly, leaning down to press a little kiss to your cheek.

"I know. I just, wanna remember this moment for a while." Bakugou replies, closing his eyes as he holds you close.

"You wanna split a fruit roll-up after?" You ask quietly.

"Mhm."

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