#i had the idea for this silly au before falling asleep

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

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[yeetus-feetus]

de-aging au

Duke is a much smaller Duke one day, he's lost all his memories beyond the young age he is now and he's scared and confused. He doesn't know where is. But then there's Tim, his Robin! And suddenly everything is

The bats have no idea what's going on, but Duke refuses to go to anyone but Tim. He's also a little ball of energy bouncing off all the walls, and Tim is SO tired. "Robin- Tim, come play tag with me!"

One night Tim ends up passing out at his desk, a sleeping Duke cuddling into him on his lap.

Except when Duke wakes up Tim is small too. And he doesn't remember who Duke is!!

So Duke reintroduces himself and Tim let's himself be dragged downstairs to the actually Batcave!

Bruce is looking at them in absolute astonishment, they're so small!!

Damian laughs at Tim's smallness and Tim gives a cold glare. Maybe age can't change some things.

"where are Nightwing and the new Robin?" Tim asks.

"I'm Robin."

"no, I meant Jason!" Tim huffs and crosses his arms. Ah, he's so young he still believes Jay is Robin.

Duke is still clinging to him, but Tim can't bring himself to mind all too much.

Bruce doesn't know how to handle these boys, between a hyperactive Duke and an absolute menace Tim.

Dick tries to help, but even he can't keep up with the mischief and shenanigans they get up to together.

"dick pick us up!"

"yeah! Pick us up pick us up! And swing us around until we get dizzy!"

"again!"

"again!"

It's time to bring out the big guns, and by that they mean calling Jason over to the manor.

Tim settles immediately, but Duke remains overly weary around the large man with guns strapped to his thighs. He's kinda scary.

But Tim likes Jason well enough. At some point he ends up cuddled up with Jason who's stretched out on the couch, and Duke is just a little bit jealous.

"hey stop hogging him! Tim is mine," Duke pouts.

Jason raises an eyebrow at the boy, and Tim tilts his head. "You know there's enough room for both of us up here, right? Jason is a lot bigger than he used to be."

Duke considers this. "Mm okay, but only because you're up there". And he climbs up into Jason's lap to cuddle into Tim's side.

It's calm for a moment, until Duke starts to fidget, not able to stay still for too long. Jason let's put an annoyed noise and looks at them over the top of his book. "Would you quit it I'm tryna read here".

"what are you reading?" Duke asks.

"Macbeth."

Tim scrunched his nose up. "Why are you reading that?"

"I like it. Reminds me of school", and Tim catches something in his tone that Duke absolutely doesn't.

"it sounds silly. Will you red it to us?"

Jason looks at the both of them for a very long moment before signing. "Sure, but you've gotta stay still, your knees are already in my ribs."

The three of them all end up falling asleep like that, tucked into the lounge and curled up together.

Except when they wake up in the morning, Jason is scrawny little boy, even smaller than Tim and Duke.

Tim explains what he can to the tiny Jason as Duke sneaks some snacks from the kitchen cupboard for them.

Cass catches them stuffing their faces with junk food and squeals. "Three baby brother's now!" And scoops them all up as the quick and try to squirm away.

"gotta tell B"

"wait who are you exactly?" Jason asks.

"big sister", Cass smiles and pets his curls.

"no way! Really? I've never had a big sister before", he exclaims.

Cass carries all three of them down to the Batcave because she's so strong and cool! And Jason can't believe he ends up with such a cool sister.

"Batman!!!" Jason shouts in pure excitement, and Bruce turns around and almost cries.

Because look how small!! Oh baby Jay lad!! So precious and smol!

"I think the de-aging syndrome may be contagious", Tim speaks up. "You should have us all properly quarantined until you can find a cure."

quarantine is fun, for Jason and Tim at least (tiny Tim is plotting revenge on whoever caused this, Jason is reading and occasionally shouting at the characters). Duke can't stand having to stay still in the same one room for so long.

idk where this is going, but consider this awesome 3am idea of mine

[leviscolwill]

sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.

[ween-kitchens]

I believe you (i'm not wrong)

2042 words

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

this will make no sense if you don't know this au, and it is so self indulgent, but it's easier to format fics on tumblr than on discord GKFHD

anyway this is an au that me and stiff came up with and then made increasingly more angsty. this is the happiest part of the whole plotline if you can believe it

cw: panic attack, hurt/comfort

gem winces as she nicks her finger with the hammer for what she's pretty sure is the fourth time tonight, but she's not really been keeping count. it might be the fifth. it- okay, gem knows she should sleep, but she just- it- she doesn’t like the idea of sleeping right now. you can’t keep your mind off stuff if you’re asleep—they just turn into nightmares, and gem really doesn’t want to have another nightmare again. it's- she doesn't want to bother scar again.

she could bother joel. hypothetically speaking, gem could go up the mountain and knock on his door and awkwardly explain at three in the morning why she can’t sleep and that she needs his help, but- void, there is nothing she wants to do less right now. she loves joel- really, and it's more than likely that he'd be pretty helpful actually. it's- it's just too much right now. gem would rather build her problems away.

it takes longer than it probably should have done for gem to realise that her hand is bleeding, but she can’t be bothered to do anything about it; it doesn’t hurt much. besides, it's just another scar to add to the list of silly accidents she's had while building—like that time she almost took her finger off because she wasn't paying attention when she was dismantling some iron bars with less care than she should have been.

wiping sweat off her forehead, gem steps back for a second, taking in her work. her very wonky work. void, gem really needs to sleep soon, but there's no way that's happening without at least four nightmares, regardless of how much she tries to keep her mind occupied by something else. it's all she can think about- she's barely even done anything, despite 'building' for at least six hours now. the wood is unevenly cut, the moss is slowly dropping chunks into the sand from the roof, and the whole house looks like it's about to collapse on itself. that's- okay, that's the look she was going for, but it was meant to be structurally sound in actuality.

this was a bad idea- building a town that reminds her so damn much of where she grew up. it wasn't- it's not like gem really thought it through until it was too late to change her theme, and now she's kind of stuck. how in- anyone's name did she not even realise what she was building until after the nightmares started again?

.. don't answer that, actually. she doesn’t want to know.

maybe if gem sits down here, she'll fall asleep before she can start thinking about.. anything she doesn’t want to be thinking about. it feels like her limbs are made of lead, and gem has begun to debate on which sleep deprivation is worse: the exhausted building or the nightmares. maybe she'll flip a coi- what the fuck was that.

a figure- there's something- it's coming-

she hasn't- why the fuck didn’t she sleep- she knows what happens if she doesn’t sleep. can it reach her? can it make it onto the sand- can it outrun her? what if- what if it can walk, and she just never- gem never knew because she only encountered it whilst sailing but- she's endangered the whole server because of her stupid mistake-

stealing a glance behind her, gem's heart drops into the abyss- it's gaining on her. she's dead, she's going to die, she's doomed everyone, there's no escape-

something grabs her arm.

a strangled scream forces itself out of her tattered lungs, and she swings- desperation flooding her mind. she's gone- she's going to die- she's going to die-

"gem! please- it's me! it's me."

she opens her eyes, breaths still tearing their way through her throat, and- when did she get on the floor? her vision swims, body shaking too violently to steady herself and she thinks she must be drowning. there's a figure above her- there's- there's something above her.

her hands are numb and she's shaking and she's on the floor and she's not drowning, but she may as well be because she can’t fucking breathe. she's going to die and she's going to deserve it- she's- it's all- there's nothing left-

someone is holding her hands. she is having a panic attack and someone is holding her hands. she's not dying- she wishes she was dead. why would- who is- where is she? who is talking?

there's- there's her name. she feels like she's falling, but someone is talking and holding her hands and she's not drowning. did she- did she break something? was it her fault? she didn’t mean to.

a hand- a thumb against her face. gem was- she is crying. her vision is clearing but nothing will process and she just- she just wants to go home. she doesn't have a home anymore. she broke her home.

she didn't mean to. she's sorry- she just wanted to fix it. she's sorry. she is breathing, and she's not drowning, and she's not dying. right? is- is she right?

"right." there's a voice, and it sounds like home. she is crying again. "you’re okay."

no that's- she's not- she can’t be okay, ever again- she ruined it. there's nothing- she can’t- there's nothing left. she broke it- she ruined it. she's sorry.

her hands are warm. someone is holding her hands, and she's breathing and she's not drowning. there's a figure in front of her- there's scar in front of her.

"i’m sorry." gem's voice is sore, and comes out quieter than she expected it to. she's not drowning. "I never- i’m so sorry."

scar is crying, and gem is holding his hands. "I know." he says, and he’s quiet too. "I didn’t- void. I don't think i’ve- ever been on the receiving end of that."

it takes gem a moment to understand what he means, and her chest fills with emotion. she tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

"what-" scar's voice breaks, and gem wants to hug him. she doesn’t know if she's allowed. "what did you think I was?"

gem takes a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I never- I never knew what they actually were." she whispers. "they'd- if you didn't sleep, they'd appear."

scar is silent, and gem almost apologises, but her voice seems to have abandoned her. maybe this is all she can ever have- was she asking too much of him just now? void- the whole plan was to avoid pestering scar, and now she's had a panic attack because she mistook him for- that- okay, it doesn’t matter what, but now he’s dealing with her and she doesn't know if he even wants to, or if he just feels obligated-

"can you stand?" scar asks suddenly, and gem takes a second to recalibrate. can- what? can she stand? of course but- why is she standing? gem doesn’t actually ask any of this, of course, but the questions arise nonetheless.

gem lets go of scar's hands and pushes herself upwards on weak legs, but she doesn’t let it show. she wipes her face and takes a breath, bolstering herself for whatever it is she has to do next.

but scar just holds his hand out. "can you come sleep?"

gem is so surprised, she takes half a step backwards before she realises how rude that looks, and steps forward again, hoping she can play it off as rocking. "I don't- what?"

scar looks almost embarrassed, and gem finds herself getting even more confused. "well- if you-" he clears his throat awkwardly. "if- I can’t, um. I can’t be mad if you're.. not sleeping."

is scar being deliberately vague, or is gem's brain just too tired to understand what is going on? she shakes her head, still trying to process what scar could possibly mean. "I don’t- I don’t know what you-"

"I don't want you to stay up so late." scar says, and his voice is soft like gem hasn't heard it in months, and she might cry. again. "I just- I know you can’t sleep unless you have a distraction. I was trying to ask- can I be the distraction?"

gem takes a shaky breath. "oh." it's all she can manage- it's all she can think right now. gem is tearing up again and she wipes her eyes hurriedly. "I- are you sure?"

scar nods, smiling tearfully. "I miss you. I never- I didn’t expect how much." he holds out his hand again. "will- will you come with me?"

there's a moment of hesitation, of is she allowed, before gem slips her hand into scar's and squeezes. "i'd be happy to."

-

the conversation between her and scar on the way to his base was awkward and best, and plain old silence at worst, so gem was a little nervous for what it'd be like when they tried to go to sleep. what if scar changed his mind- or if one of them had another nightmare and suddenly both of them couldn't sleep? what if scar was just- lying, or something, and he was just expecting gem to say she was fine on her own?

gem has never been happier to be so wrong about something in her life.

in all the time she's known scar, gem has never seen scar transfer into bed so fast—and he practically pulled her after him before she'd even got her shoes off. once gem crawled under the duvet, she and scar may as well have just become one body. it's so bizarre, how easily they can pick up where they left off, even after so much time, and when gem rests her head against scar's chest, it feels like home.

and- void, gem missed this so much. the way they fit against each other like they were made for each other, the feeling of scar's hand in her hair, the warmth in her stomach as she burrows under the duvet- it's the closest to perfect that gem thinks can exist. it feels as if she could close her eyes and drift off in an instant, she feels so safe.

scar buries his face in gem's hair. "I love you." he mumbles, and gem almost starts to cry again.

"I love you too." she holds scar tighter, voice wavering embarrassingly. "i’m sorry- i’m so sorry. it- for everything."

"i’m sorry too." scar whispers, sounding close to tears. "I shouldn't have- i’m so sorry gem." he presses a kiss to the top of gem's head.

gem's throat is tight, and she swallows a sob. "it- it's okay. I didn't- you didn’t mean it."

"neither did you." scar's voice is painfully soft, and gem blinks back tears. "it wasn't- I have to-" scar gives a little huff—the one he does when he's tripping over his words. "I- gem, I forgive you."

it hits her a moment later, like something melting in her chest, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over come clawing back up her throat. I forgive you.

gem is sobbing into scar's shoulder, and scar is holding her tight and he’s crying too, and she knows that if she asked why, he'd say that if she's crying then he's gonna cry too, and she's missed him so much. her chest aches with each breath, and she doesn’t care because he forgives her, and she doesn't deserve it, but scar thinks she does, and there's nothing in the world more important than that.

"you’re- you’re so important to me, gem." scar says, voice thick with tears, but gem can hear his smile—which only wants to make her cry more. "I couldn't- there was nothing that would have kept me from you. not even myself."

"I love you." gem is still crying, and she's smiling, and she's hugging scar, and there's nothing that could ruin this moment. "i’m- I could never-" she chokes on her words and dissolves into another sob, holding scar like a lifeline.

"if- if you keep crying, i’m not gonna be able to stop." scar says, hiccuping a weak laugh.

"that's- that's your fault." gem manages through sobs, half laughing. "I blame you."

scar pulls her closer, and gem melts into him, tension she didn't even know she was holding leaving her. "you're so wonderful." he says, and gem almost sobs.

"you’re not- i’m gonna keep crying if you say stuff like that." gem says, and scar is laughing, and she's a mess but she doesn’t care.

scar forgives her.

[talekinesis]

Thunder Storms

So I've decided to make this an AU where Dale doesn't completely suck. Like he's still the mostly canon Dale, where he kinda sucks, Dev looks for affection and approval, and he can be kinda aloof, but in this AU, he actually recognizes this and does make an effort to be a dad to his kid

I'm stuck between calling it the "Okay Parent AU" or the "Dale's Not Terrible AU (DNT)"

He does care about Dev he just sucks at showing it basically. I will expand on this more in later posts, this us already super long

Summary: It's storming and Dev is scared

Dev laid there, curled up under the covers, as still as possible as if he could hide from the flashes of light outside. As a loud, rolling boom sounded he froze and began to shake slightly.

His blue eyes flicked over to his "dog," laying at the foot of his bed. He wanted more than anything to wake Peri up, but he knew he was still recovering from Magical Back-up and needed the rest. So carefully, he pushed the blankets back and slipped out of bed, shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor.

He crept out of his room and down the hall, freezing with a frightened whimper each time lightning flashed.

For as long as he could remember, he's always been afraid of storms. When he was much younger, maybe five, he used to run to his dad and stay with him until the storm cleared. At five, your dad is indestructible, and the safest place in the world.

Now at eleven, he found himself tiptoeing toward his father's room again. He hadn't done this in a couple years, having tried to convince himself he'd grow out of it, but the thunder was shaking within the walls, and the kid was scared.

He wasn't entirely sure how his father would react to him coming into his room this late, and for a storm no less, so he tried to think ahead. Maybe he'd sleep on the floor, or just sit in the doorway until the storm cleared up. But the problem with that, was he didn't know when it would clear up. It could take the rest of the night for all he knew.

In the past couple of years, Dale had told him it was silly to fear storms because they were outside, and they couldn't get inside. That it was just rain and some noise. That he'd grow out of it. He knew his father probably hadn't meant to dismiss his fears, but that's definitely how it felt.

He pushed the door open and let his eyes adjust. His dad was asleep and facing the doorway, so he had to be careful. Dev crept further inside and toward the bed, his heart racing.

Logically he knew that, worst case scenario, his dad would wake up and just send him back to bed. But the idea of waking him up over something this silly scared him. He hated to upset, inconvenience, or irritate his dad. Dale had a short temper and wasn't always tactful when trying to get Dev to listen to him.

Thunder and lightning both struck, startling the child into just dropping to the floor with a soft thud, accidentally shaking the bed a little as he pressed himself against the side of it.

His heart was racing and tears started to sting his eyes.

It's just rain and some noise. It's silly to be this scared of some weather, and one day he'd grow out of it. It's just a silly, irrational fear.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a large hand clumsily felt around the side of the bed until it landed in his red curls. He heard a groan and a body sitting up before he was lifted off the floor and placed in bed next to his father, who promptly laid back down, exhausted. Blankets were pulled up over them both, and Dale's breathing soon evened back out, signaling that he had gone right back to sleep.

Dev laid there for a moment just processing what had happened before he turned onto his side and curled up, his eyes heavy. Now that the panic was gone, his body was screaming at him just how tired he was. He scooted just a bit closer to his dad and started to fall asleep.

Not a single word was spoken between them but the message was loud and clear.

___

Bonus:

Thunder boomed and rattled each window in the apartment. Hazel sat up and yawned, getting out of bed. She grabbed her blanket, wrapped it around herself, and slipped into the hall, heading for her parents room.

She opened the door, and just let herself flop to the floor, right there in the door, her legs still in the hallway.

Having heard the thud, and knowing the routine, her mother just barely woke up and cracked her eyes open.

"You gonna stay in the doorway, Haze?"

"Mhm.."

"Okay baby, good night."

"G'night.."

[navybrat817]

A New Tradition

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't have any holiday traditions, but maybe he can start something new with you. Word Count: Over 2.5k Warnings: Slight angst, mention of trauma, pining, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). Future fluff and smut for this couple. A/N: This idea hit me and it wouldn't let go until I wrote it down. Set in the same AU as lumberjack!Steve, I hope to share more when I can. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at the ceiling from the floor as he tried to fall asleep. Evergreen and spice lingered in his nostrils from the earlier festivities of the evening. One of the songs you sang over dinner played in a loop in his head, a beautiful melody of hope.

It didn't stop him from feeling as cold as the weather outside.

Random bouts of insomnia weren't new to him, but he couldn't put his finger on what his issue was tonight. It was a good day filled with happy moments thanks to you, the neighbor he harbored a crush on. He moved into the building around the same time as you after his pardon and someone delivered one of your packages to his door by mistake. Luckily you lived just across the hall and he made sure the box ended up in your hands.

He hadn’t expected a goddess in human form to answer the door.

“I got your box,” he said harsher than he intended to.

He half expected you to slam the door in his face for his tone. If you recognized him as the former Winter Soldier, you kept it to yourself. In fact, you didn’t look afraid of him at all as you took the box from his hands. He almost told you that you should be scared of him.

“Thank you so much for bringing it over,” you smiled.

It was the start of an unexpected friendship. He tried to find excuses to stop and talk to you whenever he saw you, which ended with him giving you an awkward smile in the beginning before he walked away. He used to know how to talk to girls and it was silly having a crush on a neighbor when he was trying to get his head on straight.

If only you didn’t make it so easy to want.

And you either found him endearing or entertaining since you began to invite him over for dinners.

Every other week, you’d trade off meals and talk about the day. You split your day between your job and making and selling jewelry online. The pieces you showed him were beautiful. You put so much care into them.

While he couldn’t give you all the details of his missions, he found himself more comfortable talking to you as time went on. One of the things he liked was that you always asked what he needed. If he wanted advice, you’d give it. If he wanted you to listen, you did just that. If he just wanted to talk, you chatted with ease.

You even stayed up with him after a few nightmares.

He was used to dealing with people who had agendas or messed with his head, but you didn’t play games.

Steve and Sam were both happy when he finally told them about you. After the former Captain America found his own girl and a bit of peace after everything, he hoped Bucky was on the path to doing the same. It impressed Sam that he actually talked to you instead of keeping everything inside.

It didn’t stop him from feeling like a burden some days.

“You’re always welcome at my place and you can always talk to me, Jamie.”

No one else was allowed to call him that.

When you heard he wasn’t doing anything around the holidays, you offered to make him a nice dinner since you wouldn't be around your family. They were, unfortunately, too far away for a quick visit. You joked that he had to watch a movie with you after dinner if he decided to come over. It was nice that you extended an invitation to him, especially when he didn’t have any traditions or anything else to look forward to.

Bucky had every intention of getting you the perfect present until an extended mission came up. He barely made it back in time to see you. Steve had to rush home to his girl and the same with Sam and his family. He declined both of their offers for him to join them, not wanting to impose on them or let you down by not showing up.

"You made it!" you said excitedly when you opened the door, looking as gorgeous as ever in a little black dress. He'd fantasize about you in it later. "You aren't hurt? You're okay?"

"Not a scratch," he assured you when he stopped staring.

"Good," you sighed in relief. "May I give you a hug? I missed you."

You didn't give him hugs without his permission and he appreciated your thoughtfulness that he might not want to be touched some days. He held his arms out for you as he wordlessly answered, taking a moment to cherish your embrace when you moved close. He didn't let it linger since he didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

But he wished he would've held you a bit longer.

"Missed you, too," he whispered as you led him inside.

If he read into it, he would’ve thought the setup was romantic. He felt a little underdressed in his leather jacket and jeans, but you didn't judge. You served by candlelight and you made sure to include all sorts of dishes he enjoyed. He ate and savored every bite. You even had a gift waiting for him under the tree before you started the movie.

He almost hugged the personalized apron and small book of recipes you made for him. He already had a meal in mind to make for you as a thank you for the next weekly dinner. But that wasn't all. You pulled out a small, white and black box from the back of the tree and handed it to him.

"You're spoiling me," he joked.

"I wanted to," you teased, messing with the hem of your dress as he opened the box.

He held his breath as he held up the dog tags. They were almost an exact replica of the ones around his neck, but there was a difference when he flipped one of them over. He ran his thumb over the letters as he read them out loud.

"I am James Bucky Barnes."

He explained to you once his need to make amends. That he was no longer the Winter Soldier. That he didn't have a choice. You took his words and created a gift for him.

His hands destroyed so many things while yours brought beauty into the world.

"I hope you like it," you said, still messing with your dress. A nervous habit he picked up on. "I know you wear yours, but I thought it would be nice to have those just in case."

"Thank you," he croaked, clearing his throat as he carefully placed them back in the box. "And I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet for not having your gift ready."

"You came over and spent the evening with me. That is a gift," you said with such sincerity that he wasn’t worthy of receiving.

Of course you wouldn’t take any offense that he showed up empty-handed. Why were you so kind to him? He wished there was mistletoe nearby simply to have the excuse to kiss you. He also wanted to thank you for making him feel at home.

Do I have a home anymore?

Naturally, he chose to flee when that thought became too much.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" you asked carefully as he gathered his things and got ready to leave. “We don’t have to watch the movie.”

"I should get back to my place, but thank you," was all he said.

His place, but not his home.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"I will be," he said, not wanting to lie to you.

You nodded and thanked him for stopping by. You also told him to call or come back if he needed anything. The image of your sad smile as you walked him to the door would haunt him. He just knew it. He wondered if you’d ever invite him over again for another dinner after his abrupt departure.

He attempted to meditate once he got home, but it didn’t quiet his mind. Working out got some of the tension in his body out, but not much else. He debated going back to your place, but it was too late by then.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face before his eyes trailed to the clock on the wall. It was almost 3am and he knew sleep wouldn't come to him. He grabbed his phone and debated calling you. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted to hear your voice.

He half hoped you wouldn’t answer since you deserved a peaceful night of sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself until the two of you talked.

You answered on the second ring. “Hey, Bucky,” you said with a small yawn.

Were you up waiting for me to call or did I wake you?

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said immediately. He had to get that out there.

“Please, don’t apologize,” you replied. He knew he should’ve let you rest. “Do you need me to listen, talk, or give advice?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his vibranium hand forming a fist as he took a deep breath. “You treated me to a nice night. The best night and I just,” he gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

He was at a loss because everything tonight was right and he didn’t know what was wrong. If he couldn’t pinpoint the issue, how could he know how to fix it? How could you? It was bad enough when he was alone with his own mind and nightmares, but it was another when he felt helpless.

He didn’t like that sense of control being taken away from his own thoughts.

“Do you mind if I say something?” you offered after a few more seconds of silence.

“Not at all,” he whispered, if only to hear you speak.

“I think you might be feeling a bit alone or lost,” you said. He heard a bit of shuffling around and wondered if you were trying to get comfortable. “Holidays, for many, are about being with family and friends. When was the last time you got to celebrate with your loved ones?”

“Before I went off to war,” he whispered.

He swallowed as he put his head on the pillow. Hydra made sure he never felt the happiness of this time of year. The couple of years he went into hiding after the fall, he was alone. After healing in Wakanda, he went back into the fight. The snap happened.

And his family?

They’re long gone now.

Sam, Nat, everyone had their own traditions. Steve lost so much and deserved his quiet moments outside of the city. None of them needed to rearrange their lives to accommodate him.

Holidays were a joyous time, but also a reminder of things lost and what could have been.

“Jamie,” you breathed out. “If my dinner tonight upset you in any way, I’m-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he stopped you, gripping his phone tighter. “It isn’t your fault my family is gone and you aren’t the cause of my pain.”

One of the reasons he respected you was because you didn’t pity him. He didn’t want you to start tonight.

“Then I need you to take back your apology because you aren’t the cause of my pain either,” you argued.

Touche.

“But I left you alone after you went to all that trouble and had those gifts made for me,” he said.

Why are you not mad at me?

“It wasn’t any trouble, but maybe it was too much or overwhelming."

“I swear, it wasn’t,” he said. How could he make you believe him? “I just have no traditions now. No special meals, movies, gifts, things to pass on, nothing."

He did just fine on his own for years, but things changed. He wouldn’t have believed he deserved happy moments before therapy and meeting you, but he did and he does. You gave him a taste of what he could have. Why couldn't he let himself take it?

"Maybe I can help you create a new tradition."

"You're done more than enough," he promised, smiling at your offer.

You've done more than you could ever know.

“I wanted to give you a special night, but I didn’t check in to see if the holiday dinner was what you really wanted. I should’ve asked, Jamie.”

“Are you kidding? Without you, I wouldn’t have even had a holiday to celebrate. It was perfect,” he promised you, standing up as he tried to gather the courage to say that you are perfect. “Did you know the only thing I wanted to do when I got back was see you?”

“Really?” you asked in a small voice. “That was the only thing you wanted?”

“Really,” he said. It wasn’t a full confession, but it was coming out. “And that’s exactly what I got, so thank you.”

“Well, to be honest, the reason I suggested a movie was so we could possibly cuddle,” you admitted.

And I fucking ruined it.

“I would’ve liked cuddling,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I really liked your dress.”

“I wore that just for you,” you said in a hushed voice, like you were trying to keep quiet. “Is there anything else about tonight that you wish would’ve been different? If you could do it all over again?”

“Honestly?” he said, not caring that he only had his boxer briefs on as he left his bedroom and headed toward the main door. “I would’ve kissed you the moment I got back from the mission.”

Even with his super soldier hearing, he had no idea you were on the other side of the door until he opened it. You still had your phone in hand as you gazed at him, no longer wearing the black dress. You switched to red and green pajamas that looked amazing on you, but he would prefer them on his floor.

“New tradition proposal,” you smiled as you stepped inside and ended the call. “We have a nice meal together, exchange gifts by the tree, and cuddle on the couch for a movie.

"Okay," he smiled, hanging up his phone, too.

"And end the night with a kiss," you said hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

Your face fell when you took a step back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I should-”

He reached out to pull you back toward him, smiling when your eyes widened. “Kiss me every chance you get," he said as he removed his dog tags and put them around your neck. "Starting right now.”

You smiled just as bright as you did the first day he met you. “I think I’m going to like this tradition.”

“Me, too,” he whispered, pressing his lip against yours.

Bucky couldn’t wait to start many more traditions with you.

What other traditions would we like to see from our new couple? We have Valentine's Day!❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bleachedhallways]

lullaby & goodnight. ⌇ lrh.

A/N: i have a soft spot for dad!au’s & the idea of luke being a father makes me super soft, so i wanted to indulge in my silly little fantasies.

summary: in which, your daughter is having a hard time falling asleep & luke knows exactly how to center her.

word count: 1,000+ words.

“Ollie, baby, please–”

“No.” The young girl pouts, arms crossed over her chest with her favorite plush toy held in the grip of her tiny fingers. “No, no, no!”

“Ophelia, you need to sleep. How else will you have the energy to hang out with Daddy tomorrow?” A rhetorical question, yet you hope your five-year-old has the understanding and sense to answer it; Ophelia was incredibly smart for her age and seemed to be quite mature, however, she was a child and children will do as they please, no matter how old of a soul they already seem to be. 

The tiny blonde shakes her head dramatically before looking away from you. At this point, you’re ready to admit defeat and let her stay up for as long as she wants, or at least, until she tires herself out doing whatever it was that she wanted to do. However, you wanted to sleep and your husband was in your home studio, finishing up a tune that he’d been working on for days, so grabbing him to help with your stubborn daughter was, in your mind, out of the question. You couldn’t leave her unattended, you’d feel like a shitty mother if you did and Ollie was too young to be on her own. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall asleep?” You inquire, eyebrows knit together in hopes that there was a solution to this scenario. You’re met with large, doe-like eyes, the hue of them a replica of your own. Your daughter’s gaze is innocent, yet a hint of mischief lies in the depths of her irises. 

“No, but Daddy can.” 

Of course. Ophelia was a Daddy’s girl, through and through. She and Luke shared a bond unlike one you’ve ever encountered and had each other wrapped around their fingers. Whenever you three had family outings, there were moments where you felt like you were third wheeling; it was simply your husband and your daughter’s world and you were just living in it – happily, obviously. You don’t think you’d have it any other way. Sharing life with the two of them was one of the greatest gifts you’d ever received. 

“Ol, Daddy’s busy right now.”

Ophelia wasn’t having it. She would not take ‘no’ for an answer, “I can wait for him!”

You blink twice, unsure of what to say to the child in front of you. The sound of a door opening and closing gains your attention, footsteps getting louder as they come down the hall and stop. 

Luke pokes his head into the dimly lit bedroom your daughter occupies, a gentle, tired smile on his face. “Ladies,” He greets the both of you, “everything okay in here?” he adds, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“Ollie is having a bit of trouble getting to bed.” You reply, your gaze averting from your husband to your little girl, who looks very pleased with herself; she’s about to get exactly what she wanted. 

“Oh, yeah? Can I help?” Luke offers, fully entering the room. He sits on the edge of the twin sized bed covered in pale yellow sheets, stuffed animals crammed against the headboard. 

Ophelia abandons her plush toy, leaning into her father’s hold as he opens his arms and cuddles her into his chest. A lighthearted chuckle leaves your husband’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you, “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m what she needed.”

“Figures,” You sigh, a grin pulling at your lips. “She’s got you wrapped, Lu.”

“Definitely,” He agrees, before turning his attention back to your daughter. “Alright, miss. How can I help you sleep, hm?” 

Silence fills the room as your daughter thinks for a brief moment. She’ll milk Luke for all the time that he’s willing to give her, there’s no doubt about that. Doe eyes look up, blinking innocently to really make sure he’s ready to deliver. “Sing to me, pretty please?”

Luke doesn’t waste any time in giving in to her command. If a lullaby is what she wants? It’s what she’ll get. “I can do that for you. Anything you’re wanting to hear?”

“No- wait, can I get comfy?” She asks, pulling away from her father a bit. Luke nods, shifting from his space on the edge of the bed, which prompts you to also get up in order to allow for your daughter to get comfortable under the sheets. Once she’s settled, you and your husband snuggle in on either side of her, wrapping your arms around the girl you both love most. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” Luke hums, oceanic eyes peering down at your daughter. He always looks at her with so much love and so much pride, you swear that every time you see it, your heart swells up with affection. 

Ophelia nods, her gaze trained on her father as he begins to sing softly, “Take my hand, now and forever…” 

As he continues to sing, his melodic voice filling up the space, you watch as the melody flowing from Luke’s lips sends your daughter into a blissful, serene state. Her eyes get droopy as each second passes, the calm atmosphere and warmth provided by her loving parents causing sleep to overtake her. Soon enough, her head is slumped against the pillows, her face slightly buried in the Pink Floyd shirt your husband donned. 

Your eyes meet Luke’s when you’re sure that Ophelia is sound asleep, quietly mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him. If it weren’t for him and his incredible knowledge of what your child needed, you doubt she’d be asleep by now. He smiles, blinking sleepily at you before gingerly leaving the softness your daughter’s bed provides, holding out his hand for you to take in order to leave her room. 

With a flip of a switch, the dimly lit room is drowned in darkness, save for the pink hued night light plugged into the wall. Luke closes the door as you both exit, then wraps his arm around you and leads you to your own bedroom, sighing dreamily as the prospect of sleep draws closer with each step you take.

[captain-mj]

hi! no pressure, just want to offer you an idea for non military au. ghost is former soldier, now he is a lighthouse keeper. one day he finds unconscious and maybe wounded selkie!soap on the beach and decides to take care of him, because the nearest city is very far away and he doesn't know what to do in strange situations like this.

I love this idea so much! Wrote this in a series of scenes to cover more of the story :) Also I wanted it to feel like an indie movie where you walk away feeling like you missed something.

Ghost was smoking quietly outside of the lighthouse, watching the stars. He was having one of those nights where he couldn't sleep. All of his duties were done for the night and the light would continue without him until morning. But he couldn't sleep.

Movement happened at the shoreline. His eyes quickly flicked over to it, watching for it to happen again. The water lapped over the shore and hit something, making it splash. Something that definitely was not a rock.

Occasionally, seals would wash on shore so he wanted to make sure nothing bad was happening. If they were hurt or tangled in nets, he'd try to help them. Even if the bastards liked biting him.

When he saw the soft fur lighting up in the moonlight, he resigned himself to having to help one of them. The very human foot that appeared though. That was new.

Ghost slowly walked closer, not making a sound.

The person in front of him had a seal coat on and nothing else. In this freezing cold, that wasn't a good idea. There was also blood that was slowly spreading around.

Ghost moved him gently, seeing where there was a broken spearhead in his side. Who the fuck uses spears? What the fuck happened to him that he'd be in the position to get hurt like this?

With how bad it was and how far they were from civilization, there was no way he'd make it unless Ghost did something. Good thing Ghost did all his own medical care and he could cover it.

Hopefully, mystery man wouldn't be too upset. He was sure if he explained he was ex-military and was medically trained, he'd understand. Or he wouldn't and he'd sue him.

Mystery man was heavy. And naked besides the coat. Not even underwear. He made sure to keep his... bits covered. Didn't want mystery guy waking up in a compromising position.

He'd hate to get blood all over his bed, but the couch would be hard to work with. So he laid mystery man in his bed, exposing the wound and not much else.

Ghost heated up a needle and threaded it. He started to clean the wound with vodka and pulled the spearhead out. As the needle slid in, the mystery man twitched but didn't wake up. The wound was deep and bloody, but he still got it under control. With a few bandages on top, he looked just fine.

The coat had to come off. It had blood all over it and needed to be cleaned. If it set in the fur, it might stain it. He gently took it off.

Ghost's focus on the wound shifted to focus on the man himself. His body was extremely toned like he worked out constantly. Scars littered his body, big ones that looked like they were from a shark and little ones from something. He couldn't quite figure it out.

Ghost put a blanket over him. After a moment, he tucked him in. Felt a little silly to be a grown man tucking in a grown man, but he did it for some reason. Mystery man sank a little further into the bed when he did it. His mohawk just barely stuck out from the blankets.

The coat. Ghost grabbed it and took it to his laundry room. With how it looked, he probably needed to handwash it. He soaked it first, getting all of the blood out, before he put some soap on it. It was the same he used for his balaclava so he knew it wouldn't be damaging. Then he put it up to dry.

It took a while, but he managed to fall asleep on the couch.

-

A few hours later, there was movement in his home. He tensed up when it happened and went on high alert. On instinct, he went for the knife under his pillow but it wasn't there.

Mystery man was staring at him. Giant black eyes staring deep into him. Feral.

"Where the fuck did you put it?" Mystery man moved so fast, pouncing on him, using his thighs to pin him down. His hands grabbed Ghost's wrists so he couldn't attack him.

He was still naked.

Ghost kept his eyes trained on his eyes, not wanting to look down and be a perv.

Was it technically pervy if this guy jumped on him?

"Where is my coat?" He bared his teeth.

Ghost's eyes widened, seeing the set of seal teeth. The eyes.

"What the fuck are you?"

Mystery man snapped at him, ready to sink his teeth in to him, and then winced right as Ghost felt the warm blood hit his stomach. With practiced ease, he flipped them around, pinning him down now. He then stood up and got some more bandages. "You ripped your stitches. Stay right there."

Silence followed as Ghost restitched him and put more bandages on him. Once he was sure he wouldn't bleed out again, he pressed him down on the couch. Mystery man looked up at him, something fierce and wild in his expression. He looked beautiful honestly. In a frightening way. Like an angel.

"What are you?"

He snarled at him but looked down at where Ghost's hand was pressed to his chest to keep him down. His hand dwarfed his chest. It made the situation a lot less tense. Both of them believing they could definitely kick the other's ass.

"Selkie."

"The fuck is that?"

"Sometimes I'm a seal. Sometimes I'm a person." He explained, slowly relaxing more. "Where is my coat?"

Ghost realized this person was certified insane. Though he did see the dark eyes and seal teeth, though maybe they both were. "I cleaned it."

"Cleaned it?"

Ghost nodded. "Yeah. I washed it since it was bloody. You're going to need to stay here for a bit. You'll need to heal some more or you'll rip those stitches and bleed out. No jumping around either."

He frowned but seemed more content now.

He was still fucking naked.

Ghost grimaced. "What's your name?"

"Soap."

"Soap?"

"That's what the people up the street call me."

Ghost thought about the fact that there was not another house for about twenty miles and decided to ignore that. "Just relax. I'll find you some clothes?"

"Why?"

Ghost wrinkled his nose at him and went to his bedroom. He found a few things and looked up, freezing.

his face.

He hadn't been wearing his mask last night. Why would he? It was cold, but not that cold and there was no one for miles.

This guy had seen his face. And while yes, he had seen this man's... everything, his face was an intimate affair.

If he put the mask on now, it would cause even more questions and problems. If he didn't, the man would still be looking at him.

Then the man was there.

"I ripped my stitches again."

"Fucking hell."

-

Once Soap was bandaged, dressed and back in his coat, he was more than happy to take up Ghost's entire couch, body spread out and branching. The coat hugged him perfectly. A glove made for him.

His bright blue eyes were staring at him. Ghost had to stare and try to remember if they were blue before as well. They fit his face. Bright blue eyes with tan skin and pretty features. Not delicate by any means. Strong jaw and nose. But definitely pretty.

"So, Ghost." Soap started to speak, glancing at where Ghost was cooking for them in the kitchen. "Why are you here?"

"I run the lighthouse."

"The big tower with the light on it?" Soap sat up curiously, tilting his head.

Ghost nodded. "That's the one."

Soap hummed. "Always wonder what that did." He put his head on the back of the couch, staring at Ghost with his pretty blue eyes and dark eyelashes.

"Helps boats know where the shore is."

Soap hummed in response and continued to watch.

Ghost brought him food, watching Soap start to shovel it in his mouth with his hands. "Do you not know how to use a fork?"

Soap snapped at him and Ghost let it go.

-

Ghost watched his progress with great interest. Soap's wounds healed faster than the average person and it healed cleaner. It was still a slow process though so he had to watch carefully. He never slipped the mask back on. Maybe he should’ve. It would be smarter too.

Soap noticed the masks but he never said anything. He never passed judgement on Ghost’s quirks. His giant blue eyes peered at him all the time. Absorbing him. It was odd, being the one watched. Though, he did watch him back.

They got into long staring contests which were tons of fun for him. It was calming. Weirdly. Soap was much like the ocean he came from. Unsettling and eerie and beautiful. Especially the eyes.

Ghost did research, trying to find out if maybe selkies had an effect like this. Instead he just found dozens and dozens of things about their coats.

He didn’t touch the thing. It looked soft. But it made him nervous in a weird way. Like he’d make it dirty. Didn’t help that Soap went from civil human to snarling animal if he glanced at it. Big black eyes ready to rip him to shreds.

Soap never truly scared him. Unsettled, sure. But Ghost was pretty sure he could take him.

Pretty sure.

Soap was complaining again. Maybe horrid noises as he rolled around the floor.

“I could help if I knew what was wrong.”

“Dirty.”

“You want a bath?”

Soap paused his writhing to consider. “Yes. I would like... a bath."

Ghost nodded and fixed it for him. He made it cold. For some reason it felt right to do so.

Soap sank deep into the water and looked very happy. It made Ghost feel calmer. Big black eyes stared at him from the water.

He had seen them before. While out on the beach, he had seen those eyes staring at him.

A predator from the depths. Maybe like cats and wolves, this predator could be tamed as well.

Ghost grabbed the shampoo and started to wash Soap's hair, enjoying the softness of the strands. He used nicer shampoo for the smell so he hoped it was okay. With how Soap's was styled, he assumed he took pride in his hair.

Soap relaxed into the freezing water, humming. "A little warm for my taste."

"Should I put ice in it?"

"That sounds good."

So Ghost poured ice in the bathtub. He started to wonder what this was. If maybe he had finally killed himself and this was some weird purgatory. Or maybe it had been so long since he had a conversation that he was imagining this. What if he had a wild seal in his home?

Ghost decided this was a path he didn't want to travel. He could live with not knowing.

Soap relaxed and his eyes went back to the nice blue.

-

Ghost took his bed back after the third night. Soap stayed on the couch. He was still healing and outside of when he wanted to be dramatic, he rarely moved.

Ghost cooked for them every morning and night before going to check on the lighthouse. He did his normal duties and then came home in record time every day.

Soap was always doing… something. Usually staring out the window at the ocean or biting at his pillows or laying dramatically on the floor like a broken doll. Ghost would sit with him and they’d talk.

They sat there for a few minutes before Soap looked at him. Dark eyes staring into him again. Shredding him. Making a place inside of him that only Soap could squirm into.

"If you died, you think you'd go to Valhalla?"

"Valhalla is for people who die fighting."

"Are you not fighting now?" Soap asked him and smiled. It was impish. Like he had secret Ghost wasn't getting.

Ghost frowned. "No. I'm not fighting now."

Soap grabbed Ghost's hand, comparing their hand sizes. "So what are we eating tonight? Fish again?"

"Yeah, I can make more fish." Ghost glanced at him, watching his mouth.

"Thank you." Soap batted his eyelashes at him and smiled softly.

They fell in sync so easily. Ghost cooking and Soap by his side to watch it. If it weren't for Ghost, he'd eat the fish raw, but it was impolite to do so in the house.

Soap licked over his teeth. Giant things. Sharp.

Ghost thought of what it would be like to feel them pierce his throat.

-

Ghost wasn't sleeping. He laid down and just stared at the ceiling.

Soap had healed. He could leave now. Maybe that's what kept Ghost up. Or maybe it was the fact that Soap was clearly moving.

The door creaked open and Soap stepped in. He didn't speak, just found where the bed was in the dark. Slowly, he got on the bed next to him and then moved on top of him, straddling him.

"My name, when I played human, was Johnny."

"My name was Simon."

It felt inevitable. The way their lips brushed against each other. Pressed soft but insistent. Intent on devouring each other.

"Simon." Johnny said softly. "First human I've met than I've liked."

"Thank you." Ghost felt honored weirdly enough. He pulled him closer to kiss him more.

Johnny's mouth traveled down his jaw and to his throat. Simon relaxed, waiting for the sting. For the inevitable death. He'd welcome it like a lover. Like Johnny.

Instead it was only soft kisses. Trailing and claiming. Spiraling around. Fingertips searching each other in the dark.

Johnny moved and slowly undid the tie on Ghost's pants. "I want to give my gratitude."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Want you to touch me."

This was Valhalla. Or maybe that purgatory he feared. Scars all over his body ached as he reached for Johnny's face, cupping him. "Johnny."

"Simon..." He breathed against him.

Their mouths stayed close, breathing in each other's air as they moved against each other. It was slow and aching and it made Ghost want to take Johnny's coat and mix them together in the sheets. To never let him leave and stay there for eternity, breathing each other in.

He'd never. Johnny finally sank his teeth into him. Into his shoulder. Ghost groaned and grabbed on to him. Johnny's hands. They dragged him under.

It had been so long since he had been touched. He felt undone by Johnny. Simon tried to reciprocate, to make Johnny feel just as good.

Until they were both wrecked and panting and sinking into the bed.

Johnny clawed at him and buried his face in his neck. He kept him pinned down so his hands could go over Simon's body.

The touch was heavenly. It felt like it was burning him.

Simon held him close.

"Are you going to disappear in the morning?"

"Do you want me to?"

Simon held him closer, fingers going through the fur of his coat. "No. God no."

[onelocket]

eyes on the board, milaya Fyodor D. x reader

prompting guide -- Suddenly, your vision comes to reality when you could only see him smiling at you across the classroom. “Focus.” He words out.

involves -- high school au, not 100% proofread

Afternoon classes were already done and dusted. Your sleepy eyes nagged you the whole last three periods of subjects as you forced yourself to keep it rolling, determined to finish today to just jump right to bed and shove your tired body in a warm blanket.

The mere thought of hugging a soft mattress as it releases said exhaustion away sounded and even felt comforting right now.

Ah, how your mind would love to doze off in a state of dopiness — away from responsibilities, away from life…

So why were you here instead?

“... Jeez..” You sigh, noise hardly distant from an escaping breath. As you tap your fingernails onto your wooden desk, your eyes deny to blink — afraid they'd fall defeat into a slumber in front of class.

Turns out, your little daydream just now was just a daydream.

In reality you still had this last class to sort out — which was mordantly the one you had the least interest in.

But at the same time, how could you skip class? This was the last above all your previous ones today; plus, you weren't going to be sure when your teacher would suddenly say this random lesson will be part of the upcoming exams, so you needed to attend. Even if you were painfully lacking the needed sleep.

“(Name),” The classmate next to your seat suddenly murmured, head turned to you with an on edge smile as if your solemnness affected her greater than it would to you. “If you’re planning to sleep, go ditch class by faking to use the bathroom or something…” she said, clearly irritated.

You let out an inaudible grunt at the displeasing behavior, placing both of your arms on your empty desk. Normally would you have your notebook out, but you were too tired to even write a word in such sheets.

“How does it bother you?” You whisper back, almost equally to even more pissed.

“Because we’re next to each other.” She clicks her tongue to, tapping her pen rather aggressively; yet effortlessly also being able to keep its quiet to avoid the teachers head turning.

And you swore even a simple yawn could get the teacher pointing at the said student. Not even a pen could counter it?

“And?” You nearly snarled, arms crossing each other even pressed against the desk. “It’ll rag attention!” She exclaimed loudly with her leaning to you — which ultimately grabs the class.

“Excuse me?” The teacher was quick to press on, head already turned to the class. “What will ‘rag’ attention, exactly?” They add with a rather rough tone before turning their whole body to the front, making the atmosphere drop.

Not that this teacher is rude, they were just… uncomfortable to see when mad.

“Ah- teacher..” Your classmate gasped out, her grip on the pen tightening as it deemed noticeable in your view.

But before you just sit there dumbfoundedly and admit what you knew she'd blurt to the whole class, you pick up a plan.

Leaning down a little to your desks shelf, you made sure to be slow with your moments as you grab a small purple notebook. Such notebook wasn't for this class — rather one where you draw mindless, silly doodles and write pent up rants to in school. But that won't be a problem.

If she was going to blame you, might as well pack up a lie to reduce twice a scolding in your ears.

With the corner of your eye did you notice your classmate progressively get provoked, practically growling at this point as you blench at the thought. She exclaims as she slaps her hand on the desk, “Teacher, this person beside me was about to fall asleep! In your own class.”

And while it did get you stares, you force your head to stay up and confident as you extend your fingers to let the other page of your notebook fall down, making sure it was on the ‘right’ page. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

It was filled with words you were so sure belonged to another topic and another subject, but nobody would know that.

“You— you were literally about to rest your head on your arms.” She says, in disbelief.

And you fight back with a tilt of your head, “I was grabbing this notebook, didn’t you see?”

“…You two, stop fighting.” Your teacher dismissed, a tired sigh trying to ease the stress; although failing as they raise their voice for all to hear, “Did any of you two see (Name) and are able to confirm their claim?” finishing before nodding their head at your classmate. “Or maybe hers.”

Silence suddenly dulled to reek the tension in your classroom. Your other hidden fist on your lap clenches itself as you hold back an annoyed noise, praying your gaze isn’t caught a glare. Even though it deliberately is one.

You didn’t exactly think anyone would vouch for you, nor would you think anyone would back up her claim. So you just sat there irritated, as so did she, her grip on her own pen in at threaten to snap it in half.

Besides, who would even want to stare at you in such hour? This was the last class of today, and everyone must be dying to call it quits and do their own thing just as you want to, right? Neither did you see yourself as one worthy to be the center of attention.

As your mind runs it’s words around with your expression painfully trying to be blank, a student who was sat on the first few rows of the class was looking intently at you.

More than the rest ever cared to.

Strands of his black hair would fall on his face as he makes a subtle tilt, eyes obscure.

They looked as tired as yours, but with how he was such a smart prodigy it’d be unlikely that his look of debility was out of need to sleep as well.

The more he stared at you in such way, the more did students pick up on it. A few swiftly nudged their friends to realize the situation, and without you even knowing, the tension grew heavier.

“Is nobody going to speak?” The teacher slits through the silence like a knife, “Then, with the lack of evidence in you twos contrasting stories- I’ll take the both of you to the office to properly sort this out.” already demanding a situation you loathed to deal with right now — that visible in your eyes the second you hear those words.

But before you nor your classmate could talk to bicker,

“I saw, teacher. (Name) was simply unhurried with their actions.” a heavy Russian accent counters through.

You find your hand slipping away from its contact on your notebook as you mouth out a gasp, eyes blinking their way to look back up at the male you hear speaking.

Though, your shock would fall into one out of relief once seeing who it was.

“Oh. Is that so…” Your teacher formed, seemingly not taken in yet by the affirm. “Mhm.” Your boyfriend — Fyodor, nods to, head turning to your teacher. “I felt something on my back, so I turned my head around to also brush my hair out of the way in case such so was the source of the itchy feeling.”

…What,

“I saw (Name) as I turned, and they were simply grabbing their notebook as she seemed to be talking to them. (Name) wasn't replying to them at all.”

What is he even saying…?

And how did it look so easy? For him to say all those things so suddenly? It's like he planned them out.

The words he explained was clearly, to you, a blatant lie. Yet you found your heart instead captivated at his effort. His voice was so soft and soothing, that accent pretty much grasping your wariness to a trash bin.

Not only did it loop you around — so did it do the same to your other classmates. Though… perhaps in a different way.

You could practically feel the weight of such uncomfortable tension swim back to a lower ground, yet rather than sparkling eyes you could only see looks out of one; or rather many, intimidated.

His voice perhaps did sound a little rougher, however you were unable to pick up on it right away since how long have you wanted to hear his voice since this period started.

But it shouldn’t really be that contrasting to hear him like that. Or perhaps it the unique accent that still threw them off-guard... it's been so long since Dostoevsky got his scholarship to your school, yet its as if their fright wouldn't agree to it.

You almost found yourself special for being the only one so accepting of him without any lie of emotion hidden within.

“Very well..” The teacher says, struggling to hide its reluctance before they cleared their throat; “I’ll still need to talk to you about this manner,” staring at your classmate before turning back to you — “but (Name), there’s no need to join the conversation unless there is something you’d like to be shared. In such case however, it’d be nice to say it now.”

“What the.. why just me?” Your classmate pressed, frustration clear in her face yet stayed sat on her desk. “Dostoevsky here hinted that you initiated the conversation.” The teacher replied, voice stern at her.

“… Please, teacher. There’s little to no reason to be so formal at your student. You call your other students by their first name, aren’t I right?” Fyodor spoke again, tilting his head a little to the teacher.

You see it visibly take the older person off-guard, as if Fyodor was some villain to be locked up to. Was it the voice.. no, you shouldn’t always think about his voice- well, as much as you personally liked hearing it. Was your teacher also still so intimidated?

But still… why react so violently? You couldn’t help but think, the palm of a hand resting on your chin as you watched the conversation, ignoring your angry classmate.

“Why.. well, sorry Fyodor. I'm just extremely stressed.” They make up with, which was honestly horrible. To who falls for that reeks with naivety — Even you knew your boyfriend would laugh at that reply.

But you also knew he wouldn’t show it, remaining polite to the teacher as he simply nodded it out, leaving the classroom quiet again.

As if you thought things were forming into a better shape, that decision made todays period even worse.

You softly grunt, and albeit you were safe from the scolding, you still technically got one right now. Without Fyodor in class, worser things would’ve happened. And your mind didn’t want to comprehend it.

Your eyes narrow as your head came back to the blackboard, your teachers continuation of blabber slowly turning muffled in your ears as you stared at your boyfriend. Though your teacher took quite the awkward approach with continuing the lesson, you had to admit.

Setting aside the thought, your head started to drown in your back and forth questions as you pondered on how to thank Fyodor later. Speaking like that and spewing out a lie so quickly must’ve been so difficult to find reason to actually act on.

It being ‘hard’ wouldn’t really match the description — you’ve seen your lover do and speak many things you knew yourself would never lift a finger to, so now only made you wonder why he did it.

Of course, it could just be out of love for you, but to have Fyodor keen onto a simple motivation as that sounded off. To lie in front of the class without even being sure that it’d work? What if another student was watching you and counterattacked his lie with a fact..

Suddenly, your vision comes to reality when you could only see him looking at you across the classroom.

“Focus.” He words out, his purple eyes boring into yours.

But for some reason, you didn’t find it intimidating. They felt… concerned for you.

No- concerned would be an overstatement. It would be.

Yet you can’t push back the thought of him worried for you either.

You smile at him, head tilting a little to your palm. You reply back with your own mouth forming a silent word, “Sorry.” earning a small smile from him before he turns his head to the board, your head jolting to follow it.

You still failed to actually understand a word of what your teacher meant, but to see your loving boyfriend, Fyodor, all so focused and noting down with such effortless charm kept you glued to the front of the class.

To see Fyodor was all there mostly was to it, who you didn’t share a lot of subject periods with. Even if you had the most valid reason to skip this class, you'd stay just to see his back even if what came with it was… oh, right — thousands of words and whatnot in front of the board you had yet to note down.

“…How annoying.” You grumble quietly, placing your arm down as your other hand held onto your pen, tip aimed at the paper. You lied earlier to get away from punishment, so you now had to act like it. You had to have your eyes on the board,

“Milaya.”

Your body jolts at the sudden call, head immediately tilting up to see the man you love to be in front of you. He was smiling softly with his hands on your desk, an expression you'd melt for over and over again.

“…Um, y-yeah Fyodor?” You reply, a sheepish smile on your face. “I’m sorry. I zoned out a little.”

Before you even knew it, classes were over. Perhaps it was the sudden attack of motivation that made time feel quick, but in the end you were glad all's done.

And luckily did you not have to deal with a trip to the office unlike some unlucky girl.. really, what was her problem?

“Are you that tired?” He sighed out, tapping a finger on your desk. “Class is over. You’re not in charge of cleaning today, correct?”

“Yeah.” You reply, your shamefaced smile turning into a calmer one now.

Actually, since you did think about it, perhaps now would be a good time to thank him. Not like it’d be appropriate to say thank you tomorrow when he clearly helped you out today.

“Actually, Fedya..” So you whisper, hoping nobody heard your nickname for him in wishes not to embarrass him. “May we walk home together today?” You engage to, hoping that time to properly thank him.

“Of course, (Name).” He replied, a finger brushing your hair off your face with that same smile. “Grab your stuff now, we can’t stay in this classroom forever while they clean.”

“Oh- right!” You heaved out, head immediately down to look at your notebook. Quickly did you do as told, practically sliding your bag to your shoulder as you stood up, Fyodor beside you silently.

You didn’t have time to put your notebook inside, so you just held onto it as you two exited the room. He didn’t seem to mind either — although you two end up sharing a hand in hand as you walked the corridors, not that secretive of the relationship, however not so loud about it either.

Simple public display of affections like these in school warmed your heart, and you hoped his did too.

As you two walk with a comforting silence shared, a loud, masculine voice rings through the hallway as sounds of shoes clicked closer and closer to you two. And of course, it’d be nobody else than..

“Ah, Nikolai.” Fyodor greeted with a tiny tilt of his head before tilting it back with a smile. “What brings?”

“Mmhm, hi- I need to borrow you for a second.” Nikolai replied rather excitedly as if holding back his impatience, his larger hands immediately flying up to hold one of your boyfriends.

You take the hint and let go of Fyodor’s hand, to which, you see the same hand twitch in reply, but nonetheless find nothing else to take notice of.

“Oh! Right, (Name)!” Nikolai suddenly says with the surprise evident in his voice, as if he didn’t see you. Well, you knew that’s not exactly what he’d think of, but still.. he’s rather, jumpy about something, isn’t he?

“Y-yes Nikolai?” You reply hurriedly, a smile covering your confusion as you press your notebook closer to your chest.

“May I borrow your lovely boyfriend for a sec? Pretty please?” He scoots closer to you as he spoke, beseech and solicit tones apparent in his voice. You let out a fake, helpless sigh, shrugging a little. “Not my choice to make. It’s his.”

“Aw. You know he barely says no to you.” He sighed with a small pout as if defeated. “My chances are less now..” He sulked out whilst you and Fyodor find each other chuckling, Fyodor talking back however. “Please. If it’s so important that it made you run to us, where’s the room to decline?”

“Aha- I knew that'd get you!” Nikolai applauds to with a galvanizing turn of his head to your lover, a smirk crystal-clear of mischief, but you did not dare to question. Besides, you knew this man for his tease and joke, and you presumed Fyodor did too. Well, they are close after all.

“Come, come; it won't take you long~” The taller boy releases his grip on Fyodor's hand, a calm expression on said guy as if he was used to that cheeky look on Nikolai's face with that gesturing motion to follow him. Fyodor gave a nod to Nikolai as he hummed, however turning his head to you.

“Milaya. If it's about what I did earlier, then don't wait for me. There is no need,” Fyodor tells you, leaning in to press a soft kiss on the edge of your lip.

The second his lips met your skin felt like you reading his cute little love letters to you — short, sweet and anticipatingly taunting. Taunting to your poor little heart as it easily flusters from it.

You give your lover a quiet laugh as he leans back, Nikolai staring at you two without a word, just a smile you couldn't read.

You wanted to say something, but would it really be fine to flirt in front of his best friend? Said dude would name you two as cheesy love doves, you knew.

So you simply nod before giving a small wave, Nikolai taking that sign as to grab Fyodor's hand and walk the opposite direction of the hallway. Fyodor turns around as he walked, replying to you with a small smile before he completely allows the well-known school clown to take him away, leaving you stood there.

“...He knows what he's doing.” You finally sigh out with your stiff shoulders relaxing, to which you actually never realized of them being that way. That kiss, albeit sweet, told you a lot, you knew your lover knew this mark.

So rather than leaving as he 'claims' he wanted you to do, you find your heel turning around and almost scurrying somewhere else — where, might that be?

Why, another classroom.

It was still in the same floor, only difference is that this was an old club room which was now empty; given how no new club proposition took this space.

Of course, it was advised by the teachers not to use this room so often. While it was open, it's not a free space for 'you folks'. You still couldn't help but giggle at the remembrance of that one teacher calling you and the students such a term, especially with his accent. Ridiculous, you thought.

But this was also the only room you can go to. Those who were in charge of cleaning must still be doing their task.

You almost lazily sit on the chair which was already set up, desk to accompany it. Somebody must've also broken the rule of not hanging out here, yet that doesn't bother you right now. Putting your bag to the side of the chair, you put down your purple notebook on the wooden desk as you pout, staring at the empty cover.

“Telling me not to wait for you... am I not your partner to have the right?” You ask, pretending as if the notebook was him. Well, the purple hue did match his eyes. And he didn't deserve the light scolding, so you just threw it on some inanimate object.

Sliding your arm down on the desk did your hand swing around on the opposite side, your cheek leans down to press on the crook of your elbow as you yawn quietly, eyes still on the cover.

But the sight of something green catches your eye.

A little brighter because of the afternoon light shining through those open windows, but definitely green nonetheless. And it was none other than the blackboard in front of the classroom — a few walks away from you.

“Mm, what would've happened if I still had the energy to focus earlier?” You mutter to yourself, eyes focused on the dry paint. “I mean.. would I have heard him back up for me? That was still really kind of him.”

Yet the lack of people in the room left you to simply stare. The longer you stared, the more your eyes wanted to tease you too — as if replaying a sight of your teacher nudging nonsense and writing so loudly on the board. But of course, since you weren't focusing half of the lesson, you couldn't remember what was actually written on it.

You probably should head home by now... but you also couldn't shake off the thought of walking home with Fyodor. Of course were there some days you two have to leave alone, but that kiss really got you clingy.

“I knew you'd be here.” Suddenly, a soft, almost gentle voice whispers behind you, as if behind your ear.

You immediately turn your head at this — eyes a little wide before you took realization to who it was. Thankfully, it was just Fyodor.

Your head makes a quick turn, seeing his bag already beside yours and classroom doors suddenly shut. You didn't even hear noise shuffle around... how did he get here so quietly? Alas, he ends up grabbing a seat to sit in front of you as you just watch, lifting your head up.

“And how would you know? You probably checked every classroom in this floor.” You joke out, smiling at your lover as he returns it. “If that's how you'd like to put it.” He replied, leaning in. “Really, did you want to walk home with me that eagerly?”

“Well, you know I always do.” You say as you push your seat away, earning you enough space to stand up. Before he makes the move you knew he'd do, you slide your notebook swiftly on the shelf under the desk, not wanting him to see the little doodles of his back that you drew to find some solace in these sleepy classes.

“I apologize then, milaya.” Fyodor whispers, his eyes following your move as you find yourself sitting on the desk, in front of him. A chuckle leaves his lips as he tilts his head, however not muttering a word as you shift around, making sure your legs didn't hit him.

“Yeah, do apologize.” You sigh out, although intent lighthearted and playful as you lean in, pressing your fingers on his silky black hair. You take his loving gaze as consent as you play with his hair, both of you exchanging a warm smile.

“But do enlighten me, (Name). Just what was on your notebook?”

“Oh. I didn't think you'd ask...” A peachy paint on your cheeks as your eyebrows furrow.

You weren't mad of course, and to be fair — if the positions would switch, you'd ask the same thing. Fyodor hums, “That notebook must be important, right? If you do not wish to tell, that is fine as well.”

“Ah, not exactly.” You pucker your lips to for a fleeting moment, keeping your affectionate stare. You twirl a strand of his hair, tilting your head. “It's just a little embarrassing. I wouldn't call it some sort of sketching notebook, but it's just mostly filled with drawings of your back.”

“Why my back, milaya?”

“Because that's all I see in class.” You pout out.

“...Adorable.” He replied with a sweeter smile, as if holding back a giggle. “Come here,” Fyodor coos, his hands meeting your hips to slowly, almost a little too slowly guide you to fall down on the desk to sit on his lap.

You comply, however a little startled at first. You never took him to be the kind to want public displays of affection.. neither did you ask about it though, so maybe you were wrong?

“If you be good next time and focus in class, I'll let you borrow me from my studying to be your reference as much as you'd like.” Fyodor whispers with his one hand meeting your cheek, caressing it lightly.

“Really?” You ask a bit excitedly, hands pressed on his shoulders. He had to admit to himself, the sight was really adorable. Some of your hair fell on your face, and you held onto him like you two weren't inside a classroom. “I said only if you're good.” He tuts.

“You tease.” You huff out, cheeks puffing a little to decorate. Fyodor hummed, “You accept every last one of it though, don't you?” resulting in you rolling your eyes and lean in to press a kiss on his lips.

The seconds feel like minutes as your lips met, Fyodor moving his hands to carefully wrap on your waist as the afternoon sky radiates on each of yours skin, eyes shut and simply indulging in the moment.

Yet to surprise, it is you who pulls away first.

You take this moment to stay where you're positioned at and look down at his face, which had a very soft, subtle light of red. You found it endearing. Perhaps your actions also moved his heart more than you'd assume.

You wanted to say something, but before you could even voice out a word from your open lips — he surprises you with a lean in, peppering kisses all over your cheeks. It made you dumbfounded for a good moment, the blush on your face never failing to escape now as you press your own hand on his cheek, softly giggling like his lips tickle.

“Hey... what are you doing, Fedya?” You coo, soft exhales leaving you at the feeling of amenity from his kisses. Barely does he initiate it, which led you to easily melt whenever he does. You could feel his lips meet a smile as he kept kissing your soft skin, “I wasn't done kissing you yet.” to which only caught you to melt even more.

“You really don't have to try being this cute, don't you...” You mutter out before silently sitting there on his lap, closing your eyes while you drink in his love.

Eventually did you wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him more room for you to kiss as a sight suddenly clicks to you.

The corner of your eye would catch the girl who tried to wreck chaos to you earlier, seemingly walking after a trip to the office. You couldn't catch her expression, but you just knew she was pissed.

Minutes had already passed since the allotted school dismissal anyway. Not many students were around anymore. She could've left school early if she just didn't bother with your own issue.

You didn't want to stop his kisses, but seeing her made you had to with a gentle pat. He takes the note and stops, however still holding you.

“What's wrong?” Fyodor asks, earning a turn of your head. “Oh... just saw 'her'. She still really annoys me.” You grunt out quietly like an angry kid, looking down as he finds it cute with a laugh.

At least, you would've thought so.

“Did she irritate you that much? My, sweet milaya — I say you should give her less weight she might feel on her shoulders.” Fyodor suddenly remarks, making you feel a little puzzled. Why was your own boyfriend on her side?

Your eyebrows furrow, “Hey, if you thought your guessing lie was wrong, you were right you know? She talked to me first.” backing up your situation with a frown. Your head moves to look at him as he smiled, one hand petting your soft hair. “It wasn't a guess, milaya. I knew she likely talked to you first.”

“Huh.. how come?” You question, “Do you know her?” a bit of jealousy seeping in your head.

The look you briefly had on was cute. It made him even more satisfied.

“No. The only thing I know about her is that I set up a few things throughout her day today, just to make her all irritated and get her angry at the smallest of things. An example answered my bet in luck by you feeling sleepy this afternoon.”

...Huh??

“..Wait- Fedya, what?” You mutter through a confused expression, “You... why did you do all of that?”

“Mm, don't worry. They were all harmless, and she's physically untouched by such schemes.” Fyodor explains further as if you asked him to, tilting his own head a little. “And I did that... because I wanted your embrace, milaya.”

Your embrace? But he's already getting it right now.

“Am I not giving you such so?” You end up asking, fingers tapping on his shoulder. “And besides, isn't us holding hands already an embrace? As you take me home?”

“My. I foresaw a lot of things, but not your endless questions.” He sighed out, one hand grabbing onto one of your own to press a gentle, almost teasing kiss that led your shoulders to shiver. “I'll be honest with you, do you think we truly get enough time for ourselves when we walk home?”

“When we...” You trail out, your own head following to find an answer to his question.

While it is true you two hold hands throughout the walk, and how you'd give him puppy-like kisses as he leaves you to your doorstep like the gentleman he is — Fyodor is kind of right. He doesn't always get to hang out at your home due to his studying, and you both barely show this much affection in school; now being an only exception.

Wait... now being an only exception. So did that mean he planned all of he said just to get you cradling yourself on him?

“...Are you kidding me?” You end up sighing with an amused smile, Fyodor seemingly glad as he also had one smile of a similar nature. You shake your head, squeezing his hand before letting go of it. “All of that, just for us to end up like this?”

“You'll embarrass me if I say so.” He cooed like a sad boy, you laughing as pink switched your peach. “You're smart, Fyodor, but this is proof that too much smarts can be a little too much.”

The two of you were met in a brief silence as you simply stare at him, your intertwined hands staying as so.

You could stay in this moment forever.

“Y'know.. you don't have to plan around if you just want my embrace.” You start whispering, scooting closer to his lap so both of your chests touched. “I know we can't always show this much affection in school, but you involved a random classmate.” Rather than an explanation did your words sound like a scolding, as if Fyodor didn't know that.

He hummed, “Wasn't my only idea, milaya. Nikolai had a part in planning this too,” smirking a little but kept his expression hidden by guiding your head down to his shoulder, allowing him to press his lips on the side of your head.

You comply to his touch, securing your arms better so you were now leaning on your.. new pillow. You couldn't see his face this way, but it was fine.

“And I bet him calling you earlier was a plan to make me feel touch-starved.” You mumble.

“But doesn't this repay it, (Name)? Or is it lacking for you?” Fyodor teased, his voice making sure that you knew. “Oh, whatever. Just ask next time when you want my embrace.”

Silence met your words at first, the soft wind adding more comfort to the secret little situation you two got going on right now.

Fyodor knew you two should really get going by now, but with a simple glance by the school gate with the help of the window beside you two, as long as the guard was still on his phone, perhaps Fyodor can keep indulging himself in your warm touch that he'd been needy for too long.

A soft chuckle amuses itself as he simply replied, “Okay.” leaving the afternoon colors do all the talk for now as he softly squeezes your body, placing another kiss on your hair.

And just like that, you really couldn't get your focus to have your eyes on the board now.

⚘

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

ok.. bagginshield: bodyguard au, bilbo is a paramedic, and has amnesia. PLease i'm BEGGING

Sandy. My dude. I told you I had an idea for this but it became SUCH A BIG THING!! 😮‍💨😍 So I hope you can forgive the late due date with almost 3K of Bagginshield...where I couldn't use Thorin's name! 🤣 So without further ado...

Pairing: Bagginshield

Warning: Blood/Gore-ish

Words: 2638

“Back again, Mr. Baggins?”

Bilbo whirled around to see the nurse at the desk smiling sympathetically at him. It honestly only made Bilbo feel more pathetic as he played with the stems of the flowers he carried. Three days ago, he had done everything he could to help keep a John Doe alive in the back of his ambulance, and still he couldn’t get the comatose patient out of his mind. His cousin, Siggy, was right. He needed help. Or at the very least a vacation.

“You caught me.” He laughed nervously. “No one’s claimed him yet, have they?”

She shook her head sadly. “No, but he did wake up last night briefly! Dr. Greyham is very optimistic about his recovery.”

That was great news. Bilbo certainly hadn’t held much hope when they found him. Bloodied and beaten in an alleyway, responding to a good samaritan call hours after what they presumed to be a mugging. His pulse had been too low, and with the severity of the head wound, Bilbo had been afraid they wouldn’t find much brain activity. If he was in fact waking up though, it did make Bilbo’s visits a bit more awkward. 

“Go on in.” The nurse encouraged. “He may appreciate having someone to talk things out with.”

Bilbo nodded and thanked her as he worked up the courage to enter. His relief was palpable when he saw that the man was still asleep. Just as he had been, Bilbo set his flowers in the vase next to his bed before taking a seat in the visitor’s chair. The man had gorgeous dark hair that was starting to get oily at this point. Bilbo knew he had been subjected to sponge baths for sterilization, but Bilbo mourned the lack of bathing for him. Luckily, they hadn’t had to cut much of his locks when they were stitching his head back together, but there would be a noticeable balding on the right side underneath all of the bandages. Bilbo hoped the man wasn’t too vain about his appearances to pitch a fit at that. Certainly Bilbo has treated plenty who were. The ‘saving their lives’ part falling secondary almost immediately.

Bilbo finally heaved a sigh and pulled his bag of knitting equipment off his shoulder as he settled in for his usual monologue. The first time he had done this, he had felt quite silly and was afraid that the man would wake up at any time to tell him off. However, he has come to find it almost therapeutic, talking to someone who can only listen. 

“Well, Mr. Oakenshield. Not much to add on today. I finally got the last of those stubborn weeds out of my vegetable planter. Only I fear they will just return in a few days. With the rain we’ve been having lately, I wouldn’t expect anything less. You might be pleased to know that Detective Inspector Bard is looking into your case, but has yet to come up with any definite answers to who hurt you. Well, maybe he has. It’s not like I’m privy to police investigations after all. And well, let’s just look at your chart here…oh this is promising! 

Dr. Greyham says that you are showing massive improvement. If you can ever finally pull away from this nasty coma, you shouldn’t expect any lasting damage. That’s quite lucky. Just last week my partner and I responded to a man who had gotten himself crushed under an air conditioning unit and…well I’ll spare you the gory details. Let’s just say that he won’t quite have the motor functions he used to.

I can imagine this is very good news to you. I’m mean, I’d hate to assume, but I’d imagine you enjoy spending time at the gym. After all, nobody your age looks like…that is to say you’re very…oh what the hell, you’re probably about the fittest person I know Mr. Oakenshield. Of course, even though Theo and Hamfast and Siggy all think that’s why I keep coming to visit you, it’s not. You see I’d quite hate for anyone to wake up alone after an ordeal like yours. I’d do it for…any John Doe you see, but I must admit there is something about you that I’m quite…AHH!”

Bilbo jumped out of his chair, dropping his knitting on the bed, as he backed up with a hand over his heart. The man blinked his drowsy, but confused bright blue eyes at Bilbo as if trying to make sense of him.

“I’m so…so terribly sorry.” Bilbo explained breathlessly. “This must all be rather confusing. Let me introduce myself. I’m Bilbo Baggins, I’m the paramedic who worked on you after we found you in that alley.”

“Alley?” The man repeated roughly as if the word were foreign to him.

“Um, yes. Let me just call your doctor real quick.”

Bilbo moved to press the ‘assistance’ button above the man’s head, when his hand snaked out to grab Bilbo’s arm. He felt himself gasp, both at the speed of the reflex and the tightness of his grip. No loss of motor skills, that was for certain. The man mumbled something to him, but it was in a completely different language. Bilbo felt his heart sink. He hadn’t accounted for this. The man was a tourist? That might explain why no one had come for him yet. The only problem was Bilbo was quite sure he didn’t speak whatever language the man was muttering in as it wasn’t Westron and certainly not Sindrian.

“I don’t…understand.” He breathed slowly. “Can you…understand me?”

The man furrowed his brows together before he slowly nodded his head. That was good! He was bilingual at least. Bilbo thought it was best to start with the basics.

“Can you tell me your name?”

The man opened his mouth only to close it and open it once more. After that, a look of horror crossed his face, and Bilbo’s attention was grabbed by the spiking heart monitor.

“No, no! It’s okay.” Bilbo rushed. “This is totally common for an injury like yours.”

Instincts took over, and Bilbo grabbed his hand in comfort as he slowly tilted his chin towards him looking for signs of a concussion. His pupils were certainly dilated and when Bilbo asked him to follow his finger around, it definitely seemed conclusive. Concussions and short term amnesia would be common with this type of injury.

“We’re going to start slow. You don’t remember your name right now, and that’s okay. What do you remember?”

The man took a deep breath as his eyes turned towards the ceiling. Before he could say a word though, there was a knock at the door. It didn’t seem unusual until Bilbo’s gaze fell upon the dry erase board next to the door. The John Doe wasn’t due for check-up for another hour, and Bilbo’s finger never made it to the assist button. Bilbo got up cautiously when his arm was grabbed again, but this time the man’s eyes were wide with panic.

“I remember someone was trying to kill me.”

Cold seeped into Bilbo’s chest as his heart thumped along to the adrenaline surging through him. Bilbo barely had a chance to say anything when the door was forced open. After that, it was like a scene from an action movie. Bilbo was thrown over to the other side of the bed as gunshots rang through the room. Cutting through the mattress that had previously been occupied. Bilbo instinctively covered his head, screaming over the noise, managing to wrench his eyes open just enough to check on the other man. What he saw, stunned him to silence. 

The man was calculated, calm, and seemed to be running off pure muscle memory as his eyes remained wild and afraid. When the gunfire stopped for a moment, the man leapt into action. Taking one of Bilbo’s knitting needles, he shoved it through the throat of the assailant reloading his pistol, using him as a human shield against the second one as he barreled into him. Using his own gun to shoot him in the head. In seconds, Bilbo had gone from thinking he was certainly going to die, to staring at two gruesomely murdered bodies. The man certainly wasn’t done there. He poked his head out into the hallway only to curse and close and lock the door. He looked through the pockets of the dead men on the floor for another clip that he loaded into the gun in his hand with an ease that made Bilbo realize he was dealing with some sort of professional.

“Clothes.” He barked.

Bilbo raised his hands above his head slowly. “C-Clothes?” He repeated.

The man growled before pulling at his hospital gown with impatience.

“My clothes?”

Bilbo pointed at the cabinet behind him. As soon as the man spun around, Bilbo made a mad dash for the door. Before he could reach it, he was pushed up against the wall and held there by the deranged man.

“There are three more out in the hallway ready to kill the first thing that comes through that door. Do you want that to be you?”

Bilbo shook his head rapidly.

“Then help me get out of here.”

“Who are you?” Bilbo gasped after he was released.

The man had his back turned to him as he stripped down to nothing pulling on his bloodied and torn clothing from days ago.

“I don’t remember.” He grumbled. 

“So how do I know I can trust you?”

“Considering the ease I just killed those guys, if I wanted you dead, I would have already done it.”

That was a rather grim, but valid point. 

“Let me ask you something. Earlier, when you thought I was still asleep, you called me ‘Oakenshield’. Why?”

Bilbo could feel his mouth go dry at the question before pointing to the pin on the man’s chest. It seemed to be a coat of arms; only one of the symbols on the shield was an acorn. The man looked down at it as well, his face betraying some amusement. However, he didn’t deign commenting on it as he moved towards the pocket door that was shared between rooms. 

“Don’t you think they’ll be waiting for you?” Bilbo asked.

“Only one way to find out.” The man explained before opening the door, pushing the heart monitor through it, and immediately closing it. 

There was a shout, the sound of feet running towards the room, and more gunshots. The man quickly closed the door again before he or Bilbo could get hit before moving towards the outer door. 

“Go! I’ll cover you.”

Bilbo didn’t have to be told twice as he raced for the stairwell hoping to find safety from this nightmare. He felt the bullets whizzing by before he heard them, and was definitely aware of the man returning fire as he followed after him.

“Only three!?” Bilbo complained throwing himself down the stairs.

“So maybe four!”

They went down a floor, but rather than keep going, the man shoved them into the door for the ER. It was utter chaos as doctors and nurses were trying to secure and placate patients and guests alike. 

“This way.” The man urged, pushing Bilbo through the throng of people trying to get out. 

They found a break room and shoved their way inside. 

“Are we just going to wait here until the police get here?” Bilbo asked hopefully.

He could tell from the stern look he received that was not going to be the case. So what Bilbo was learning was this man had assassin level skills and didn’t trust the police. The situation he found himself in was looking bleaker by the second.

“Paramedic? Right?” The man questioned holding out a jacket with the hospital’s logo on it. 

Bilbo had a sneaking suspicion the plan the man had was going to get him in a heap of trouble. Sure enough, seconds later found him pushing a gurney through ER to the doors on the other side.

“Sir! Just where do you think you’re going?” Bilbo was stopped by a frantic nurse.

Bilbo flashed his ID. 

“Ma’am, this is a comatose patient of Dr. Greyham that can’t be off life support for more than twenty minutes. I’m supposed to get him in a bus and to Tuckborough Medical ASAP. Doctor’s orders.”

She hesitated before nodding, going as far as to call in the ambulance for him. Bilbo was going to have to remember how much he owed the staff at Hobbiton General another time. As soon as Bilbo had the man loaded up, he pulled away the sheet and climbed into the passenger seat next to Bilbo.

“Okay, you gun wielding, knitting needle stabbing manic! I have done everything you asked. I’m most likely going to lose my job for this if they don’t see fit to throw me behind bars. So you better have something you can give me or I’m pulling over at the next police precinct.”

The man grimaced. “I told you. I. Don’t. Remember. I just know they are the bad guys. And they want me dead.”

Bilbo gave a little sarcastic laugh and head tilt. “Oh, great.”

“There is one more thing.”

Bilbo slowly looked over at the man as much as he could without crashing the ambulance.

“It only started to kick in when you called me ‘Oakenshield’, but I was…protecting something…or someone.”

“That’s…vague.” Bilbo complained.

“But this…” The man sighed with impatience before pointing towards the pin on his chest. “Is the clue. It’s the coat of arms for the royal family of Erebor.”

“Erebor?! Like halfway across the world Erebor?”

“Really? Halfway across the world? Where exactly am I?”

Bilbo drew in a shaky breath starting to finally hit the point of ‘too much’. It’s funny. One would think that moment was…oh, about fifteen minutes ago with all the shooting. The other man seemed to realize it as well.

“Look, I’m sorry. You’ve been very kind to me and if you want me to…walk away, I wouldn’t blame you. I just feel like if I’m able to retrace my steps, I’ll find out what was so important it was literally worth dying over.”

“This isn’t a spy movie. You could just be patient and let the healing naturally take over.” Bilbo suggested with a huff.

“Judging by our friends back there, I don’t think I have that kind of time.”

Bilbo looked over at the man one more time. That lost look that has been in his eyes since the moment he woke up was still there. And despite everything he’s seen, everything he’s experienced that should have him running for the hills, Bilbo really wanted to believe him. And help him if he could.

“Alright.” He sighed. “I’ll show you the alley where I picked you up. But after that, I’m done. And if I get picked up and questioned by the cops, I’m telling them the truth!”

“Fair enough.” The man shrugged. “But could you do me one more favor?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Could you stitch this bullet wound in my side?”

Bilbo cursed at the red staining the man’s dark shirt as he pulled over to the side of the road. 

“I expect to be billed for all the times I have to play ‘personal physician’ because I can’t imagine this being the last time.” He complained.

The man let out a roaring laugh that had Bilbo’s cheeks warming all the way to the tips of his ears. This was very not good. It was bad enough when he had a crush on his comatose patient. He had no idea how to handle falling for this bodyguard/assassin/psychopath. Jury was certainly still out on which one he may turn out to be.

[spider-jaysart]

Fandom ask game! ;)

12 & 17

Jon Kent

@pin-crusher2000

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

Hmm, it's not completely Jon centric, but this is one of them that I do think is really funny, besides other humorous ones that I have

One day Vampire!Damian is at a public park late at night feeling all hungry and meets Jon there, who had fallen asleep by mistake, and before Damian could actually kill him for his blood, Jon woke up facing him in fear, causing Damian to instantly fall in love with him at first sight and immediately drop all harmful intentions right there as well. He really wanted to get to know the boy after that, so he introduced himself and flirted with Jon, who was meanwhile freaked out and wondering what was Damian trying to do to him before, but then Jon ran in the middle of the conversation to get away and hit his head on a light pole when not looking, causing himself to pass out on the ground

A security from a nearby center suddenly then came by to check on the park and make sure that it was closed before leaving to home. Damian panicked since he didn't wanna be caught BUT also didn't wanna leave Jon behind either, not wanting to risk that he probably wouldn't be able to find and see him again...so he took him back to the Manor far into the deep woods of Gotham as a solution lmaooo

Jon wakes up there in a nice big comfy bed in Damian's room and is scared. Damian, who had watched over him to make sure he was okay the entire time, tried to calm him, promising no harm, only safety. Turns out that only applied to him though, because the rest of the Batfamily are also blood hungry vampires and are fond of feeding on humans....so Jon was definitely in trouble by being there. He ends up getting found out about by them eventually and Damian won't let the family harm his now beloved, so the boys go on the run together to escape

So it becomes a big adventure with Damian trying to help Jon find his way back to Metropolis after they've gotten too lost from the original path during their run away from the Batfamily, despite him not wanting to really do this deep down. And Jon, even though he doesn't want to, has to depend on Damian for his safety to be protected from all the crazy dangers and other monsters that hide within the many other parts of the woods during their journey, while also dealing with his obvious big crush on him and many annoying (to Jon) attempts to woo him lmaooo

And while stuck together like this, a slow burn happens between them both throughout the story as they get to know eachother more in this messy situation (but that's more on Jon's part, because it just only strengthens Damian's feelings even more instead)

So it's all a very silly, but also very adventurous time. I feel like the concept is definitely way more funny when presented visually in comic form though lol, which I have already made a few of and had posted the first part of on here one time

(also, if it's a little of ooc sounding in some parts for Damian, that's because Talia and Bruce are happily married in this version, living like the passionate, loving couple they are, causing Damian to naturally become used to what romance is like in this au, since he got to grow up as a witness to it this time, so it's influenced him a lot for what he would want for himself in a relationship and made him become more expressive when it comes to himself being romantic too. And another reason it's this way for him is because it's purposely meant for the fun silliness of this story)

17. What's a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?

All the Spider-Man movies since he's a fan (my headcanon)

Thanks for the ask, crusher!

[the-whumpening]

The Pet Tiger, #5 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Dehumanization, treated as a pet, threats of/references to violence and/or noncon, forced nudity, humiliation, pet whump, pet training, food restriction, caged, isolation, emotional abuse, absolute nonsense from Ozmund like holy shit dude, he’s way past gaslight/gatekeep/girlboss rn

————————————————————————————

5: Begging

Ash’s nose wakes first, aroused by the alluring scent of food. His body follows soon after, his muscles aching in protest at their cramped positions. The last, as usual, is his mind. Dreams hadn’t come easily to him the night before—mostly fitful flashes, abstract and vague—and he hardly feels rested. But the smell, at once sweet and savory and spiced, prods him to consciousness.

He cracks his eyes open, only enough to sweep the room for danger. Right, his crumpled spine recalls. The cage. As long as he stays in the cage, he would be safe—that’s the promise Ozmund had made. Even so, Ash makes himself as still as possible; if Ozmund thinks he’s asleep, then maybe—

“I know you’re awake, pet,” Ozmund says, shattering Ash’s hope for a few more minutes of peace. How did he know? “You’ll have to pretend better than that, silly thing. But go on; relax for a bit longer. Once I’ve finished my breakfast, we've got work to do.”

The shudders that had been kept at bay all night return to Ash’s limbs. He wobbles onto his hands and knees, turning and twisting to find a comfortable way to sit—perhaps he’s just too large for this tiny cage. From his vantage point so low to the ground, he can’t see Ozmund or the source of the tantalizing smell. His view is blocked by heavy, ornate furniture and the partially-covered frame of his cage. Without his vision, he can only rely on his hearing and smell to keep track of his captor.

Before long, the sharp taps of Ozmund’s shoes draw nearer. Ash had begun to suspect it would happen soon, as the delicious aromas gradually faded along with the clinking of silverware. Even so, he finds himself pressing against the wall of his cage; if only he could be smaller, if only he could disappear, if only—

The padlock drops into Ozmund’s hand, and the door falls open.

“Come,” Ozmund orders, his voice still calm and casual. As if he’s not ordering another man to kneel at his feet. As if he expects Ash to be at his beck and call. As if he knows Ash will comply.

Fuck that, and fuck him.

“No.” Ash isn’t sure where this surge of bravery came from—or how long it will last.

Ozmund tilts his head. “No?” His rage isn’t exploding yet, but Ash can feel the tension in the air. Even so, he stands his ground.

“No,” he growls, low in his throat. “You can’t do this to me, Ozmund. I’m not your pet—I’m not . . .” He steels his resolve; can he even believe it himself? “I’m not an animal.”

Still, Ozmund’s expression is serene, unbothered. He crouches down to the ground, meeting Ash’s eyeline and smiling placidly. Panic bubbles in Ash’s chest—this is a bad idea. Just behave; maybe it won’t be so bad, he argues with himself. No, I can’t. I have to fight. I have to, I have to, I have to—

Ozmund reaches a hand through the bars of the cage, stroking Ash’s hair as if he’s a frightened animal. Ash’s throat tightens, and words tumble out with false confidence. “Y-you can’t hurt me in here; you said so yourself. I’m not—I’m not scared of you!”

“You’re right, darling,” Ozmund coolly replies, his hand gentle on Ash’s sweaty face. “No one will hurt you in there, least of all me. I won’t force you out, either.”

Ozmund withdraws his hand, instead closing the door and replacing the padlock.

“You’ll stay here, safe in your little cage,” he purrs, “until you beg and plead to be let out.”

-

Ash isn’t sure how much time has passed while he’s been locked in the too-small cage. His stomach aches with hunger; he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last ate. It’s been so long since his body has known hunger like this—not since his mother died, before Kane came into his life. In those days, his belly was rarely full. He was still so small, so weak, and not clever enough to outsmart his prey.

Thinking about Kane is too hard; he can’t let his mind wander there for long. But, stuck in his own rash decision, he has little else to do but think. No one has let him out to relieve himself, or to eat, or to stretch his cramping muscles—the few servants who have floated in and out of the room have ignored both his presence and his pleas for help. But that’s what I wanted, right? he chastises himself. To be left alone and stay in the “safe” cage . . .

Ozmund hasn’t returned, either. Ash had figured he would want to come back at some point—to mock him, or threaten him, or offer him a chance to beg for forgiveness—but so far, that hasn’t happened. He hasn’t even come back to sleep in his own bed. Ash wonders if that means it hasn’t truly been very long; surely Ozmund wouldn’t change his routine, go out of his way, just to subject Ash to more isolation.

But as the hours drag on, he becomes more and more convinced of his fate. The servants have come and gone multiple times—multiple days, maybe? He’s lost feeling in his limbs, aside from the occasional jab of pain or uncontrollable tremor. Even his vision seems to fade at the edges, pulling him again and again into unsatisfying sleep until he can barely keep his eyes open at all. How long can a human last without water? More appropriately, how long can a half-beast like him last? Would Ozmund leave him here to die of thirst?

As Ash drifts in and out of consciousness, limply clinging to life, the sharp taps of Ozmund’s polished shoes finally return. They echo almost too loudly in Ash’s ears, his senses frayed from so long without stimulation.

The lock and door fall open once more.

“Hello there, pet,” Ozmund gently whispers. Ash’s eyelids flutter, but stubbornly refuse to fully open.

“Oz . . . mun . . .” Ash mumbles, bleary and weak. He can’t even summon the will to be afraid. As before, Ozmund reaches in to place a hand on Ash’s cheek. Ash leans into the touch, the warmth—I can hate myself later, he offers the raging disgust in his chest. It feels . . . nice.

“Master,” Ozmund softly corrects as he thumbs over Ash’s cracked lips. “Are you ready to come out now, darling? Ready to obey?”

I don’t care. I have to live. Just say it.

“Yes . . . m-master.” With nothing in his stomach, Ash can’t even summon the bile those words elicit; his gut just twists painfully instead. At the same time, Ozmund smiles brightly and caresses his face.

“That’s a good boy. Come, now. Let’s clean you up.” Ozmund tugs Ash’s half-limp body out onto the floor, resting Ash’s head in his lap. He dabs Ash’s face with a damp cloth; spores of bright green magic travel down Ash’s body, cleaning the filth he had accumulated while locked in the cage. Ash tries to hold onto consciousness, despite the painful haze in his brain.

“See, darling: this is why you can’t make your own choices,” Ozmund continues. “A silly, stupid thing like you? You’ve just left yourself in your own mess for nearly a week, without a scrap of food or a drop of water. Now that you’re mine, I have to make these choices for you. It’s a hefty responsibility, pet—to train you, to ensure your health, to keep you safe. Even from yourself.”

“Please . . .” Ash croaks in a broken whisper. “Water.”

Ozmund’s gentle fingers on his face turn hard, his nails dragging down Ash’s jaw. “Your begging needs refinement, pet. You will receive water when I give it to you. You will receive food when it suits me. All your needs, all your desires—they come through me.” Despite the calm and even tone in his voice, Ash can feel the malice beneath it all. He shivers pitifully. “But if you’re truly so desperate, I’ll help you. Open.”

Ash allows his jaw to fall open, though every cell in his exhausted brain is screaming not to. It has to be a trick—it just has to.

With a breathy chuckle, Ozmund tenderly lifts Ash’s head off his lap, supporting him like a newborn as he bends to meet Ash’s face. He forces a wet, invasive kiss on Ash’s mouth, using his thumb to hold Ash’s chin in place as they break apart. Ash’s eyes burn; he’s too dehydrated to cry.

Ozmund spits into his still-open mouth.

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

[cookierunauprompts]

a few head cannons you might find interesting in writing or doing stuff for shadow milk cookie all so you are a fastttt writer!

-cookies dont need to eat to stay alive but they still do feel hunger and eat so you can imagen the annoying pain you would get from not eating and they have been trapped for a LONGG time

-it would be really hard to even rest or sleep in the things the Beast cookies where jailed in so it would probably lead to them being very tired

-being jailed like they where for so long would basically be hell so i would imagine that he would not like letting his guard down or sleeping and resting which would make his tiredness worse

-he would probaly pass out now and again even in fights or situations because of the other two ideas above (small idea with the him passing out in a fight if your up for it)

from Little Silly Idea Trash Box

Box Anon(is it okay if I call you that?) I am in love with these.

Requested Prompts #5 - 💔

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked rapidly, struggling to keep his eyes open so he'd stay awake. He never knew how Eternal Sugar could just sleep so carelessly in their prison of silver, did she not realize that so long as they stayed here, their power would be drained? Without them physically fighting off the drainage, they'd lose their power a lot quicker. It was so boring in here, there was quite literally nothing to do except sleep, and wait. He could feel his hunger ravage through him, even though cookies don't actually need to eat anything he still felt it. And it always bothered him, always. Then, he heard it. A crack. And that made him curious, just what could make a noise like that in a place like this? Curiously, he trotted over to the bars of his prison of silver. He didn't feel the usual drain when he touched them, so then what was going on? They bended so easily under his grasp too, he might as well just- Creeaaaak- SNAP! " Oho?" He mused to himself, almost delightedly. Had the time finally come? Could he leave this awful, awful place and grace Earthbread with his presence once more? He couldn't wait~! Ah, right, shit he forgot about the vine seal. Pesky White Lily Cookie and her stupid plant magic things. He stepped out from the remnants of his cage, the shadows within the small pocket dimension eagerly swimming to great him. He greeted them in a nonchalant manner as he walked over to the vine seal, close enough to notice it's decay. Is this really happening? He didn't fall asleep, right? He bites himself (ow) just to make sure. Yep, it's real alright. Oh how he missed the world, and with the vine seal crumbling before him, well, he can't miss this opportunity to pop in for a visit, no? He could just tell the others about it later, after all, he has an audience to entertain, doesn't he? He'll have to deal with his annoying hunger as well, after all he can't properly entertain with an annoy stomach telling him and almost everyone else that he needs to eat.

....

Or, what happened before the Vine Seal broke, told from the perspective of Shadow Milk Cookie. Plus bonus headcanons!

After his initial introduction, the battle with Shadow Milk was more of an endurance battle as he still hadn't recovered his full strength.

If I want to lead into my self-insert au in this then once Shadow Milk gets tired out Pure Vanilla tries to seal him and it actually works somehow??? I dunno but now we have a sealed shadow milk cookie.

He did, in fact, consider trying to eat part of himself or another cookie. i think Shadow Milk should be allowed to partake in a bit of cannibalism.(influenced by silly friend worming their way into my brain.)

[rockyroadkylers]

I know it's not even October, but hear me out: should I write a holiday fic this year?

I came up with a few ideas for Christmas/winter fics last year, but by the time I had the ideas it was way too late to start writing them in time to actually post them during the holiday season. This year, I thought it might be a good idea to get a head start, so I'm trying to put some feelers out and see if there's any interest.

DESCRIPTIONS (READ BEFORE VOTING) (Yes, these are all inspired by movies lmao)

The Santa Clause AU Inspired by the Tim Allen movie, set a year or two after Ellen and Oscar's divorce (so Alex would be a few years older than the kid in the movie and probably a bit more tight-lipped about the whole "my dad is Santa" thing 😂), a scheduling mishap prevents Ellen from being able to spend Christmas with her kids. June is able to make arrangements with a friend, but Alex has to get on a plane by himself to fly out to California to visit Oscar at the last minute. Things are a little awkward between them, until something weird happens...

Frozen AU Not a whole lot to say here, it's basically the plot of the movie... with less singing, and probably less talking snowmen 😂 (sorry, Olaf... love you buddy... wait... could Nora be a talking snowman... would y'all hate me for that 👀)

A Christmas Carol AU

A Kensington divergence fic where Alex never flies to Kensington (or Henry tells him to leave, one or the other) and the emails never get leaked. Henry falls asleep on Christmas Eve and wakes up in the middle of the night to find the ghost of Arthur Fox in his bedroom.

Single All The Way AU

Inspired by one of my favorite silly Hallmark-y Christmas movies, Alex breaks up with his cheater boyfriend right before he's supposed to go home for Christmas, and asks his roommate Henry to come home with him and pretend to be his boyfriend so his family doesn't try to set him up with anyone over the holidays. Henry reluctantly agrees, but things don't go quite the way they plan...

You know the drill, reblog for a bigger sample size, etc...

[undertale-writing-times]

WAIT CAN I ASK SOMETHING-

Can the skellys get sick? If they can, can you make s/o taking care of them? I need the original AU and the bad sanses

(ﾟ∇^*)♪

Funnily enough, yes! They can get sick! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I picture how skeletons, and most monsters, get sick is when they have too much or too little magic. Or their magic is just not connecting with them well that day.

The more or too little they have, the more dangerous it is for them seeing as though it could, you know, cause bad illnesses!

So because of that, Dusty or Axe would have sicknesses more often than the others, and it would hit them worse.

Sans: When Sans woke up and felt really bad, he had no idea why he felt bad. He, honestly, tried to just ignore it. Yeah, he could easily use that as an excuse to not do something but there was nothing really for him to do anyway. It wasn't even that bad... that was until he started to walk downstairs and he, suddenly, felt so dizzy that he had to sit down, resting his head against the stair behind him his eyesockets shut. What the hell was going on? Did he have too much magic? Too little? That was one of the reasons why skeletons could end up getting sick... finally, before he could even tell how long he had been laying on the stairs, he heard his datemate say "Sans? What are you doing laying on the stairs? You know Papyrus doesn't like you falling asleep there?" Sans laughs, holding up his hand slightly saying "Hey,,, I get it if he's... sick of me a-...already" he moves his hand up, covering his mouth as he coughed his bones shaking. Y/n frowns, watching, and sighs scooping him up in their arms and walking down to the couch, setting him down "There we go, you will lay here and rest. I'm gonna take care of you!" they kiss the top of his skull, then walk over to the kitchen to make him something to eat. Most likely soup. He wanted to tell them that it was fine and that they didn't need to but... he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He just nods, nuzzling into the pillow curling up slightly. Ugh... he hated getting sick. He liked the excuse to be lazy but, honestly, he would rather be doing anything else than being sick. It made him feel... weird.

Papyrus: Papyrus would try his best to ignore the fact that he was feeling sick. He had a feeling that it would be fine! If he just decides to ignore it, then nobody else would realize! Right? Nobody would notice. He quickly got out of his bed, taking a few steps then falling right back down onto the ground, laying on his chest with his head on the carpet. What the heck just happened? He heard the door open, and Y/n quickly asks "Papyrus! What happened?" they walk over, helping him sit up so he reaches up, rubbing his skull letting out a soft sound of annoyance "I am... unsure! I just tried to get up a-and I um I tripped! Yes, that is all. So sorry to worry you, but I, the Great Papyrus!, is okay" he laughs and gets up. He could feel his bones shaking, and he felt so cold. Maybe this was because of how long he had been staying awake and training? He ran out of magic. Not fully but enough to be dangerous. Well... no matter! Y/n looks at him, squinting then lets out a soft sound "I don't believe you," they say, "Are you lying to me, Papyrus? You know that that would make me really sad, right?" Papyrus pauses at that, his eyes shooting away then back at them, shifting a little "Ahhhh!" he puts his hands over his face "I believe I may have... o...overdone it with the training?" they sigh, shaking their head, and get him to lay back down "Then I'm going to be taking care of you until you feel better... you silly skelly" No! He doesn't want that. He whines and complains but his datemate wouldn't budge. Evil. His datemate is evil.

Nightmare: I don't really believe that he can get sick, he could start to feel bad if there are too many positive feelings around him at once but he doesn't, you know, get sick from that.

Killer: Annoyingly, Killer wouldn't notice that he's feeling bad until he falls out. He was working with the rest of the Bad Sanses, when suddenly, his body started to feel strange. Much too hot, and he felt like he was going to pass out and he did! When he woke up, he was laid out on the couch with a cloth over his forehead, and a few fans on him. He felt hot anyway... so hot. He lets out a soft groan, reaching up brushing the towel off his forehead mumbling under his breath "What the hell?" Where was he? Where were the others? "Finally you're awake" he looks over, seeing his datemate who walks over, putting another cloth on his forehead. It was colder, a lot colder, making shivers go through his body but it felt nice "Where are the others?" he'd ask, frowning a little. His datemate would explain that they went to do the mission after he passed out, and left Y/n to take care of him. "Then I should go as well" he pushes himself to get up but they pull him back down, squinting at him "You passed out, and you are going to be staying here until you feel better, or so help me Killer" he would have objected if he suddenly didn't start feeling so sick. It felt like he was going to throw up, which makes him just huff softly and he sighs, shutting his eye sockets resting his head down against their lap. Fine, if he has to stay here... he hopes that he would start to feel better quickly, he doesn't want to deal with this for too long.

Dusty: When Dusty woke up to feel himself feeling so hot, yet still shivering, he already knew what was wrong with him. He hated it whenever he started to feel sick, he tried to ignore it but it felt worse than normal. He couldn't even open his eyes, and his bones were hitting against each other as he shivered. This happened more often than he would like to admit, and enough for him to feel worried but he knew it was because of his high LV and magic levels. When he heard the door open, he forced his eyes open to see his datemate, and they were saying something though, strangely, he couldn't even hear what they said "I don't feel good" he mumbles, and turns to lay on his side, with his back to them. They sigh, and walk over, rubbing his shoulders softly "You feel like you have a fever, I'll tell Nightmare that you're going to have to stay home today," they say, "just know that I'm going to come back and take care of you" Then they leave the room. He lets out a little laugh at that, rolling his eyeshines. They say that like it's a bad thing... he would love for them to take care of him, that would be so sweet... so nice. He fell asleep after a little while, luckily being able to just... hopefully sleep this off. Normally he's able to deal with it pretty well so he's, honestly, a little unsure on why he can't this time.

[mlwritersguild]

Love Square — “Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes”

The response for this prompt comes to us from @chai-ki!

---

So this idea actually came about when I was working on my Eras fic but I scrapped it because it promised to be way too long for the 10,000 word limit. 😅

When I saw the title “Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes” it immediately brought me back to this story. It’s one I definitely want to write and I think I may keep the title because I love it. I just have other pieces I’ve committed to that I need to finish first. 🫣 (Looking at you December event fic…)

The story takes place post “Destruction”, post Monarch defeat and follows my typical ‘I use what I want from cannon and scrap the rest’ type of writing. It’s an AU where Adrien and Marinette have never met -potentially. I haven’t figured out the plot holes there yet. Adrien is traumatized by the fact that he not only killed a person but that that person was his father who was also an evil psycho. Maribug of course only knows part if the story and tries to be supportive but he falls off the face of the earth, refusing to transform ever again. Two years later is where the majority of the story would take place. So yeah. 

If you’ve gotten this far, enjoy the snippet below and thank you! 🥰

🦋

Adrien awoke to his head pounding. Rays of all too cheerful sunlight streamed in through his curtains that gently swayed in the breeze flowing through his wide-open balcony doors. He tried to remember what exactly happened last night that would lead him to leave them open. Trying and failing to focus on any sliver of a detail, he decided to try and get up.

Bad idea.

His stomach lurched and he barely made it to the bathroom before emptying what little remained inside. The action only spurred his headache on, and his vison went blurry. Leaning back against the wall he tried again to recall any sliver of a detail from the night before. Despite the obvious hangover, his heart felt incredibly heavy, like something large was suddenly missing, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Rapidly he came to the conclusion that he needed more sleep if he were going to figure anything out.

Adrien crawled his way back to his bed and hoisted himself up, facing away from the open window this time. A black blob filled his line of sight and for a moment he thought something was truly wrong with his eyes before realization hit.

“Plagg?”

“Hey kid. You look like…”

“What- what happened?”

Plagg hoisted the large comforter up and over Adrien’s shoulders. “Get some sleep, you need the rest.”

Rather than reply, Adrien quickly fell into a deep slumber, already forgetting what it was he had wanted to know in the first place. Plagg hovered above him with a sad look in his eyes.

“It would break your heart if you remembered, kid.”

‹«‹ ›»›

1 New Voicemail

“Hey kitty, just checking in. You had me really worried last night. Plagg assured me that you were okay… I don’t really believe him, but I suppose I don’t really have the choice. Heh.  Um. So, anyways, I’m at our spot. Please come see me soon.”

➿

1 New Voicemail of 427

“Kitty… It’s been a year. I hope you’re alright. I miss you.”

“Nothing new has happened lately. Same old minor crimes and what not… My friend (the one I told you found out who I was about a few months ago) and I have been talking and… well I think I want you to know who I am outside of the mask.”

“No, I know that I want you to know.”

“My balcony hatch was always open for you, even if it was raining because I wanted you to know you were welcome any time... You used to come by for cookies and tea… Sometimes we’d stay up late and watch a movie, sometimes you’d fall asleep on my chaise. We were closer than you knew… silly kitty.”

“Marinette. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And I miss you, Chaton.”

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