dimpalzenesys

[isorottatime]

for years i rewrote my own memory in order to blame myself for developing ocd. i read a book about a girl with ocd a few months before it got really bad and i guess i thought i just??? copied that???? cause it sounded so fun??? anyway a while back i found my dairy from the time and before i even knew of that book i was detailing my extremely upsetting intrusive thoughts i’d developed when i started at secondary school & when i did read that book i literally made a note of “it kinda sounds like what’s going on in my head, good thing i know what not to do now” like jesus christ as if ‘i’m sure i can control it’ isn’t the dumbest thing ever in this type of context lmao. anyway the moral of the story is that your brain lies to you sometimes

[batarangsoundsdumb]

hae interrogationes multae respondeant quia demens .

if you read this entire ask post you deserve a gold star and financial recompensation

Um, Obviously because when you’re adopted by a white guy you automatically become white duhhh

this is about this post lmao and yeah youre absolutely right, you have to hand your poc card in when you get adopted by a white guy.

Do you think Cass would listen to Yanni, the YouTube channel epic symphonic rock, or some other stuff? There's some cool mashups but idk if that's up your alley, I kinda feel like I'm pushing it with my weird taste of music by recommending an orchestra cover of metal, but i just love that sort of thing and mashups :P @harvestyourcherries 

i haven’t heard of that? but in my personal (correct) opinion steph listens to classical music, and then both modern and older, and then also stuff like black sabbath, iron maiden, but also hardrock and hardcore. i like the idea of cass just liking the most extreme screaming songs full of noise and then also listen to pachelbel’s 370th sonata yanno? THANK YOU for the rec tho

speaking of ur cass playlist hc...reminds of the time (yesterday) i found 2 playlists randomly on spotify from the same user. one was abt 3 hours of instrumental/classical "dark" & "nostalgic" music. the other almost 11 hours of nothing but hardcore bass/synth/electronic music. just an incredible tightrope act to put on in public. the synth one was also called like "psalms for synth sluts" which is Also incredible

tbh i LOVE synth SO MUCH like for no reason at all but then also cannot handle a poppy electronic beat lmao. but this seems like the kinda thing i’d do but just in one (1) playlist bc i just sort songs by vibe instead of genre? that’s how i end up with britney spears and billy ray cyrus in the same playlist. 

Oh, I want Kate Kane playlist next! It would be amazing if you could do one when you have time and will 🙏

how rude would it be of me to just say no? like sorry kate but idk you and also you seem way too keen on the us military for an institution that homophobically targeted you? (and also commits war crimes) but let’s unpack the fact that the institution that caused the death of your mom and sister and also got you blacklisted for being gay is still one you align with???

'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' --- when i tell you i fucking screamed LOL!!!!!!! i can imagine the cameraman not knowing if he should cut to commercial or keep it on these two weirdos fighting on stage (bruce definitely ruffled dick's hair/noogied him right?? 

about this post but yeah lmao. this cameraman just turns to like the audience to get a reaction and it’s just multiple moments of CLEAR shock.

you are the only funny person on this hellsite

how egotistical is it for me to say that i get this ask multiple times a month? bc it literally happens so often it’s hilarious to me.

Wish there was more john/Bruce content 😔😔😔 was so hungry I actually looked at canon media 😔😔😔 (Justice League Dark babeeeyyyyyy)

check out batman: damned for some mediocre content but at least it’s john/bruce (also very interesting story and stuff, just got very >:( over this weird part where harley quinn tried to r*pe bruce or something? it’s not for everyone)

dick grayson but he's nicki minaj

his anaconda don’t want none,,, unless...... 

Dick Grayson was never a cop, he played Marshall on Paw Patrol

you are SO right. also paw patrol is a fucking good show idc. that shit could’ve been the new steven universe on this hellsite.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CS1lI0bLI7-/?utm_medium=copy_link

...

why do people keep reposting my CONTENT. if you are not funny yourself don’t just grab shit off of tumblr and post it on insta,,, get a life. sidenote: should i start an insta and get all these ppl to take my content down that would be funny as hell.

Might I suggest for a Gotham City Meme: something about the true crime fandom thirsting for the rogues gallery

ok can i just say something slightly controversial?? no? i don’t find true crime ppl who are into criminals funny, that shits disturbing irl im not gonna bring that into my very chill universe.

i may have never seen a 'jason cleaning guns in sink' fic but i do know he WOULD

THANK YOU

bestie im sorry to say this to you but while you can, and people do wash their guns in the sink, that is a lot of lead in a very vital part of the kitchen.

people tend to do it in the bathtub.

WHY???? like damn why do you even have guns

i dont think i read many gun sink fics exactly but i have read lots of fics where jason cleanes his guns in the living room. usualy dissembles them and cleans them with a rag i think

lmao fair enough, like i think that’s a large part of what i remember as well.

if you say you've seen/read gun sink fics I believe you. I think those of us who didn't see them are lucky or maybe didn't search for fics by tags or something idk

i mean ive never sought them out but i HAVE seen them,, like definitely i know almost for certain.

saw your tags and I'm interested in Steph/Kara now. They would be the most chaotic couple <3

literally thoooo, i have a wip where they get together in a zombie apocalypse and like UGGGHhhh i am so in love with them.

I am the Breece anon. Thanks for the recommendation; am reading now. I’ve always been a hardcore Superman fan because I love my pure himbo farm boy. My logic is, if one Bruce is a Broose, then multiple Broose are a herd of Breece. And this is a hill upon which I will perish.

fair enough,,,, like moose, meese, goose, geese, bruce, breece. i get your logic and i stand by it as well. (glad you enjoyed the comic recs!!!!)

It's a beautiful day in Gotham, and you are a group of horrible Breece

OH my god dude lmao

there only being 42 fics on ao3 for tim and bernard is honestly so sad i need more

it’s like twice that now!!! we did it lads. (tho very sad that my fic isnt number one but like number 4 :((((  )

i'm too late you already did the poll lol but may i suggest bethy (bernard + timothy)

shit dude that wouldve been so fucking funnyyyyy. think ppl have just stuck to timber tho, tim/bernard kinda died down recently and i think it’s too bad, they’re a great couple and i love them.

Wait, hear me out

Bernothy @redlightofdawn

great recommendation (lmao this ask is from like a month ago) but very sorry to announce that NARDTH is the superior shipname

Wait, we know that bernard likes milfs (Tim's step-mom) but what about dilfs? gilfs?

Wait no, I regret sending that ask

these were two seperate asks and they’re HILARIOUS. in my personal opinion tho,,, milfs, gilfs, dilfs are just about vibes and bernard is just attracted to sexy ppl who may sometimes be milfs, dilfs, or EVEN gilfs.

crime in bludhaven would drop to half if nightwing had a boob window. in this essay i will-

WHERE’S THE ESSAY ANON, WHERE’S THE FUCKING ESSAY

Wait if Barbra and Tim r at opposite ends at all times what happened to Barbra once everyone’s Tim’s ever love before started dying lol

she won a lottery ticket and spent 2 weeks on a resort in the bahamas before returning home and finding out that the joker was arrested for tax evasion and then spent a month staying at her big tiddie goth girlfriend’s house before conner came back to life and she broke her pinkie playing table hockey.

Why is the opposite end thing so funny and compelling to me. Tim comes back from his depression quest for Bruce and Babs is now a literal god

lmao when tim loses his spleen barbara reaches nirvana.

Are you still taking music recs because I have three songs that remind me of Jason that I think you'd like

send to me or lose a toe

🌸 ⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐🌸😋

thanks, i wont tho on account of i wont.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMduBy3Sr/

⬆️

This is the whole of Blüdhaven and everyone anywhere.

Nightwings ass alone saves more people in a calendar year and does more for so society than most heroes do their whole career.Also u are one of the funniest tumblr pages out there. The vibes are unmatched and the memes and tags ✨send me✨.Thank u and goodnight @julia-flow 

fanksss also lmao.

That's going to be a little bit difficult to explain, but

There's some music that you listen to and you think, "oh my gosh, I can perfectly imagine Dick Grayson singing this song, with the same voice as the singer because that voice matches with Dick Grayson"?

oh yeah totally lmao. i have a lot of songs that i think are just entirely dick grayson yanno? kind of all of my playlists have that vibe, but i really find bleachers to fit with dick? idk.

"Lois lane/Superman" fics this, "Lois lane/Clark Kent" fics that, (/lh) let's get into the real good stuff. Some people ship Lois, Clark, and Superman as a throuple. Most popular fic tag for sure

yes totally, i think they’d be absolutely killer on ao3 and clark gets so fucking embarassed about it.

I miss your post, hope you’re doing okay!!

haha this was like 2 months ago, but i was doing fine then too! just didn’t have a lot of inspiration in terms of content.

Doot doot!

noot noot

I’m confused. What did DC do now? Like with nightwing? And another sibling? Please spoil everything for me

lmao they gave him a secret sister plotline where they had his dad cheat on his mom with tony zucco’s wife, bc dick’s life wasn’t traumatic enough yet.

sorry but it's so funny that batman is called "the dark knight" when the gotham city baseball team is called the gotham knights. it'd be like if a vigilante was running around new york called like "the scary yankee"

lmaooo no. but like yankee comes from dutch names or something so wouldnt it be HILARIOUS if gotham knights came from like german names and bruce would be running around called the dark KLAUS UND NIEK @graysonnightwing 

(not a batcest shipper) it’s so funny to me that the responses are “i’m a batcest shipper because i can differentiate fiction from reality and and it doesn’t bother me personally, but i understand why you oils think it’s weird” to “i wish all batcest shippers a very fucking die”

yeah lmaoo. i personally basically flipped my entire stance around to ‘i dont care please leave me and everybody else alone’ bc i think there’s really no point in starting a moral dillema over some fucking fandom bullshit. Please just,,, go home,,, log off, find a nice forest to have a little walk in and remember that somewhere in history, somebody probably died in the place you’re standing. and you will also die someday, and somebody will have to look at your internet usage and see you fighting multiple people anonymously while being named ‘nightwingsbuttchin200186′ like... calm down, we’re all gonna die this is not the thing to worry about.

so since like "wards" don't really exist in modern society almost all the batkids are foster kids, right? i used to work in the system and imagine: monthly visits from social workers and guardian ad litems, bruce having to get permission to take the boys anywhere out of state, calling their social worker at like 8 a.m. like "yeah dick broke his arm again... a gymnastics accident this time...." their poor social worker. bruce send her a huge bouquet and box of chocolates every month to stay on her good side

i imagine the social worker just getting into the case like ‘yeah let’s get this kid a good guardian’ and then ending up having to work with 22 y/o bruce wayne and his 50 y/o dad. and so this social worker is like ‘okay we can work with this, this is the best home i can find’ and then like it ends up landing on its feet and then the kid gets adopted and then they get a call a year later like ‘uhm so hi, this kid tried to steal my tyres can i adopt him?’ and like 3 years later. ‘okay so basically, my neighbours’ kid imprinted on me and now they’re dead, can i keep him?’ two years later it’s like ‘okay so this assassin child-’

ever since I saw that one post of yours, the meme that's something like "I know that abba's backup dancer got me" with a picture of discowing, I've been haunted. Every once in a while I'll be minding my own business then the image of abba's backup dancer dick grayson aka nightwing aka discowing will flash in my mind and I'll be frozen in place. Today at work I was in the middle of folding clothes and suddenly once again discowing entered my mind and I suddenly lost the ability to see anything except He. Thank you.

wow. the IMPACT.

Braver than any US marine man props to you🤝

this shit is about the time i wrote an article on batcest, like man,,, the fact that i didn’t get cancelled is MIRACULOUS. also like,,, uh if anybody on here did gossip on me,, send screenshots i’d love to see it.

Hello, just wanted to say your article was great. Thank you for taking the time to provide an unbaised answer. It should provide people with nuances they couldn't possibly conjure on their own.

May I ask where your username originates from?

yes you may (also thanks!!!) i thought it up when i was trying to find an original username bc i didnt want to be called like ‘timdrakes something something’ or ‘jason todd something smoething’ or ‘dick grayson something something’ yanno? so i thought batarangs, they sound so dumb and that’s my username story... now it’s my whole entire brand lmao.

yno that bit in kick ass where red mist asks kick ass if he wants a hit of his blunt, was that the inspo for stoner tim

no? it’s bc i think stoners are hilarious and drugs are great. (dont do drugs tho) 

How would u feel if someone actually wore one of those bruce or ollie pride shirts u edited

fenomenal next question.

Dick as lil huddy and Jason as James gave me radiation poisoning and now I’m screaming crying throwing up so thx for that

(Rico suave as Tim is perfect tho literally no changes needed)

i was so funny for that shit wasn’t i??? lmao i loved those weird ass fancasts

You're doing the Lord's work by providing us with all these Gotham/Metropolis citizens memes, thank you for being so relentlessly funny @nellethiel-aranel

you’re welcome!! i really enjoy making memes, but getting validation for my content and my memes is REALLY nice.

Bruce is such a slut in your memes and honestly i love that for him @rhodey-rhudert-rhodes-main 

he’s that much of a slut irl too dw.

Bruce and Alfred have an emergency pride flag for the batkids. Oliver Queen printed an emergency "I love my gay son" t-shirt and as soon as Roy told him he was dating Jason, Oliver started wearing that shirt everyday and Roy always cringes when he sees it. Oliver also has an emergency "I love my lesbian daughter" shirt just in case for Cissie.

lmao YES i had a post like this bc like all of their kids/family members are so gayy

stop bringing back batfam fancasts it is not real it is not real it is not- 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

oh yes it is my darling.

did discowing burn down the notredam because he hates the bees? @allulily

no he did it bc fuck the french.

im gonna beg for 1 thing and 1 thing only. please please please put physical by olivia newton john on dick's playlist

okay then beg. bc i wont. physical reminds me too much of glee and that hurts me mentally.

your playlist is sorely missing some Madonna. Specifically Into the Groove, Like a Prayer, and Vogue

i’m scared of madonna that’s why she’s not on there. she haunts me in my dreams.

suggestion: son of batman by aaron dews for dick’s playlist🤩

sorry, i listened to it and the vibe didn’t agree with me.

Hear me out, metropolis citizens sending rare pair fics of Clark Kent x Superman fics to Lois to edit

yes, absolutely hilarious. even more funny if they send like physical copies, no address attached and lois sends it back marked with red ink, SOMEHOW

Imagine all the smut Clark must of read editing the fics

clark reads smut confirmeeed

NOT LOIS READING SUPERBAT PORN AND EDITING IT A 2AM 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

hc that alfred is a meta that boosts healing factor of the people around him. if the bats are injured as much as they seem to be they would be doing bat stuff MAYBE half the year. no one including alfred knows about this. whenever the kids move out they inexplicably dont recover from injuries as fast and feel better whenever they visit the manor they just chalk it up to homesickness. bruce just thinks he heals really fast. alfred thinks everyone doesnt take care of themselves properly @finchcollector

that’s actually such a great idea, but i think that alfred would find out and learn how to concentrate it better so he can help more people, bc he’s great and i love him.

One of your dickfast posts reminded me of that tweet that goes: 'so you've had sex how many times? Yeah technically that's not a bromance' lol that's dickwally or dickroy

literally tho. like that’s all of dick’s friendships. once it gets past a certain time dick is like ‘wow i wonder what it would be like to make out with wally, wally come make out with me’ and wally’s like ‘we’ve done this like 40 times, dick, you know what it’s like’ and dick is like ‘sorry are you complaining?’ and they just make out.

superfam and batfam associations??

-batman and superman

-dick/barabara and supergirl?

-conner and tim

-jon and damian

pls enlighten me I am confused

nope,,, uhm batman and superman, but dick and superman as well, and then conner and tim, jon and damian and steph + babs with supergirl

I came across a fic in which Wonder Woman calls Batman "Stella" (like Stellaluna, the children's book) and I can imagine the batkids hop on the trend and maybe copies of the book appear at random places (aka, everywhere Bruce frequents)

sorry can’t reciprocate that was the name of my high school chemistry teacher and it gives me nightmares to think about.

good human what are your pronouns?

wouldn’t you like to know?

I need me some gothamites preferring harley over joker memes

everyone prefers harley over joker youre just very fucked up if you dont

don't understand why people try to add like veteran policy to the batfamily

dick pulling out his veteran batfam member card so he can eat first: step aside, peasants

Do you know the song Simmer by Haley Williams? It (the first verse anyways) reminds me of Jason? It's about rage.

damn yeah i LOVE HAYLEY!!!! youre right thoo

Okay so I like listen to your stoner Tim Drake playlist 24/7 but would he listen to skegss? Also I keep adding songs mentally it’s killing me 😩✋🏼 Anyways,, I literally love and worship your playlist 😃🤞🏼 And uh yeah have a good day ✨

stoner tim drake playlist is lyfeeee. also dont know who skeggs is? i’m stupid? have a good day!!

All the Robins (and Batgirl) decide to trade costumes for one night just to fuck with Batman and all the villains in Gotham. @subspacecadet 

batman knows it’s them youknow but like,,, what does he call them? he’s like ‘red hood?’ and 3 people answer and he’s not about to compromise some identities so he’s just Pissed.

I aspire to treat cops the way my dad treats them. This man is a 45 year old Asian immigrant to the US and the treats them like his pets. He talks about them like unruly children. Sometimes he pays off local cops to shut up and stop acting racist. And usually it works. I don’t know why but I can see Oliver Queen doing this

vibes... and also yes? oliver queen handing a local cop a donut to shut the fuck up lmao. but yanno i commit enough crimes to not really want to ever see a cop ever, so they kinda scare the everloving fuck out of me.

seeing as tim hasn't aged in years, that means he was 17 at peak emo tumblr era. im back on my emo tim bullshit and im not letting it go

emo tim had a wattpad account send tweet

People seem to think that batman is so dark and serious when the rainbow batsuit is right there. He wore it with no shame.

dude the 60s were a DIFFERENT TIME

dick grew up in a circus, jason grew up on the streets, and tim was probably raised by the internet

all of them cuss every other word and you cannot tell me otherwise

bitch i KNOW but dc has to change to an 18+ rating if they want to sell comix with swear words in them so we gotta deal with imagining the swear words in ourselves

thoughts on teen titans and young justice

haven’t seen teen titans on account of havent seen it and young justice was LITERALLY my favourite thing ever, tho i do gotta admit it’s not at all similar to the young justice comics unfortunately. i really wouldve liked to see timmy bart kon cassie and cissie animated on tv!!

ew ew ew how to delete batcest shippers I genuinely digust them

log off tumblr?

Okay as poc who was called racist for calling an Italian pastabrain: in the batfam are Italians bit Damian just yells various insults about the others being Italian. Just him yelling “What are you doing you moronic spaghettihead!” At steph etc

huh? i meant real italians. homeboy is telling steph he hopes she chokes on her fucking garlic.

I think it's dumb as hell to pull the batman is the best fighter in the batfam argument because like it's just irresponsible of Bruce to let his kids fight when they couldn't possibly be on his league or something

fair enough, but also like who cares they could all kill you just sit down and take a beating.

lady shiva, thalia al ghul and Selina Kyle are all milfs @notanothertimburtonenthusiastugh 

unfortunately, i have to admit,,, you’re right

why tf didn't someone give joker a death sentence already? like he's a mass murderer...give him the electric chair treatment wtf

idk i think plenty of people would have tried to murder him already (boring answer is: he is a popular character so they can’t kill him off bc he brings in lots of money)

There’s no such thing as “ copaganda”.

all american media is propaganda. happy to clear this up for you

is it bad that I find lady shiva owa owa

no. find her as owa owa as you want.

aight I'm guessing the order of your favs in batfam:

1. tim

2. Steph

3. dick

4. Duke

5. the rest

you’re wrong but it’s cute that you tried, i generally don’t have favourites, but i have a special place in my heart for steph, tim, dick and cass. bc they were like my introduction to batfam. but damian, jason, duke, bruce, babs and alfred are NOT FORGOTTEN OR UNLOVED

oh my god i was literally just readily willing to believe that italians werent white ty for clarifying it was a joke im so dumb sdkvjskdfs

i mean some italians aren’t white? italian is a nationality as well as an ethnicity, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

since I saw so many people doing headcanons about the nationalities of batboys, I see Dick as an Italian.

dont know if youre serious or not, but sure.

super random but

jason 🤝 damian

old english

lmao fair enough.

tim absolutely has 1 gay uncle and his parents shit talk said uncle all the time so after bruce adopts him he specifically reaches out to this uncle to be like "heyyyy just so you know you majorly influenced my life yes i know i havent seen you since i was 5 and at the family reunion yes i know you dont remember my name idc thank you im gay too" and then they never talk again.

yuppp lmao that’s definitely something that could happen. i can also consider tim having no family members, like none. until he does like a dna test and he realises he has like an aunt living barely 2 miles away from him who’s like some illegitimate child of his grandpa.

I dare you one of them sends clark superman/clark fic and clark corrects the shit out of it and then goes like ps his dick is not that big, just telling as someone who has seen it. internet either explodes or goes who tf did he not fuck at this point.

i think everybody would call clark a buzzkill and try to cancel him over that.

so you're telling me Tim Drake wouldn't buy Starbucks?

no. dunkin donuts all the way

One of my favorite things is imagining people finding out jason came back from the dead and being like "oh no does he have magic powers now?!?!?" and he just pulls out a gun and tries to shoot joker

now he doesn’t even have the gun :) lmao

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

bruce gets codename ‘ugh’ everytime. he hates it.

crazy that tim being a 17 y/o ceo and a stoner who does brand deals are all actual canon things written in detective comics comics and not made up for shits and giggles by you, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb @rowdeyclown

SO CRAZY HUH?

batman au where everything is the same but his utility belt is bright pink

absolutely, but i raise you, his boots light up like sketchers when he kicks people.

unbeknownst to the superhero fandom writers in the dcuniverse, clark and BRUCE are one of the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag on ao3. clark writes the best lois x superman angst, full of unhappy endings and scenes that are a so detailed you'd think you were in the middle of a superhero beatdown. bruce made an ao3 account to fuel "the do the butts match" thing, and makes batman/bruce fics from time to time. he wrote a superbat fic as a joke but ended up making it REAL porny. @concrastinator

dude they’re WAY too busy for that. Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan on the other hand are the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag writing what is Mostly porn.

When the dining table topic gets to politics, Steph says "eat the rich" as the solution

bruce just silently takes away her fork and knife while she’s talking.

[skzshortcake]

hiii this is a bit of a random request. i’m sorry if it’s bothersome! u can literally ignore it if you want. it’s just,,, i’ve had worst two weeks and my friends are all busy and i just,,, am constantly overworked and stressed bcs of uni (final year of uni fucking sucks) which idk i usually can handle but this whole week has been a disaster. i had 5 meetings. and i missed 2 of them, 2 assignments, 3 presentations and lectures. and on top of that i had to write an article for a magazine. there was just,,, so much due in a week and i got overwhelmed and kinda just,,, shut down. and to top it off, this morning i slipped in the shower (literally full on split on the floor) and my thighs hurt and i can’t walk or even sit without being in pain. and i can’t remember the last time i slept. i think it was two days ago. idk. i still have SO MUCH to do so i can’t sleep yet and i’m super stressed. oh gosh i’m sorry i’m rambling.

to get the point, i was hoping u could write a fluff piece with chan where the reader is stressed af like i am?? i usually read these to escape my head for a bit cause i’m a sucker for cute romance stories :’) it’d help a lottttt. but it’s okay if you can’t! 🥺 i’m sorry for bothering~

of course!! this might seem rushed so i’m sorry if it comes off like that- but i really hope it helps you!! i basically wrote chan into my interpretation of your situation, i hope that’s ok!! stay safe and take care bby! i’m always here if you (or anyone) needs to rant.

comforting surprises  -  bang chan

member: chan

genre: comfort/angst

warnings: anxiety and an overwhelming time, crying, not proofread

note: requests are still open, but it will take me a bit to get to them. i’m doing my best i promise but it’s kinda hard to write happy things for me right now. 

-

ring... ring... ring...

chan hoped you would answer his call. he texted you earlier in the week and didn’t get a response, so he knew something must have been up. he anxiously rocked back and forth in the office chair he was sitting in, staring at the wall of his office while he waited for an answer.

a couple more rings in, he was about to hang up, but thankfully, you answered.

he heard you try and calm your breathing through the phone “hey.” you managed to say.

“prince(ss)? what’s wrong?” he immediately sat up, alert.

“it’s nothing,” you cry “i just-i just fell this morning and i’m a little busy.”

“ok, ok, can you tell me what’s going on? i’m on my way right now i’m not sure how long i’ll be.” he stood up and saved his work on the computer, hurrying to pack what was necessary in his black backpack to rush out the door.

“i-i,” you broke down in tears again “i have so much to do and i haven’t slept in days. i’m so behind on work it’s making me sick to my stomach...”

“ok, ok, i’m going to help you... can you breathe for me, baby? here, breathe in on the count of one and out on five, ok? i’ll count to eight for you.” 

he started counting through the phone for you, knowing he probably looked crazy as he loudly breathed and counted on a phone call while speed-walking through the jyp building, but he couldn’t care less.

you were doing your best, truly, and he could tell, but you still couldn’t manage to take deep enough breaths to calm down.

“it’s ok, you’re doing so well for me, y/n... i’m on my way, i’ll be twenty minutes?” he says, waiting for your “ok” before helping you breathe again.

chan managed to get you to calm down a bit by the time he walked out of the building. he suggested that you go get a glass of water and sit down somewhere and wait until he got home. 

“i’m ok, i’m ok now.” you sniffle, taking another sip of water and breathing heavily into the cup while you drank. “you travel safely please.” you told him.

“don’t worry, i will. are you going to be ok if i hang up now? i’ll be home soon, prince(ss).”

“mhmm.”

“ok, i’ll be fifteen minutes now. go sit down and rest please.”

he said goodbye and hung up, feeling even more worried for you. chan couldn’t help it, you’re his baby and he feels a responsibility to make sure you’re ok. he didn’t care if he had work to do or if he was busy, you were always his first priority.

he picked up some things for you from the downtown, practically checking his phone every thirty seconds to double check you hadn’t texted him again. he left just as soon as he arrived to make sure he wouldn’t make you wait any longer.

chan nearly dropped his keys as he fumbled with the door. he just wanted to see you as soon as possible.

“y/n?”

“hm?” your teary voice answered from the living room. you chose to sit down on the plush couch, only issue is you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back up.

“hey, i’m here now.” he set his bags down next to him while he sat down next to you. “can i hold you?” 

you just nodded, feeling sobs build in your throat again. but you didn’t cry, you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.

chan pulled you into a hug, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to make your work easier. “i’ve got you. it’s going to be ok.”

he let you stay there for as long as you needed. once you looked up at him with a defeated expression, he knew that it really must have been a difficult time.

“i’m so stuck.” 

“honey, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry that things have been difficult, i’ll help you as much as you need, ok? we will figure it out, together. i promise.” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead “i have something for you, baby.” 

he leaned down and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and your favorite restaurant’s takeout. chan handed you the bouquet, and you noticed how he bought the flowers in your favorite color and even had the florist wrap them it thin decorative paper with a bow wrapped around it, also in your favorite color. he always excelled at attention to detail.

you felt the tears build again. “i love you so much. thank you.” you looked down to hide your crying from him. you felt so touched that he went to the extent to rush out and get your favorite food and flowers on a whim when he was in the middle of working. 

chan truly had a heart of gold.

“of course, i love you so much too, prince(ss).” he put a hand on your cheek, not forcing you to look him in the eye if you felt overwhelmed, but letting you know he was there. “now, how about we eat some good food and get some good rest, and i will help you with your projects in the morning. it’s the weekend after all, you deserve to rest tonight. i’ll help you get to sleep.” he gave you another kiss and stood up to get some plates and utensils.

when he came back and served up your food, he turned on the tv and put on a show in the background. chan also didn’t forget to prop up your legs and get you an ice pack for your injuries.

“you will not believe what jeongin did today... he lost a bet and had to make breakfast this morning, and you can imagine how that turned out. we even gave him thorough instructions but he still managed to forget some of the ingredients and had to have help from the manager.”

chan joked with you and cheered you up, like he always did. you were pretty sure he was some sort of guardian angel for you, because he always showed you unconditional love and support, even when he was busy.

he was forever grateful for you and you were forever grateful for him.

[twokinkybeans]

Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him and the One Time It Worked In His Favor [STARKER]

Summary: Now that Peter is radioactive, his surroundings start responding to him. And he starts to respond to his surroundings differently as well. His newfound infatuation with bananas are a difficult thing for Tony to deal with. Note: there is a snippet of science-y truth in what I wrote, but I also took major creative liberty with what happens. Warnings/tags: Food kink, Praise kink, Dom/Sub undertones, Subspace, Under-negotiated kink, Teasing, Dirty Talk, “For science” sure Tones, Implied Blowjob, BANANAS! (also Peter is an adult when the sexy things happen). Read it on AO3!

Four Times Peter’s Radioactivity Worked Against Him 1. Tick Tock It’s been three days since Peter Parker got his spider powers. He’s still trying to get a hang of everything, but at least he’s got his stickiness under control. Everything is just so loud and so intense. Constantly. The sensory overload has made him cranky to say the least, but it’s not like he can just skip school. With the sweaty, yelling students, screeching chalkboards and itchy PE uniforms. Not to mention the school bell. The anticipation practically hurts as much as the shrill ringing in his ears does. Another sound that has shivers run up and down Peter’s spine is Flash’s voice. “Check out my new watch!” He announces to the class as he saunters in, wrist raised to the ceiling. He grins, showing off the expensive piece of technology. Peter doesn’t know why but the device has his eye twitch. He stands up confused and walks over to Flash, drawn by the watch, somehow. “What brand is it?“ He asks innocently. “Wow, didn’t think it’d catch your attention, Penis,” Flash scoffs. “Gucci. Nothing you could ever afford.” “Huh…” Peter frowns, unable to look away from Flash’s wrist. His eyes go wide when he notices the arms are shaking slightly. Are they supposed to do that? “I know, it’s pretty rad. Even glows in the dark!” Flash turns to Ned, who just walked into the classroom. “Ned, turn off the lights!” Ned pulls a face but moves to turn off the light anyways, but when it’s dark in the classroom, no light comes from Flash’s wrist. “It- It works, I swear!” Flash taps the glass three times. “Stupid fucking watch.” With Flash’s limited patience, it doesn’t take long for him to rip it off and toss it away from him. Peter’s newfound reflexes cause him to catch it mid-air, but the second his skin makes contact with the watch, a bright flash of light makes everyone in the room cover their eyes and scream. ... 2. Emergency Exit Peter has no idea when he started eating bananas so much. There’s just something about them that tastes absolutely amazing. How did he never realize this earlier? The fruit is now part of his daily diet now. They give him enough energy to run around school and as Spider-Man, so he’s not complaining. At least he’s not addicted to sugar or hamburgers, right? Peter munches on his second banana of the day when the fire alarm stirs the school. All the lights go out. Peter looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn’t feel any alarm. He’s learned he can rely on his gut way better now, with his spider powers, so this must be a test. He quickly stands up, though, not wanting to seem disinterested in the fact that there was an evacuation going on. The emergency exit sign lights the way to safety for all the students. Peter runs towards the fire escape and stops, wanting to make sure everyone else gets to run out first. Above him, the escape sign starts flickering. He looks up at it and frowns, wondering why now of all times it decided to give out. Maybe that’s why this test was happening? To see which emergency lights still worked? Once all of the students are out of the cafeteria, Peter leaves too. When there’s a bit of distance between him and the door, he looks back and notices the light works properly again. ... 3. Thrifted TV It’s been over half a year since Peter has last gone to the thrift store. He’s very excited to get some new-old stuff to tinker with. Ben’s death and him becoming Spider-Man put a damper on his hobbies. He was able to make his goggles and web shooters with the scrap he still had lying around, but now he’s in desperate need of some new-old stuff. The thrift store is creaky and dusty. Exactly the way Peter used to like it. Now everything just tickles his nose. Still, he can’t help the feeling of nostalgia curling around him like a weighted blanket on a cold winter’s day. Peter snakes through the clutter filled paths, keeping an eye out for hidden gems. “Peter Parker!” “Hi, Mister Cheung!” Peter smiles politely at the thrift store owner. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you moved on to another shop.” The old man shuffles away from behind the counter and folds his hands together. “Wouldn’t dare, sir! You’re my go-to for old tech.” Peter glances around a table and picks up a few items to study them up close. “That’s good to hear, boy. What’s your latest project? Anything you need? Maybe I can hook you up with the right stuff!” Mister Cheung grins and excitedly bops his head side to side. “My latest project is- eh…” Peter glances down at his hands, hiding his web shooters a little more in the sleeves of his sweater. “Something for school, actually. Nothing too interesting, to be honest. Do you happen to have an old TV lying around?” “Just one, but yes! Follow me, follow me!” Mister Cheung excitedly makes his way to the back corner of his store. “This ol’ Philips still works!” He pats it proudly, with his flat palm. “Though, I don’t think you need it to work, do you?” “Nah, there’s just one part that I really need, honestly. If you’d rather sell it to someone who-“ Peter takes a step closer and the TV suddenly starts to tick loudly. Mister Cheung takes a startled step away from it and Peter gasps. His yet-to-be-named sixth sense buzzes every part of him, so he quickly jumps towards Mister Cheung, and closer to the TV. It ticks louder and louder, as a warning of something that’s about to happen. Peter shields the shop owner with his body at exactly the right moment. A loud bang thrashes through the store and something hits Peter’s back. When everything seems to be over, Peter steps away from Mister Cheung. “Sir, are you okay?” The corners of the man’s mouth curl down, but he nods. “Are you?” “Something big tapped my back, but I’m fine,” Peter says with an encouraging smile. He turns around to see a large chunk of the TV on the floor behind him. Any regular person would’ve gotten floored by that. He decides not to mention that to Mister Cheung, hoping he doesn’t notice. He looks back at the wreckage again and frowns. He squats next to it and wonders what’s drawing him towards it. Peter rummages around it for a bit and pulls out a specific piece. The CRT. “That what you need?” Mister Cheung asks quietly as he looks around the corner of the store. More items got destroyed in the process. Peter feels bad for him- for what happened. Especially once it finally clicks. CRTs emit low levels of radiation. “Not exactly, but…” He looks back again at the mess that was caused by the explosion. “Let me help you clean up.” ... 4. Wet shoes Peter never dared to dream of being in the Avengers Tower. More specifically, he never dared to dream of being allowed in Tony Stark’s lab. To work with him. On whatever project. Peter didn’t really care what they were going to work on, the invitation in and of itself already had Peter nearly puking with excited anxiety. Right now, he was being guided through the hallways by the hero he looked up to ever since he could remember. “Right, so-“ Tony explain as he carelessly points around the space as he talks. “You’re still too much of a young sprite so we’re not letting you up to the penthouse just yet. You’ve got clearance to most of the labs, though. I trust you know your way around them.” Peter somehow manages to listen both super intently and not at all. He stares straight at the back of Tony’s perfect hair with wide, wonder-filled eyes. “-if that’s alright with you. And then this…” Tony stops walking and gestures at a closed door. “…is where all the magic happens.” If Peter’s grin could grow any wider, it would have. He bounces from his left to his right foot and with an encouraging nod from his mentor, Peter moves to open the door. In Peter’s mind, a bright, inviting light shines upon him and an angel choir sings. This is everything Peter imagined it would be and more. Slowly, he sets one foot in the room, taking in the space and its contents. The desks and holo-table. The little kitchen area in the corner and the robots. Oh, the robots! And the cars on display! And the older Iron Man suits in the other corner! Peter is about ready to throw up for real. He takes another step into the room and then… There’s a loud, insistent alarm blaring through Tony Stark’s workshop and before Peter can turn around to rush out, the door shuts on him. “Woah!” Tony exclaims from the other side. “Kid, that’s the fire alarm! Barn door protocol! Everything’s fine, just don’t be startled when-“ The sprinklers turn on. Peter yelps surprised at the amount of water hitting his body and within seconds he is absolutely soaked. After a minute, the sprinklers stop and the door gets unlocked. The blaring of the fire-alarm is still going. Tony walks in, absolutely confused as to what’s going on and he finds a shivering Peter, hugging himself as all the water drips down his body, making the puddle on the floor even larger. Lucky for Tony, all of his stuff in this room is water proof and the cars were separated by glass. “Fri, was there actually a fire?” “No, sir, the smoke detectors were activated. Something is interfering with its signal.” “Is?” “Yes, sir. Is.” Tony glances at Peter and sniffs once, wondering what made the detector tick when Peter walked in. “Can you source it?” “It’s Peter Parker, sir.” The AI replies dryly. Peter scoffs out loud, causing Tony to look at him surprised. “How sensitive are your detectors?” The teen asks. There’s a slight edge to his tone and Tony doesn’t know what to think of it just yet. “Quite. More than regular ones, at least. Fri, please lower the sensitivity of the detectors.” Almost immediately, the incessant beeping stops. “Are you telling me this happened before?” Tony puts his hands on his hips as he walks towards the kitchen to grab Peter a few towels. “I only learned this a little while ago, but…” Peter sighs and turns. “The spider that bit me was radioactive and ever since that happened some devices respond strangely to me.” His eyebrows raise up to his hairline. “Do your smoke detectors happen to be the kind that have americium-241 in them?” “Well, yes, but-“ Tony interrupts himself, scoffing a laugh when he realizes why Peter asked. “That stuff’s radioactive too.” “Slightly, but yeah. Made an old TV explode, emergency exit signs become faulty when I’m near them, it’s annoying. Did you know ceramics are slightly radioactive? I’ve had old plates snap the second I touched them!” “Fri, give Peter a scan, please.” --- The One Time It Worked In His Favor Bananaddiction It’s been about eight years now and Peter practically lived in Tony’s workshop at this point. They are so in tune they barely have to talk anymore. When they do talk, nobody else can keep up with them Bruce could if he put in the effort, but then, it also takes a lot of effort. So he doesn’t usually join conversations unless the topic genuinely interests him. Peter is now completely comfortable in the workshop and around Tony. His teenage crush on his mentor might be gone, but that doesn’t mean there are no feelings left. They are now more deeply rooted inside him. More solid. Real. It’s no longer as fleeting as the puppy love he felt when he was younger. He was glad his younger self was never stupid enough to act upon his obsession with the older man, but now they are so in sync that if you told a stranger the two tinkerers are married, they would believe you. Unfortunately, Peter is painfully aware the older man would never want him in the way Peter wants Tony. He still calls Peter kid, even though Peter’s well in his twenties now. Everything about Tony’s behaviour screams at Peter that he really is just Tony’s mentee. Nothing more. And that hurts. There’s one obsession Peter still has. His extreme and undeniable love and craving for bananas. Something about it made Peter feel a little self-conscious. So, he only ever eats one in the labs. The others that he eats during the day are incorporated in his breakfast and during late night patrols. Peter never really cared to figure out why bananas are so absolutely, insanely delicious and he doesn’t want any of his now-colleagues to think he’s weird. So, his bananaddiction is a secret. Up until now. “Hey, kid,” Tony says from his seat. He’s bent over some file work as Peter walks into the workshop and tosses his backpack in a corner. “How was uni?” “Boring. Still fourteen classes ahead of everybody else.” “Good for you.” As sarcastic as it may sound, Peter can take it from Tony. He knows Tony is genuinely proud of Peter for performing so well, as it also means Peter gets to spend a lot of time in the workshop that way too. It only takes a split second for Peter’s eye to twitch and his body practically guides him to the fruit bowl in the corner kitchen like a Looney Toons character would float towards a good smelling dish. His lips are pressed together as he stares at the yellow gold in the bowl. Twelve bananas. Twelve wonderful, beautiful, delicious bananas were right there waiting for Peter to devour them. “Noticed you eat bananas literally every day, so I figured I’d indulge. Saves you some money too, since you’re still on a student budget,” Tony huffs, quietly referencing the fact that Peter still doesn’t want to get paid more than necessary for his work. Peter’s eyes are stuck on the bananas as he contemplates how many he should eat with Tony around. Not many. Not three. Maybe not even two. Maybe two? One. Definitely. Peter practically lunges forward as he takes a banana from the bowl and gratefully makes his way to Tony’s desk to have a look at what the older hero is up to. He cocks his head to read the paper. “Still working through the amendments for the Accords?” “World leaders are frustrating people, Parker.” As Tony talks, Peter strips the banana of its peel. He wraps his lips around it instantly and closes his eyes when the familiar taste hits his tongue. His eyes open wide when he realizes he just moaned. Tony’s entire body is tensed up, the ball point pen clenched between his fingers. He doesn’t look at Peter and the young adult silently hopes the man will ignore what just happened. Thankfully, he does. After an hour, the banana bowl already calls to Peter again. Like a siren on the shores or the Dark Side of the Force. The temptation is excruciating and annoyingly distracting. When Peter only had his one banana on him, there were no other bananas left to eat. It was easier to think of other things. Right now, with the other eleven bananas still waiting for Peter to stuff his throat with them, there was no telling when he’d snap. He takes a breath. And another one. He can get through this. He’s strong. He won’t break. He won’t eat another banana. “Pete, this is your fourth banana, are you okay?” Peter’s lips are still wrapped around what’s left of the third banana he didn’t mean to eat. Okay, so maybe he was weak. For bananas, at least. With big eyes, he looks up at Tony, who now stands next to him, from his desk seat. The man’s pupils are dilated and it’s only when Peter realizes what he must look like with his cheeks stuffed with banana and his lips half suckling on the length, that he looks down to see Tony’s very obvious hard-on. Peter scrambles to take the rest of the banana out of his mouth, but unfortunately for him, it makes a wet popping sound, causing Tony to curse under his breath. “I- I weally wike bananas, m-sowwy-“ Tony blinks at Peter. Once. Twice. Something about the shift in his expression makes Peter imagine a little bulb lighting up above Tony’s head. “Potassium.” Peter quickly swallows away the delectable fruit. “Wha-?” “Bananas are radioactive, Pete. You eat them because you- well…” “I vibe with them?” “Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Tony takes a step back and scratches his goatee. The man then turns to walk back to his desk. “Just… Just don’t eat too many a day, alright?” Peter swallows again and then nods. “I’ll try,” he replies sheepishly, a lopsided smile plastered on his face. It’s nearing 2AM and Peter is trying really hard not to grab his sixth banana. He already informed Tony that the fifth one would be his last. He can’t go back on that now. He curses his high metabolism, because he is actually hungry. There are a ton of other things in the kitchen to munch on, but his mind and his cravings still gravitate towards the yummy bananas. “Do you want me to get the stuff out of here?” Tony snorts. “You’re obviously not focussed because of them.” Peter sighs and drops himself back against his chair. “Mister Stark, it’s just so good. I can’t explain it.” A sly grin grows on Tony’s face. “Try me. For scientific purposes, of course.” Peter stares at the ceiling. When he opens his mouth to speak, Tony immediately interrupts him again. “Wait-“ Peter sits up straight to watch Tony walk towards the kitchen area. He takes one banana from the batch and tosses it at Peter who easily catches it. The fruit seems to vibrate in Peter’s hand, but that might just be his imagination. Tony grabs a chair and pulls it closer towards Peter, until he sits down right across from him, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’m really curious how it is for you,” Tony admits. “To me it’s just a banana.” Peter faux gasps. “Just a banana?” He then smirks. “Oh, you wound me.” “Go on, kid, tell me.” Both of them laugh as Peter starts peeling the banana, already infatuated with it again. It’s a long one this time, at least nine inches. “Do you… Do you know that feeling that you get when you haven’t eaten something in a while and then you put something in that taste absolutely divine?” Peter’s mouth salivates as his eyes are still glued to the yellow fruit. “The little orgasm-in-your-mouth kinda feel?” Peter barely notices how Tony’s voice is a little lower. Darker. As a reply, Peter only nods slightly. “Every bite.” “Sounds intense.” “It is.” Peter’s lips part as he brings the length closer to his mouth. He sniffs once. “The smell tickles my nose. And… And the way it sits in my hand, the… The stiffness and the girth of it.” Peter wets his lips, breathing coming out in shorter pants. He can feel Tony’s eyes on him. Studying him intently. The man is slowly inching closer and closer, as if there is only a little bit of oxygen left in the room and it’s right between the two of them. “And then, when I put it in my mouth- when it hits my tongue, I just-“ “You ride a high,” Tony whispers. Peter still stares at the banana, half surprised with his self-control. He would’ve stuffed his face way earlier if he didn’t have Tony’s eyes on him like this. “Feels so good,” Peter mumbles. “Tastes so good.” “What do you do then?” Tony’s voice is so close to him, right next to him. Peter didn’t know when Tony had pulled the chair close enough for him to practically graze his lips past the shell of Peter’s ear. He gasps quietly when Tony’s warm hand finds its resting place on Peter’s thigh. ��Like to wrap my lips around it,” Peter answers breathlessly. “Suckle on it.” “Suckle on it.” Tony’s reply doesn’t even sound like a repetition of what Peter said. It sounds like an order. Peter does as told and immediately moans when the fruit hits his tongue again. “That’s it, kid.” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine. Peter can hear Tony’s heartbeat and how it quickens. Can feel how the blood is racing downstairs for the both of them. Was this actually happening? Maybe Tony did want him? Everything that’s happening right now, sure points in that direction. “Keep going further down, Pete…” Tony encourages softly. His other hand makes its way to Peter’s back, gently massaging through his shirt. “Show me how far you can take it.” Peter sucks on the banana, letting his tongue run circles and stripes over the length. His eyes are shut and he pushes further and further until he feels it hit the back of his throat. “Oh,” Tony groans. “Perfect.” The hand on Peter’s back creeps up into his hair and clutches it tight. It starts guiding Peter to bob his head around the fruit and Peter can’t help but grin. Tony wants this. Him. Definitely. Thank you, bananaddiction. “You got a hand left, Pete.” Tony’s soft voice rumbles through Peter’s entire being, making the experience of the banana even better. “Why don’t you have a feel for how hard your nipples are, huh? I can see them through your shirt…” Peter complies, pushing his free hand under his shirt and crawling up until- OH! He moans and rolls his hips in tune with how he rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers. His eyes roll back and he doubles his efforts to feel even better. Peter sighs around the banana as it slowly falls apart on his tongue. It’s even more sublime now that Tony is helping him, steering him, forcing him. “Good boy,” Tony whispers, placing a gentle kiss behind Peter’s ear. The young man’s hips buck involuntarily in their chair but Tony’s hand that’s still on his thigh squeezes to keep him in place. Peter gasps at the pull at his hair and the hand moves to cup his balls through his jeans. Every part of Peter is on fire right now. “Nearly there…” Tony is right. Peter’s cock pulses with the need to release. He nearly has all of the banana in his mouth now and it’s not long before his right hand drops the empty peel to the floor. “Now…” Tony whispers. “Swallow.” Peter whimpers and does as told, automatically opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue when all of the banana has disappeared into his stomach. “Oh,” Tony coos, taking his hand out of Peter’s hair to push his thumb down on Peter’s tongue. “So beautiful…” Peter has already forgotten how to talk. His mind is swimming with lust. Want. Need. Tony takes back his hand, but Peter doesn’t see it. He still has his eyes closed, after all, relishing in the aftertaste of the banana. A soft whine escapes his lips when the hand that was gently massaging his clothed cock also disappears. However, when Peter half-opens his eyes, his smile immediately returns. In front of him, hard and aching, dripping precum, swaying and twitching, is Tony Stark’s cock. Something he had only imagined up until now as he jerked himself off in bed. Tony’s fingers curl around the shaft and stroke a few times. His other hand finds its way back into Peter’s hair. The man playfully guides Peter to follow his cock left and right. Absentmindedly, Peter opens his mouth, letting his tongue roll out in an attempt to lap at Tony’s dick. Every time just a little too far away to be successful. “Want it, Peter? You want it, don’t you?” Peter nods in Tony’s tight grip. “So hungry for cock, yet you probably don’t even realize…” Peter frowns slightly, unsure of what Tony is aiming for. “When you get off, Petey, do you eat your own cum?” The question takes Peter off guard, but he’s taken back to every single time he was in his bed, mindlessly lapping at his fingers during the afterglow. “Do you?” Peter nods again, smiling dreamily. His half open eyes still follow Tony’s hard cock in front of him. “Every time,” he manages to moan out. “So good…” “Not just addicted to bananas then?” Tony chuckles. “Bet you’re also infatuated with cum. With the taste- the feel of it when it hits your tongue.” Peter gasps, his own cock twitching and leaking in his now way-too-tight pants. “Such a slut for it, aren’t you? I know why…” Peter lets his head be pulled back until he looks Tony straight in the eye. The man grins and licks his lips, inching closer until the tip of his dick rests on Peter’s cheek as a promise that Peter will get what he wants soon enough. Tony grins wickedly. “There’s also potassium in cum, you know?”

[aminiatureworld]

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange. 

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone to Need You Too Much (Being Alive Chapter 4)

(not my gif)

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CONTENT WARNING: This chapter mentions past sexual abuse. It is par for the course in what you’d expect in an SVU episode but I am mentioning it here because it concerns the reader.

This is when Rafael usually starts checking out.

But you weren't how women normally acted at this stage, hell, the two of you hadn't even made it official yet or told the squad.

You needed him, though, in ways he wasn't used to being needed, having been single for so long. You'd call him if you hadn’t seen him over at the precinct, ask him how his day went and talk about yours, and you'd get him out of the office to go to dinner at least once a week.

But you never said this, you never verbalized that you needed him there, you never nagged, never made him feel bad if his work got in the way and he had to reschedule. Maybe it's because you were busy too, or maybe you were just that understanding. Either way, he’s surprised the two of you haven’t gotten into a fight more serious than work-related spats.

Rafael had been right, as this was fun at least for now, and maybe if all you needed him for was weekend dinners and the occasional Broadway show, that’d be fine. Your sense of humor matches his, you drink scotch, you smell lovely... but you had been pulling away recently; in fact, you hadn’t called him since you went out to dinner last weekend. He tries to chalk it up to you being busy with work, but he can’t fight the anxiety that the end is already here. Why the hell did he even give this a half-assed shot? Of course you weren’t genuinely interested. Of course you’d be another tally mark, another notch in his belt- and it’s not like he was truly upset, because he had figured it would end at some point the second he agreed to take you to dinner, and thankfully, the squad didn’t know yet. Still, though, this soon? It’d barely been two months.

Or maybe your withdrawal was due to that time you were making out with him on the couch - and you’d suddenly pushed him off, went to the bathroom, and didn’t kiss him the rest of the night. He broke out an expensive bottle of wine, then, and tried his best to genuinely apologize, because he did feel awful - but you’d told him he’d done nothing wrong, and that you just needed time. But maybe you’d lied to make him feel better; maybe he had pushed you too far, which truly wasn’t his intention. Rafael may be a dick, but working sex crimes gave him a much better respect for the responsibility of a man to make sure his partner was comfortable with what was happening in the bedroom (or on the couch, or wherever). But Jesus, he’d barely touched you, and he made a point to be more careful with you than anyone he’d ever been with, not just because of your age, but because he figured that your irreparable damage had been of a sexual nature, whether it was a bad boyfriend who didn’t take your needs into consideration or something more serious due to your conversation with Olivia months prior.

With that in mind, Rafael decides it’s more probable that it is work that was causing you to distance yourself rather than anything he may have done. The cases with children were always difficult, for anyone, really, but especially you. And this man? He targeted disabled children specifically, and you weren't doing well. He wonders how he could go about asking to take you off it without you finding out and without Olivia interrogating him as to why he cared so much. It's not like you're not putting in the work; in fact, it's the opposite, if anything, you're drowning yourself in it. Every time he stops by the precinct, you barely say a hello to him, and you're buried in a case file or researching something on your laptop, biting your nails down to the quick. You were always invested in your work, but not like this, and Rafael was a workaholic if there ever was one, but even you were stressing him out right now. He has half a mind to search your purse for a new pack of cigarettes, but he doesn't think you'd take too kindly to that.

When he gets to the precinct later this morning, you’re not there, though, and he asks Carisi why reluctantly. He frowns, looking genuinely upset. “She’s not taking this too well, Barba. I know she wants to be here, but it hits home for whatever reason, and Searge made her take the rest of the day off and probably tomorrow. She was crying when she left, but she wouldn’t talk to me. I mean, whatever it is, I don’t think she should be questioning the suspect, but she’s good with the kids, you know?”

Rafael would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried, but he figured you’d turn up of your own accord if you needed to talk.

And later on, early in the afternoon, you do.

"Are you busy?" you ask, standing in his office doorway awkwardly.

"Always,” he says, but he takes his feet off the desk and puts down his legal pad. “What brings you out here? Carisi told me Liv sent you home.”

"I...I need to talk. I don’t want to be alone right now,” you say anxiously.

"Okay. Sit down," he says.

You oblige, sitting in the seat across from his desk, but you’re still trembling. "My brother is disabled."

It all makes sense now, why this case, in particular, was hurting you so much. God, if this case turned his stomach, what did it do to you?

“He... he was raped, too. It was my dad’s best friend... basically his brother. We used to call him uncle. He was a teacher, and he’d pick us up after school a lot and bring us back home to watch us. I...I’m older than my brother by two years, and I joined the soccer team in middle school and that man would be alone with him. I just... I... my brother couldn’t voice it, not the way you and I can. Most nine-year-olds can’t anyway, you know, but because of the disability... he had no idea. He didn’t know the words to explain what happened to him, but he would start saying he didn’t want to go home with this man. My parents both worked long hours, and they were on the outs anyway, so they just thought he missed them and didn’t look into it. They trusted that man... and I did too. Until... one day a game was canceled because of rain, and I walked in, and...”

You stop talking, silent tears falling from your eyes. Rafael gets up, coming round to the edge of the desk to stand closer to you.

“Hey. Take your time,” he whispers, leaning over and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know this is hard.”

You nod, looking up at him. “I barely knew what sex was at that time. I didn’t really know what to call it, but I knew my brother was getting hurt, that the man was taking advantage of him, and maybe I should’ve called my mother or my father or the police, but I didn’t. I froze for a few moments and then I did the only thing that came to me and I tried to pull him off my brother. It worked, I scared him enough to make him stop but he grabbed me and...he did the same to me. I just remember it hurt so bad... like he was tearing me in half.”

Rafael shudders, but even still he’s in awe of your brazenness even at 11 years old. Just going right in and apprehending the perpetrator. You were born a detective, in a way.

You’re sobbing, now, and really, he can’t blame you. Suddenly, you get up, throwing your arms around him, and if you were ever in need of a hug, he supposes after recounting this story would be the prime time.

“Hey, hey, shhh. No one’s gonna hurt you now, (y/n),” he murmurs, running his hand over your hair. “Lo siento. Shhh. Shh.”

He calms you down a little bit, whispering condolences in Spanish and kissing the top of your head. Rafael doesn’t know exactly what to do as he’s never been good at comforting anyone. It’s something his exes would yell at him for time and time again, assuming his awkwardness meant that he didn’t care they were upset. It’s just something he wishes he could avoid, that everyone could sort out their issues alone as he did. But that was a joke, wasn’t it? Like he’d sorted anything out in these four decades of being alive. He repressed them, sure, but healed from them? No. And maybe it wasn’t fair to expect everyone to live that way.

And again, he can’t really blame you for needing someone right now, even though he sort of wished it wasn’t him (and he does feel guilty for thinking that, but it’s still true). What you’d gone through, well, it was unthinkable, and he imagines you relive it through the eyes of your brother every time you talk to one of these victims. What solace could Rafael give you right now besides, “Oh, honey, it gets better”?

Fuck that. Maybe it did get better, or you got better yourself, but none of that was going to come from Rafael trying to manifest it with his meaningless words. Rafael presumes another reason you came here besides your (ongoing?) fling was because he wasn’t an SVU detective and wasn’t going to revictimize you. So, instead, he asks what a lawyer would ask. “Did he get convicted?”

“Yeah. He did get put away,” you continue, as you pull away from him a little, still holding onto his arms. “It took me a while to come to terms with it, but I couldn’t let him continue to do that to my brother. I told my parents within the week.”

“Did your father believe you?” he asks, unsure if that was insensitive to ask.

“My father definitely didn’t want to believe it at first, but he always believed me for everything. We were always close, still are. My mother... I think she felt she failed as a mom for not noticing it, so she was in denial for a while. The detectives that dealt with it... they didn’t even look into the school, they just tried him for our case. And I always hated them for that, when I was old enough to realize.”

“Is this why you became a detective?” he asks quietly.

“Well, sort of. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t know about SVU; that’s why I have all those psychology credits too. I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do. I always wanted to come to New York, though, and you know, I thought I’d be able to help children who went through the same thing my brother and I did. I just didn’t think it’d be this hard,” you say, looking up at him.

“Of course it’s hard. SVU is hard for me, too, and I haven’t experienced anything like that,” he says, swallowing thickly. But that was a lie, in a sense, as he'd been beaten before by the hands of his own father and watched his mother suffer as well. There was a reason he was distant during domestic violence cases. He hopes you don't notice this omission, and he looks at you sympathetically instead.

“I thought I could handle it, though, and not act like a basket case,” you say, turning away from his gaze. “How am I supposed to help anyone if I get sent home?”

“Why did Liv send you home?” he asks, again wondering if he was asking the questions you needed to answer. A good part of his job was figuring out the right questions to ask, but this was overwhelming. “Not that I don’t agree, but I’m just wondering what she said."

You roll your eyes, sniffle a little. “She said it wasn’t good for my mental health to be around the suspect and that I was going to stress out the parents. No one on that squad knows what it’s like to live with and love someone with a disability, Rafael, and I just... I want to be there. I could help, if she’d let me.”

“Now isn’t the time to beat yourself up. I think the time off will be helpful to you," he says, squeezing your shoulder again. Wasn't that the catch-22? You join these professions to help people like yourself, but you hurt yourself in the process and become of no use. He thinks back to the first domestic violence case he was put on, a family not unlike his own, and it nearly broke him down, nearly made him quit and throw away those seven years of education. But he didn't. And you wouldn't walk away either.

“How is your brother doing now?”

“Ben - his name is Ben - he’s doing better. He's very shy, and he can get anxious and have panic attacks. He has fragile X syndrome, and that’s what caused his autism... I used to try and take him out everywhere with me once I got a car, to help him get used to talking to people. It doesn’t help, you know, the way people are when they see someone disabled, and sometimes it’d be hard, but... I just want him to live as normal a life as possible. He still lives with my mom, now. I just think the assault made him so much worse. I mean, I don’t know if he’ll ever get a job, now, or... it’s just hard to think about sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he says softly, because he really has no idea.

“Well, I’m just gonna...I’m just gonna go home,” you say. “Thank you for listening. I needed someone to. I know it’s a lot. But I don’t want to take you away from this case either. We’re already one person down since Liv kicked me out, and if I needed you to win the last case... I absolutely need you to win this one, Rafael. I didn’t get to question that man but I was on this case before and I know he raped them, that fucking bastard—“

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he says gently. “Okay. I know. I watched Liv interrogate him earlier. I believe you, and you know I’m going to do everything I can. I'm going to charge him, and we're going to get him.” Jesus, he needs to stop promising you guilty verdicts. But how the hell could he say no when this clearly meant the world to you? This was all too much. What the hell did you need?

“Okay. I know I’m asking for a lot but I need... I need this. And I can help you however you need. Liv can’t stop me from helping you prep witnesses or—“

“Slow down, (y/n). You still need the time off. You know that, right? You’re going to keep getting kicked off cases if you keep trying to push it. I know how Olivia is when it comes to this.”

“But, Rafael—“

“No. We’re done talking about the case, now, okay? You need to think about something else and get your mind off it for a while. Did you want to go get coffee?”

Fucking coffee. Why did Rafael think that equaled comfort? Maybe because the harsh acidity of stale coffee was his only friend some days, and he’d learned that a good cup could be a great mood improvement. Fuck, that was sad, wasn’t it?

“No, it’s fine,” you say, your face falling. “You need to work. I’m just going to go back home, then.”

You turn to leave, grabbing your purse with shaky hands, but he stops you.

“Are you sure you should be alone right now?”

“You’re working, Rafael—“

“Yes, I know, but you’re welcome to stay here.”

You force a smile, shaking your head. “No. It’s okay. I appreciate it. Are you free later though? I know we haven’t gone out in a while, and I could use the company.”

So you didn’t want to end things. Rafael is simultaneously relieved that you wanted to stick around and terrified for the very same reason.

“You know what?” he says, feeling a brazenness he’s unsure of the origin of. “Do you want just a night in? I can give you my apartment key. If you want to go there now, you can. I’ll meet you there later. I’ll try to get out around 7.”

“You want me to just hang out in your apartment?

“Yes,” he says, kissing the top of your head and giving you the key. “I have good scotch, and I guarantee I have a better shower head installed than your apartment. Just go. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Yeah, just say my apartment's a piece of shit, Rafael," you scoff.

He smirks. "That's not what I said. It's not bad for a single woman on a detective's salary. I can tell you saved for it. But it's nowhere near the lap of luxury."

"Oh, but your place is?" you counter, hands on your hips. You're still stressed, he can tell, but maybe you needed the banter. He hopes he's not pushing it too far.

"No, I wouldn't go that far. But tell me, where would you rather spend the night?"

You roll your eyes at him, and he knows you've conceded.

"Do you have anything in your fridge?" you ask. "I could at least cook."

“Probably not. But don’t worry about it. I can pick something up on my way home.”

“No, you don’t get it, I like to cook. Sonny gave me new recipes. You have a bigger kitchen than I do..."

“Is that what would make you happy?”

“Yeah. I need to put my mind on something else right now; like you said.”

“Then... have at it. Don’t burn my place down, though.”

You roll your eyes, kiss his cheek, and leave.

He’s not used to having to take care of anyone. It's been so long since he let anyone get this close, that they felt he would take care of them. Maybe that wasn’t what you were looking for. He wasn’t your father; maybe you just wanted support from an equal. Maybe he wanted to give it. It’s foreign, the feeling of walls he’d spent so long trying to build cracking at the foundations. But hell, if anyone could... couldn’t it be you?

It’s not like Rafael was opposed to long-term, except, well, he was. He’d say there was never an opportunity, he’d tell his mother there was just no one out there. But it’s not like he tried, either.

With you, it’s not much like trying. It all just happened effortlessly, on his part, at least. You made the first move, and most of the successive ones after that. And you’d said you didn’t know what you wanted - yet it’s becoming clearer to Rafael that what you were the kind of person who needed a partner, a lover, possibly a husband. That makes him beyond uneasy. He’d grown to care about you more than he would have liked these past couple of months, but that didn’t mean he was ready for that kind of commitment, if he ever would be.

And this, now, this requires more effort on his part; it requires more of himself to be used to try and help you feel better.

When he comes home that night, the kitchen is a complete mess, with flour in every crevice, dirty pans in the sink, and grocery bags left on the table. It damn near gives him a heart attack, and maybe he would’ve yelled at you, but he swallows his anger down bitterly. You need gentleness, kindness, softness right now, and that’s a tall order for Rafael, especially when you destroy his apartment... but he couldn’t forgive himself if he hurt you when you were already down. Kitchens could be cleaned. Trust couldn’t be repaired.

It might all be worth it, though. And, as it turns out, maybe Carisi was good for something, or you were an amazing chef (perhaps both) because it might have been the best pasta he’d ever had in his life.

“So you made this? These little things?” He stabs into a couple more pillows of pasta, enjoying the fresh, springy taste.

You laugh, clear and bright. You’re a little tipsy; you’d taken full advantage of his scotch collection, but you needed to take the edge off. “They’re called gnocchi, Rafael. And yes. I made them from scratch.”

“I just might have to keep you around,” he says, smiling at you, and you giggle, kissing his open mouth.

“You better,” you say, moving to sit on his lap. He wraps his arms around your waist. “Anyone else I’ve tried to get close to... it scares them. Or they don’t comprehend how big of a deal it was. It broke me, Rafael. It broke my whole family. You might be the only man I’ve been with who’s understood the consequences that has on a person and still not look at me like it’s all that I am.”

“I know. It’s not who you are. It’s something that happened to you,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your cheek chastely. “I would never change my opinion on you based on that.”

If anything, all your story does is cause him to have greater respect for you, not because you survived, because what other option did you have? No, it’s how selfless you are, putting your brother before yourself, choosing this career path over a million others that would have been much easier on you. Judging people based on what they had gone through is ridiculous. That tells you nothing about a person. It’s what they do in the aftermath of the things that happen to them that shows you who they are.

What was Rafael then, in the aftermath of the pain he had been caused?

He doesn’t want to think about that. Ugly things like that were better left unsaid. But eventually, he knows, you’d go there. You’d unravel the real reason why he was single, why he never asked anyone to marry him, why he was so scared to get close... but not yet. Tonight was about you.

“I need to get back out there, Rafael. I need to help those kids,” you say, your voice shaking.

“You will. You’re going to. But you need to know when to step back, (y/n). You’re going to burn out if you don’t,” he says softly.

Rafael still doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough; he feels like you need more than he’ll ever be able to give. And you’ve had to have been hurt in relationships in the past, Rafael knows how teenage boys are having been one himself. God, if he could smack his younger self in the face, he would, one thousand times over.

“I...I do agree that it wouldn’t be good for me to talk with the suspect. I’ll gladly leave that to the rest of the squad. But those kids? The parents? You know that no one is better suited for prepping them for court than me. Let me help you, then.”

“Okay,” he concedes. “But... I have conditions.”

“Naturally.”

He smirks a little, pecking your lips softly. “You’re right. No contact with the defendant. And you need to talk to Olivia first.”

“Rafael—“

“Don’t you want to get paid for this?” he says, smiling wryly. “It is work, you know.”

“You just want to make sure I’m cleared so it doesn’t come to bite you in the ass somehow.”

“Well, yes, of course. Olivia would find out that you helped. Also... you need to back away if it gets too much. I’ll send you home, too, if necessary.”

You sigh, nodding. “Fine. Agreed.”

“Okay. Now we’re done talking about it for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you, Rafael,” you say, looping your arms around his neck. “You’re a hard ass most of the time, but you really helped me today. You just see things so clearly.”

He helped you? He hoped so, that something he did got through, but he didn’t really believe anything could. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t emotionally drained, though, as he definitely wasn’t used his emotional support being needed this much.

“Listen...I’m not trying to rush anything either, but I just want you to know I’m glad I have you around,” you say softly.

“Me too,” he says, honestly, and it all feels so strange, letting someone use him to feel better. It felt good, though, to see you in a better mood, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s entirely the cause of that. Scotch certainly helps. Good food does, too. Solitary comforts, which Rafael knows too well. “Thank you for cooking.”

“You’re welcome. I should cook more often, really. Your blood pressure must be through the roof with all the takeout you eat.”

He squeezes your waist tighter, ignoring your comment, ignoring the fact that he might possibly need you too. You run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp lightly, and you kiss him gently.

“Well, I got to clean the kitchen I destroyed,” you say.

“I’ll help,” he says, and you kiss him again. It’s gentle, too soft yet too much, and there’s something in your eyes when you pull away, something real, there, something he doesn’t quite recognize or understand at first. It aches, it pulls at heartstrings that maybe have never been touched before. It scares him, a little. What happened to you saying you didn't want to rush things?

For once, words fail him. All he can do is lean up, place his hand on the back of your neck, and kiss you again. He’s careful not to push too far, not to scare you off. You need someone willing to take his time; someone willing to give you his all. Was Rafael really that man? Was he really up for the job?

Maybe, he concedes, that was for you to decide, not himself.

You get off his lap and smile at him before starting to work on the floury mess caking his counter island.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad being needed, even if he hated the aching feeling in his chest he got when he saw you cry, hated how you still seemed like you were too much, too good for him. Part of him still hates you, what with your constantly flickering emotions and your snippy remarks that remind all too much of...himself.

But you needed him there. Who was he to refuse to oblige, even if it scared the shit out of him?

———

Rafael wins the case again. Maybe he should keep promising you guilty verdicts if every time he does it turns out that way. Or, more likely, promising you causes him to work ten times harder just so he doesn’t disappoint you. You did help him a lot this time, per Olivia’s gracious acceptance of your proposal to work more closely with Rafael on this case. She’d said it would be good for you, and it was. You’re not as elated as he hoped you’d be, but you’re probably sick to your stomach thinking about how those kids were going to live their lives now or if they’d get the support your own brother got. But it's certainly better than the alternative. At least that man won't see the light of day for a long while, if ever.

It’s just all very bittersweet.

The squad goes out for drinks, but they’re not rowdy like they can be. Instead, the atmosphere is sullen. This case hurt everyone differently, and everyone is wearing their pain to the bar in an attempt to drink it away. Everyone is especially generous to you - Nick and Sonny fight over covering your drinks and Olivia buys you dinner. Normally, he thinks, you would protest, but you need this right now, and you don't argue with them.

Eventually, though, being around them seems too much, and you head to sit at the bar by yourself. Amanda looks at Rafael pointedly after fifteen minutes of your absence passes. "Are you going to check on her, Barba?
"

"What?"

"You heard me. Can you, please?"

The atmosphere is too tense to banter, so he just nods and makes his way over to you. "How are you doing?"

"Amanda's still trying to play matchmaker?" you say, smiling, but it doesn't quite meet your eyes.

"Evidently. But, I really do want to know how you're feeling."

You shrug your shoulders, turning to face him better. "I've been better. I'm just glad it's over. I’m actually going home for a bit,” you tell him. “I have a couple of vacation days to use, so I won’t be around.”

“Okay,” he says. “I hope your brother is doing well.”

“Yeah. Me too. And you know... I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry for the distance I put between us, you know, earlier this week? I didn’t mean to, but this case—“

“You don’t need to apologize, (y/n),” he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh. I mean, I did feel bad, leaving you hanging like that. I just know when I get stressed like that I’m not good company.”

“You’re always good company, cariño,” he says quietly, and you reach under the table to squeeze his hand. Rafael doesn’t quite know what you need, and this may be too much, it may draw the attention of the squad - but they aren’t paying attention. Or, fuck it, if they were. He intertwines his fingers wtih yours, squeezing back gingerly.

“Charmer,” you tease, smiling sweetly, sneaking a glance at your hands. “But... Rafi, we are dating, right?”

“Is that what you need from me?”

“I mean, I’d like that. It’s been a couple of months, and we don’t hate each other... why not? We don’t have to tell the squad yet, but I think I might mention to my parents I’m seeing someone when I go up there. Is that okay?”

“That’s...fine, (y/n),” he says cautiously, feeling slightly guilty he never broached the subject with his mother. And god, he wasn’t ready to. Wasn’t this all too much too soon? What was he going to tell you, though? No?

“You might not think so, and I know you try to hide it by being an asshole sometimes, but you are a good man, Rafael.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah, you say that, but I saw you up there, saw you fight for these kids... there’s a way to be a lawyer and not care about the people you represent. But you do care. And it's admirable."

"I wouldn't be able to do my job as well if I didn't care, (y/n). I'm not a saint. Don't make me out that way. This is how I make a living. I want to succeed at it."

"Oh, honey, won't you let me just give you a compliment?" you say, and you loosen your grip on his hand to rub his shoulder gently. "Nothing good ever comes from trying to deny your humanity. And there are far easier career paths you could've chosen if that's what you wanted to do. But you're not like that."

"How would you know?" Rafael says, harsher than he meant to.

"Okay," you murmur, wincing a little. "Why are you so intent on proving me wrong? You know what? Either...stop talking or leave."

"I'm sorry," he says, and he genuinely is. The last thing he wanted to do this week was kick you when you were already down - and here he is, doing exactly that. You deserve so much better.

You smile humorlessly, shaking your head. "I thought I made myself clear. Be quiet, Rafael."

Rafael nods awkwardly and takes a long sip from his scotch. And you surprise him after a few moments, by leaning against his shoulder. "I thought you were mad--"

"Shh, Rafi. Can you please just hold me?"

"Okay," he murmurs, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple before putting his arm around your shoulders. Under normal circumstances, he never would have agreed, but he did just snap at you and the rest of the squad was stewing in their own feelings, hopefully too busy to notice what was happening between the two of you. And even if it did draw attention - it was easily explained away as nothing more than a friend leaning on a friend. He knows eventually you'll need to tell the squad, but for now, this was already too much.

But it was what you needed. So even though Rafael is beyond unsure - he's willing to oblige for now and see where this leads.

NEXT CHAPTER

Want to be tagged in future chapters? Let me know!

[hoebii]

Fishy Business

Pairing : Jin x Reader (Platonic), Namjoon x Reader, Jimin x Yoongi

Genre : Fluff

I got the prompt from @voiceswithoutlips-kas​ (she’s amazing, also she thinks I’m a vampire which is obviously ridiculous hahahaha >.>) and I actually enjoyed writing this :DD As usual, never proof read, we die like men. If you have any ideas/prompts send them in if you want cause I really do wanna write but I’m already out of ideas :,) Also thank you so much for 57 followers! I’m so thankful for you all, you have no idea how happy I am! I’m glad you guys seem to like my writing even though it’s not the best. Feedback is always welcome!

Most students at Hogwarts had lovely and perfectly normal animal companions. The usual cats, toads, and owls were nothing to look twice at. You? You on the other hand had a blobfish in a bowl that demanded you carry him everywhere, because oh yeah, he talks. When he’s not telling you ridiculous stories about him being cursed for being too handsome, he’s judging your every move and making your life difficult.

Just like any other day, you were walking down the corridor towards your dorm with your dearest blobfish in your hand alongside all the books you had to carry to classes. Except today was just a tad different.

“Wow you really act like that when you’re around that Namjoon guy? How has he not run away from you yet” “Jin I am not above dropping you right here, right now and you know it.” you seethed, still embarrassed from earlier events. What events you ask? See, you have been crushing on Kim Namjoon, the Ravenclaw prefect, for years now. You have spoken to him on multiple occasions but you wouldn’t call yourself his friend. You shared some common friends (your only friends ahdgfjh) but you were always too shy to actually strike up any sort of conversation with Namjoon.

Now imagine the shock when THE Kim Namjoon walked up to you after potions class and asked you for help regarding the subject. But as life hates you, before you could say something you heard a voice from the table where your things were chime in with “Why would you want her help? She’s a dumbass” 

Both Namjoon and you looked down at the blobfish now staring up at Namjoon with the most judgmental look you’ve ever seen a fish have. (Then again you never saw another talking fish before him) You were about to go off on Jin when Namjoom chuckled and said,”I’m sure that’s not right Jin-ah.” He crouched down to face the fish before continuing “You shouldn’t be saying such things about her when she takes such great care of you.” cue his dimpled smile.

“Take care of ME? Excuse you but she does NOT take care of me. All she does is feed me and clean the water. Anyone can do that! Besides she’s always talking and talking and talking.” Amused, Namjoon asked “Oh? And what might she be talking about all day then?” “You of course. She never shuts up about you, your pretty face, smart brain, sexy b-” 

“OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH.” You quickly snatch up the small bowl you keep Jin in before you dart out of the class and speed walk away, face now beet red. You’re pretty sure if it were possible, steam would be coming out of your ears right now.

Coming back to the present, when you hear no more reply from Jin, you huff and walk faster towards your dorm so you could finally scream into your pillow after all that went down.

-

It has been a week since you started avoiding Namjoon like the plague (which meant you were also avoiding all your other friends too) and giving Jin the silent treatment. You’re not ready to face Namjoon after everything that happened and you’re still mad at Jin. But in the end you loved the damned fish too much to actually hold a grudge so you still carried him everywhere.

You were once again walking down the corridor but this time towards the library when you heard someone calling your name.

You turn around to find the person who called your name was none other than Kim Namjoom but he had Park Jimin and Min Yoongi with him. 

Park Jimin and Min Yoongi were both slytherins like you. They were the princes of Slytherin and happily dating each other. You were about to ignore the trio and walk away in hopes of avoiding yet another awkward encounter (you could apologise to Jimin and Yoongi later, they’re your best friends they’d understand) but before you could do that Jin was already speaking (screaming actually but cut him some slack he was tired of no one talking to him for a week. He needed attention babe he’s JIN) “Y/N LOOK IT’S NAAAAMJOOOON”

You were about ready to actually drop Jin (not really you love his extra ass) and run away but before you could make the first move you felt Jimin pull you into a side hug (it’d be too awkward to hug you properly with you holding a bowl with a talking fish in it)

“Y/N-ieeeee where have you beeeen I haven’t seen you in a week and we’re literally in the same house” Jimin whined while hugging you closer. You heard Yoongi laugh before saying “Babe I think you know why she dropped from the face of earth” 

You saw Namjoon smiling at the scene in front of him, dimples on full display, but you refused to make eye contact. “S-shut up I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. You’re being dramatic. I was just a little busy”

You heard Jin scoff at your statement but otherwise stayed quite... for now. Jimin stepped back from you before giving you a look that screamed ‘really dude?’ to which you glared back at him, daring him to say something.

Yoongi sighed, gently took Jin from your hand before taking Jimin’s hand and walking away without saying anything else to you.

You were about to run after them (they just took your fish wtf) but Namjoon had already grabbed your shoulder to prevent that. You stood there trying to plan your escape, back still faced towards Namjoon when you heard Namjoon sigh.

“You know... you have a pretty face too...” 

At that you whipped around to face Namjoon who was looking at you with such a soft gaze that you could just swoon. “W-what?” “You have a pretty face too, you’re adorable actually.”

You were staring at him with wide eyes, still trying to process what he was saying. “I actually came up to you that day after class because I like you too you know? Liked you for a while now actually. The guys always told me you felt the same but a pretty girl like you liking me back-” “Hey you’re very good looking don’t say it like that!” “haha thank you but it’s true. Anyway, I asked for your help that day not because I actually needed help, I was just trying to find a reason to get to actually talk to you so I could ask you out” 

You were gaping at him like a fish (haha jokes. ok bye) at this point, listening to him talk. Namjoon laughed a little when he saw the look on your face before taking a deep breath and stepping forward, pulling you into a kiss. Too shocked you didn’t react at first but right as you were going to, Namjoon pulled away now looking panicked. 

“I’m so sorry if you don’t actually feel the same way! I-I thought you did that’s why I kissed you but I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that, it’s just first what the guys told me and then Jin saying th-” you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up, now smiling. Namjoon relaxed into the kiss, sighing happily before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss, previous panic now completely forgotten.

Yeah you’re gonna have to thank Jin for his big mouth after this.

He’s so beautiful shfkhgkgjhekgsk

[shorkbrian]

ASKS

Hello again, asks are compiled under the cut. Please block the tag #shorkbrian answers a lot of asks# If you’d prefer not to see these types of posts from me. If I haven’t answered your ask, it’s because I’m saving it for a thirst, drabble, or fic.

I don’t ignore asks, but sometimes getting around to them overwhelms me lol. pls accept my apologies lol k here we go

I am very glad, I legit was so scared that it was too long and that it’d be disappointing bc the smut wasn’t super IN YOUR FACE yknow? But man am I glad to hear that.

I’m looking directly @ you

Someone noticed omg!!!  A lot of times I just put whatever song I played on repeat while writing that fit, but I have a *yandere* playlist that I listen to and it gets me going. Ty for noticing!!!

I’ve considered opening them permanently but I just... idek. I’d have to start deleting or ignoring the requests I don’t vibe with and Idk how to handle that lol. But thanks for the well wishes, hope your next few months treat you well friend!

Watermelon sugar why

Srsly you’re sweet but just wait until I start to really get going with all my nasty kinks okay, then you’ll be rethinking this strategy hunty lol!

I literally stalk @.vermiliren and @.kazooli and @.seita lol. Maybe when I get my blog more cleaned up, I’ll create a list of creators that I enjoy, along with fic recs. For now, here’s a link to my AO3 bookmarks which I read one like almost every single night bc I’m a horny gremlin.

I am the shark king. Sharks are my thing bro u don’t even know. I love them so much, they're dumb and big and beautiful and yeah I wish I was a mermaid who got to swim with them. Also I changed it bc I’m trying to make my blog more *professional* and all that so I can start being taken seriously askjakjdf

Compliments suck, if I'm being down and out honest. This does not bother me at all, I’m just unsure how to respond. I think I would prefer no comments, but I’m trying really really hard to just say “thank you!” and move on before I get uncomfortable. Having to fight with someone about how I perceive my self worth is exhausting, and especially so for the poor person that was just trying to say something nice and be nice to me. 

They do make me quite uncomfortable my dear lad/lassie/lasso. Say what you wish in the tags tho ! I don’t really reply to those, so there’s no pressure on me to have to say something back. I do however, see all the tags ppl use and some of them make me laugh so hard cause they’re so spot on, and it makes my day. like “Mark me down as scared AND horny” and “Bakugou better be able to bench 165 cause imma throw my fatass in his mf lap” and it kills me.

I SCEREAMED AKDHGSYDGASJSD this is the only format I'll be taking asks in now, no compliments just a yes/no answer to if my works help u cum god bless

you used the /gen!!!!! IDK what these are called but the /S and /gen and /J save my life!!!!

Frick you’ve figured me out, I do try to put like a nail-in-the-coffin sentence at the end. A lot of times it never works right, but I cannot for the life of my figure out how to end a single post ever. If anyone knows hmu pls ty

(Also ps I checked out ur blog cause yans are my jam and it is very much Not garbage!!)

That’s very kind of you, but pls don’t stay up past midnight it’s bad for ur Brian you’ll make bad decisions bro trust me all of my stuff is written after midnight

You will lafff..... but I will tell anyways..... I was prescribed a “life coach” after I got out of the hospital, which was really just a poorly disguised softcore “make sure u don’t yeet urself” type of thing. He had me write down things I liked about myself, and when I returned the sheet of paper still blank, he wrote stuff down for me. Like five sentences of “My hair and skin are unique and special” “I like animals and enjoy being kind to them” “I am worthy of respect” etc etc. and I had to look in a mirror twice a day and say those sentences to help “boost my self worth”. It sucked so bad dude, and I like got upset about it every time it came up, until finally my therapist was like “... this aint doin this sad bitch no good” and my parents got designated for yeet watch instead.

I know, logically, that (the majority of) people are not purposefully taking time out of their day to make me feel bad. They're trying to be encouraging and loving, and I appreciate it so much. But like... what do I say? If I say thanks, it’s almost like acknowledging what they're saying as true, and I can’t live with myself thinking I’m more than I am. I’m sorry you’ve had experiences that make compliments difficult for you also, I understand bro and I hope that your future holds healing and peace for you. 

Hopefully I won’t vent as much anymore lol, I’ll try to do that on my sideblog where I reblog really trigger-y memes akjdafhkjf. But thank you for your kind words bro, they’re appreciated and put in a nice lil jar.

Ah dw! This doesn’t sound like a jab. I think all of us r so sad n depressed and feel unworthy of love, so the fantasy of a Yan coming and forcing it on us and not leaving even when we lash out is just..... so attractive my heads gonna explode

me, thinking about kiri at any given moment like:

I have the next Hybrid! Kiri fic like lined up, but I’m so demotivated be I was SO CLOSE to finishing, and then wiped my computer like an IDITO

Waso, I’m taking horseback riding lessons bc my mom went:

and my grandpa told me that one of his horses was named Awaso and I immediately thot of u fun fact. But you’re so very kind, and I enjoy seeing you in my inbox. I’m never tired of u homie. You are loved and important, and it’s not an illusion. Even random strangers on the internet can feel soft towards you bro, and dats me, I’m the random stranger that likes u.

So I took Russian for a year, my dear friend, because I wanted to see if the language myth of “Russian is the hardest, Korean is the easiest” was true. I would say yes. So instead of like translating this and typing out a coherent response, I’ve resorted to google translate I’m so sorry but Виктор мог плюнуть мне в глаз, и я бы поблагодарил его. Also, the way Vitya is written in cryllic makes my heart swell it looks so cozy idek what I mean by that but it does? I treasure you man, hope to see you around in the new year and maybe??? we be good friends

Can any year be good when Kirishima Eijirou doesn’t exist?

cryface;;sad.jpg

I just imagine anyone who comes across my stuff, sitting at their computer shocked and slightly horrified, maybe turned on like

Daddy Aizawa makes me

Wait!! I have something to aid your troubles!!

ur welcome now u can be horny whenever you’d like 

pls every time we talk about Kirishima I have to act surprised like 

LISTEN BBYGORL I have had therapist Suga in the works since *checks notes* November. I am excited for it yeahhhhhh but sadly, I don’t think I will be continuing piano teacher Suga. The story is petered out in my mind, idk where it would go. Therapist sugarbird tho? We have some thots about this. Coming soon to theaters near you

[specialmindz]

“dad?”

CLATTER!

CRASH!

“UGH! DAMNIT!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY PAPYRUS!”

CA-THUMP!

The scientist continued to fumble about the lab, searching for the appropriate parts to fix the generator.

“Ki-et down Daddy, you wake up Boo Boo!”

“Oh no, don’t mind me…I’m just happy to be here…” The little spirit monster shifted a bit in Sans’ grasp, having been mistaken for a pillow in the dark.

“You aren’t SUPPOSED to be here! NO ONE is to visit the lab at this hour!” replied Gaster, still searching for a flashlight. He didn’t approve of his littlest scavenging at the Dump, but every once in a while, Papyrus would bring home something he could use and the flashlight was one of them.

Figures he couldn’t find it now of all times.

What on earth could have happened? The magic crystals still have power in them and the generator itself is in perfect repair! This blackout makes no sense!

He wasn’t used to something being broken without Papyrus having some sort of hand in it.

“Just in case however, did you touch the generator Papyrus?”

The baby bones nodded vigorously, “Yep! We’s out of ghost food, so I decided to make snacks for Boo Boo, but we was out of the veggie oil.”

“Veggie oil?”

A few moments went by before the elder skeleton jumped suddenly in alarm and rushed out of the workshop, running downstairs into the True Lab’s living quarters, apparently heading for their kitchen.

“hey uh bro? you didn’t use the oil from the generator-”

“YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh nooo…”

Hiding his face in Sans’ shirt, Napstablook shook in terror, unused to the family’s quarrels. Though the scientist’s anger was nostalgic and reminded him of one of his cousins, it had been awhile since he’d heard any yelling and he had heard from Papyrus that Gaster wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The fact that this was probably the spirit’s fault, made things even worse as he had been hoping to make a good impression on the family.

So much for that.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“naw, forget about it. you’re a guest, right? guests are supposed to get snacks. pap just made a mistake is all.”

“Heh heh heh…”

“hm? what’s so funny?”

“I like your accent.”

Papyrus looked up, grinning. “Me too, Snas from Boston, so he say stuff like 'fuhgeddaboudit' and ‘I’s hittin’ da’ bricks’ and ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid!”

“i don’t spell it like that! and what does that last one even mean?”

SHHHEERRAA!

Before the infant could answer, the elevator door opened and Gaster came rushing out. He didn’t stop to say anything to the children, he merely grabbed a vial of…something…and ran back in, keeping the door open with his wingdings.

Not that this was a good idea mind you, as he soon realized all too late that he wasn’t alone, just as the elevator closed and began its second descent.  

“I do hope you’s not planning on ruining mah new firepace stink Daddy,” said the baby, still wearing his smile from before.

“Huh? What the hell? How’d you get in here?!”

“I cuwalled.”

“Well when we get to the living quarters, you can CRAWL your miniature ass to your room! Do you know how difficult it is to put out an oil fire?”

“How this ellyvator work without da’ tricity? You learn Snas’ witchcraft?”

“Of course not. I’ve a second generator hidden downstairs…just in case you break the first one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t reach-”

“THERE A CWOSER BABY MASSAGER?!”

“Wh-what? ‘Baby Massager?’ Are you laying on the generator?”

“Yep! Is fun. I likes it better than the washy machine cause’ it always on. It feel nice on mah bones and it make me go UHUHUHUHUH…then I falls off.”

Gaster shook his head.

“What? What I do?”

“Though vibrations are good for bones and newborns alike, the generator is NOT the best tool to use because of the oil within it. THIS generator especially. This one, connected to the lab, is custom designed to keep running indefinitely…not something a normal generator should ever do. I haven’t a choice however, if I want to keep Mt. Ebott from erupting. The oil I use comes from a reservoir that’s FAR too close to the surface of Hotland. It needs to be depleted less there be an explosion, but no matter how much is used, there seems to be no end to it.”

“That sound like a solution to da’ power problem we gots dough. Why you not use it?” asked Papyrus curiously. He didn’t know much about oil, he assumed it was discovered and researched sometime after he was born. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention it before either…unless it had something to do with cooking. The stuff he had poured out of generator upstairs was a liquid, but liquids were supposed to put OUT fires, weren’t they? “The yellow made the oven a firepace. It cook mah food too good and now no one gets noms. It do other bad stuffs?”

“Yes it does…and that wasn’t vegetable oil Papyrus, it simply had the same color. That was generator oil and a result of refinement on my part. Unrefined oil, or Crude Oil, is a thick, black, eldritch sludge that kills all it touches. It’s made from the deceased bodies of creatures no one in recorded history has ever seen alive and has lied in wait within the earth’s crust for literally millions of years. That being said, it is unfortunately naturally occurring, and everyone aware of its existence is infatuated with it BECAUSE it’s such a huge power source. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from the public and use it in my experiments as little as possible. It may grant us advanced technology almost immediately, but the things created with it also kill, albeit slowly, meaning you don’t have to come into contact with oil itself in order to become a victim. It’s not evil, but it will take some time before we can figure out a way to use it safely…and keep others from using it poorly.”

Gaster shuddered upon imagining the horror and chaos that would no doubt ensue if ever the monsters were to find out about his discovery. One small mistake is all it would take for Mt Ebott to erupt and annihilate everyone. Even the fire elementals would be destroyed, either drowned in lava or pushed into the barrier and rendered to dust.

“Papyrus, you must promise me that you will keep this a secret. I know it isn’t in your nature to do such a thing, but your life is at stake, along with everyone else’s. That includes Sans, you hear me? I don’t want him knowing about this reservoir less he be tempted to experiment with-PAPYRUS GET OFF THE GENERATOR! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

“UHUHUHUHUHUH!”

SHHHEERRAA!

“dad?”

CLACK!

The baby bones fell to the floor and crawled over to Sans.

“Hey Snas! SNAS!”

“hm?”

“DADDY FOUND OIL!”

“You son of a bitch.”

“cool. don’t play with it.”

“Why?”

“it’s like tar. it’ll make you smell bad and ruin your jammies.”

“Kay’.”

Papyrus used his wingdings to lay, once again, atop the generator.

“Sans, I must ask you to keep this oil reservoir a secret. Despite how desperate the power situation is, oil is not the answer for a civilization living within a volcano.”

“yeah i know about oil dad, i’m not dumb. i read more than space books ya’ know…”

“UHUHUHUHUHUHUH!”

“I’m well aware you know what oil is, I’m just SAYING-”

“NYEAH!”

CLACK!        

Gaster knocked Papyrus off the generator.

“I’m just saying, the temptation is there and it targets both the money-poisoned AND the lazy. There may come a time during an experiment where you feel oil will solve a particular problem, I assure you, it will cause more than it solves. We aren’t the only intelligent beings in the Underground, if you use oil to create something, it’s quite possible an individual will discover the usage through reverse engineering and in turn, wonder where exactly the oil CAME from.”

“NYEHHHHAAAHH!! SUCK-ASS DADDY! SEE THAT BOO BOO? DAT’S THAT BABY ABUSE I’S TALKIN’ BOUT’!”

“I-I didn’t s-see anything…also, what’s ‘oil?”

“ehh, don’t worry about it,” said Sans, thinking quickly. “you don’t eat our food right?”

“Oh, cooking oil…I remember that. It’s made from seeds…”

“Yep! I’s gonna make you something delicious, but I’s out of the cooking oil and baby oil be for baby food, so-”

“Baby oil is for skin,” said Gaster, rubbing his temples.

“Nyeh?”

“Baby oil. It’s for skin. It’s called baby oil because it supposedly makes your skin feel soft like an infant’s.”

What exactly is Sans DOING while I’m busy working? He’s not telling him this stuff as a joke, is he...?

“Nuh-uh Daddy, daz baby lotion! You confused. BABY OIL be for cooking, like baby powder and-”

“Baby powder is also for skin. It is not a type of baking powder NOR is it a baking soda of any sort. You have no business in the kitchen Papyrus.”

“What Baby’s Breath then?”

“Not parsley.”

“Baby spice?”

“That’s a person.”

“Baby fat?”

“Well it’s lard, but-”

“why don’t you just stick with baby potatoes and baby carrots bro?”

“Why don’t you just stay out of the kitchen period? The oven is not a toy and I believe I’ve told you as such already.”

“NO!” cried the baby bones indignantly. “I’s a genius baby and I deserves the best of edgy-cations! LOOK! Look what dis baby has right here!” Papyrus pulled a page, seemingly torn from an old magazine, out of his onesie and presented it to his family. It showed a young human in overalls, a toddler by the looks of it, pretending to cook on a toy kitchen set, plastic spatula in hand.

“aww, duude!”

That human’s so cute! Is that really a baby one? I wanna pet it soo bad! It’d probably bite the shit out of me though…

“hey, napstablook! c’mere and look at this human!”

Shyly, Napstablook floated over to the group and peered over Sans’ shoulder.

“Heh…”

“cute right?”

“It’s got a spatula…it thinks it’s cooking…”

“They not cooking, they’s modeling. They saying ‘look what I has and you doesn’t! Don’t you wish you had a nice baby-kitchen like me?’ They’s mocking!”

“nobody’s mocking you pappy.”

“THEY’S LAUGHING AT ME!”

“i guarantee this baby doesn’t know you exist.”

“Your brother’s right. What’s happening here is you’ve created a personal fantasy out of boredom and forgotten it was a fantasy. Something you need to learn not to do while you’re daydreaming-”

“All I needs to do is show dis baby that I’S the superior bae! Imma be the best cook ever and I’ll use the big people oven to do it! I don’t need their stink rainbow kitchen!”

“…Or perhaps you merely want an excuse to use the oven even though I JUST said no.”  

I asked him to stay out of the Parent magazines to begin with…

Papyrus had an annoying habit of using those particular publications to come up with ideas for “brother-time” with Sans. A time where he would (sometimes quite literally) pick Sans up out of bed and have him do an arts and crafts activity with him, usually involving copious amounts of glue and chemicals Gaster wasn’t sure how he even got ahold of.

Not that the messes were the most obnoxious thing about it, THOSE he could handle. He was used to his smallest making messes.

No, no It was the MIMICRY that the scientist couldn’t stand. Those magazines were to inform parents of why their babies behaved the way they did, but Papyrus would use them as guidelines on “how to be a better baby.”

 “Give me the markers Papyrus!”

“NO! These are MY paint-sticks! I keeps the markers cause’ I saw them first.”

“That’s not how that works, where did you even get that ide-no. Do not. Do not pull out that magazine again, god-DAMNIT Papyrus!”

“It say right here, ‘baes between two and four beweave that da’ person who gets an object first is the rightful owner, even if someone else gets hold of it later’ This be what babies do and I’s a baby, so these markers are mine now.”

“Give me that FUCKING magazine.”

“Is my ucking maggy-zeen.”

“Papyrus…”

“I sawed it first. Is the law.”

Gaster reached for the hated literature, causing the infant to quickly shove it back into his onesie. He then clacked his teeth together twice, a signal that meant any further attempts to get closer would result in a bite.

Because that’s what babies did.

They bit people.

“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! COME GET YOUR BROTHER!

“You’re not using the oven Papyrus.”

“*Sigh* Fine, I gots a solution for dis.” Crawling out of the kitchen, Papyrus headed into the Nursery and towards his toybox. He didn’t have to rummage long, as he was a very organized baby, and soon he found what he was looking for; an only slightly grimy multicolored maraca. He didn’t know why such a gem had been thrown away, but it made the most wonderful sound…

“What is that?” asked Gaster upon seeing his two-year-old reenter the room. The baby held the maraca by the handle with both hands and shook it.

CHACA-CHACA!

“…”

“Is a big-person rattle! I finded it at the Dump and is the bestest treasure ever! I’s gonna save it for when I does something really bad, but I needs that oven, so we trade. I gets to use the oven and you can pay wit mah rattle!”  

“I don’t-”

“Pay not keep.”

“…I don’t need a rattle Papyrus.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Heh heh, your brother swings it like a sledgehammer…”

“well yeah, he’s small.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Stop that.”

“Be mesmerized.”

“I’m not interested Papyrus.”

“HOW YOU NOT INTERESTED IN DIS BIG PERSON RATTLE?” yelled Papyrus, completely baffled. “YOUR BRAIN BROKE!”

“not everyone likes rattles pappy.”

“Your brain broke…or maybe you’s planning to steal mah treasure while I’s napping so you doesn’t have to give up da’ oven!”

“No.”

“I bet you are! You’s gonna wait till I’s asweep in my widdle cwib and then you gonna take my toy and blame it on Snas!”

“No.”

“I bets you’s lying about the oil too! Baby oil be a cooking ingredient for babies, but you don’t likes it when I’s better at things than you, so you try to get baby to use fake cwap like ‘sugar’ and ‘spice.” The infant glared at the wall, remembering the disappointment he felt when he tried to get free sugar from Undyne. He had heard girls were made from sugar and spice, but what he managed to collect (along with a few new cracks in his skull) were scales.

Not delicious.

“You know full well I’m not lying…or you would if you were paying attention-”

“YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT AT DA’ DUMP AND YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT WITH THE OVEN! HOW I SUPPOSED TO GET NUTRIENTS?”

“Just drink your formula, it has everything you need.”

“NO! I needs solids…like these fintstone yummies.” Papyrus pulled out a bottle labeled Flintstone Vitamins. “They looks like rocks, but they shaped like peoples!”

“hmm…” curiously, Sans popped one into his mouth and began to chew. “this one tastes like an orange.”

“Nyeh hee hee hee! Silly Snas, orange be a color, not a food!”

Silly Sans.

“Hmph, It’s a condensed version of Vitamin C most likely. Vitamin C is essential to the formation of collagen, so it should increase one’s bone density, but I doubt you’ll get much out of them.”

“it says vitamin d on it.”

“What? Vitamin D? Give me that bottle!”

“NYEH!”

Gaster snatched up the bottle in one quick motion and studied the label. If Sans hadn’t misread anything, then this was an extraordinary find indeed. Very few foods in nature contained Vitamin D and nature was what everyone depended on in the Underground. The people’s only source of it was found in fish and within the eggs of birds who had accidently flown into Mt. Ebott. Because they were so rare and important as a food source, the security around the areas in which they were bred was even tighter than at the castle. It was rationed carefully and NO ONE got special privileges that allowed more than their fair share due to overpopulation. That meant Gaster couldn’t add as much Vitamin D into Papyrus’s baby formula as he would like.

Eventually something’s going to go wrong and we’ll end up eating nothing but magic supplements.

Magic food wasn’t particularly healthy, not for Horror Fonts anyway. If there was any problem that breed of skeleton had, it was finding the right balance of magic AND basic nutrients. The magic kept their ectoplasm as strong as human muscle so their bones would stay together, but they needed the same vitamins as humans in order to keep those bones from cracking and splintering in the first place. Normal Fonts like he and Sans weren’t fighters, so it wasn’t as important for their bones to be sturdy, but Papyrus was a hunter, which meant tough fights awaited the baby bones when he got older.

He needs more than magic, and we’ve a limited supply as is. Perhaps though, with these, I can find a supplement for the vitamin itself and a way to reproduce it effectively.

“I trade the rock-peoples for da’ oven.”

“N-”    

“And some more baby oil. I’s out of greedy-ants.”

“No. No more using the oven and no more ‘baby ingredients.’ You’re going to destroy this lab along with our kitchen!”

“I dis-gree.”

“bro-”

“You know what I needs? What every baby needs? Ah-structions. I needs a cookie-book. Fetch me a cookie-book, THEN I will succeeds in life.”

Gaster was about to say something, but quickly decided against it. An idea began to form in his mind as he reread the ingredients on the vitamin bottle.

Perhaps this request is a blessing in disguise...

“Papyrus, if I found you a cookbook would you follow the instructions to the letter?” “Course I would!” said the baby bones confidently. “What’s da’ point of ah-structions if I doesn’t follow them? I follow the ah-structions and make good food that Snas will eat.” Papyrus smiled at Napstablook. “You too Boo Boo! I make yummies for eryone!”

The scientist put the bottle in his coat. “Alright then, I will provide for you, a cookbook.”

“YAAAASS!”

“uhh dad, that sounds like a terrible idea,” said Sans, eyeing the ruined oven. “papyrus tends to-”

“Shu up Snas. I happily agwee to yo’ terms, beloved father figure!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Baby will reward your rare act of rationality.”

“Please don’t.”

“I assist! I learned in one of the maggyzines that if you rewards good be-have-ior, peoples will repeat it. This time I find you REAL booger sugar, not baby powder.”

“papyrus-”

“Actually, that would be great. My experiment with the ‘cocaine’ you originally gave me was a complete disaster. Had it worked, I could have created something to reduce hunger in the Underground’s citizens months ago, but you ruined that for everyone. This time I’d like to succeed.”

“ohhh, so that’s what it was for.”

“Of course child, why else would I purchase it? Drugs are for science and science alone!”

“Um…” Napstablook looked behind him nervously.

Should I tell someone about this?

“Remember Papyrus, if you can’t follow a recipe, then you can’t cook that recipe, otherwise it will come out wrong.”

“Kay’.”

Gaster handed a cookbook to his youngest who took it with both hands excitedly and began to flip through it.

“Waz ‘pepper?”

“It’s a type of spice. We don’t have it.”

“What’s ‘vinny-ger?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have that either.”

“i think that’s in urine pa-”

“Really Sans?”

“Ewww, I not using that! Waz ‘rice?”

“It’s a type of grain, we don’t have it in the Underground.”

The baby bones glared at the scientist who was now busy flipping through the pages of his clipboard; the situation beginning to dawn on him.

“We gots onion?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“We gots yeast?”

“*pfft!* i think that’s an infection pappy, are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“I want to see your books Sans.”

“We gots gween beans?”

“Nope, it’s too cold up where they’d need to fall into Mt. Ebott. They need a temperature of at least 50 degrees Fahrenheit to grow.”

“Does we has ANYTHING?”

“If you can’t find a recipe with ingredients we have, perhaps you should search for another cookbook?”

“NYEH!”

Papyrus threw the book.

“…Scu you stink Daddy.”

SHEERRAHH!

Reentering the elevator, Gaster headed up to the main floor. Hopefully he had some refined oil in reserve at the workshop…

“…”

“mm…this may not be a good time bro, but about that cocaine thing. earlier, you called it ‘booger sugar.”

“…”

“you don’t…actually think it’s sugar do you? you didn’t put any in our food?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…pap?”

“Oh noooo…”

Sorry for the wait, I’m renovating my house to move if you recall.

[lovemesomesurveys]

800 questions part 4

151) What’s your favorite TV advert? I don’t have one. I very rarely even pay attention to them.

152) Can you play poker? I’ve never played.

153) If your parents hated your partner you currently loved would you ditch him or carry on with him despite the protests? That would be a really difficult spot to be in. It’s important to me that whomever I date gets along with my family because I’m close to my family. It would be important to me that my family approves as well. I’m not saying I’d immediately kick the person to the curb if they didn’t get along, but it would a problem and I’d want to try and sort things out. I imagine that if my parents had an issue though it’d be for good reason, so I’d want to hear them out. They wouldn’t just start drama for no reason, they’re not like that. And if the guy I was with didn’t like my family, well then the problem lies within him and I’d have to break things off because my parents are awesome, everyone loves them haha.

154) Have you ever been professionally photographed? Yeah, for school photos and pictures my parents had done when I was a kid.

155) Have you ever baked your own cake? Yeah.

156) What’s your favorite fruit pastel color? Maybe I’m too tired cause I’m not quite sure what this is asking, the fruit part is throwing me off, but I love all pastel colors.

157) What traditionally adorns the top of your christmas tree? A pretty light up start.

158) What would be your dream sandwich? If it’s a deli sandwich then turkey, salami, provolone cheese, pickles, mustard, mayo, oil and vinegar, and pesto spread. If at home, then a bologna and sharp cheddar cheese or colby jack with mustard and mayo and olive oil on the side for dipping.

159) Can you impersonate anyone famous? No.

160) Can you do any accents other than your own? Nah.

161) Do you have a strong local accent? I don’t know? I’ve gotten into the whole accent thing quite a bit recently in surveys I’m not going into it again right now.

162) What’s your favorite accent? British and southern accents.

163) In O’s and X’s which do you normally pick? X’s.

164) Do you prefer blue or black inked pens? Black.

165) What was the last thing you recorded off TV? A movie I wanted to watch called Unfriended Dark Web.

166) What was the last thing you dressed up as for fancy dress? A wedding a few years ago.

167) Do you prefer green or red grapes? I don’t think I really cared. I haven’t had grapes in a very long time so I really don’t remember. 

168) What do you like on your toast? Butter or peanut butter.

169) Do you prefer liquid soap or bars of soap? For hand washing I like liquid soap, for showering I like bar soap.

170) How do you have your eggs? Scrambled, usually. I like over-easy as well.

171) What’s your favorite saying? I have a few.

172) Have you ever been in a tug of war? Figuratively speaking, yeah. Also literally when playing that with my doggo. She loves that game.

173) and did you win? My doggo always wins. In the figurative situations, it was in a different way because I was being torn/pulled in different directions.

174) Can you stand on your hands unassisted? Nope.

175) What do you have on your fridge door? Magnets and some coupons for fast food places.

176) Do you love or hate myspace? Myspace died over a decade ago. It was the big thing for awhile though, and I was super into it. 177) Who was the last person to knock/ring at your door? Delivery person.

178) How old were you when you last went trick or treating? I was in high school.

179) Have you ever been bobbing for apples? No. That’s a gross game lol you’re dipping your head and mouth into water other people are dipping their head and mouth into.

180) What’s your most expensive piece of clothing? My Adidas stuff.

181) What’s the last thing you took a picture of? Mostly likely my doggo.

182) What’s the last thing you drew a picture of? I don’t draw.

183) Have you ever bought anything from ebay? Yeah.

184) What’s your favorite smell/scent? I’ve listed them so many times, I don’t feel like it right now.

185) Can you blow bubbles with bubblegum? Sometimes.

186) What was your favorite birthday? Childhood birthdays.

187) Can you curl your tongue? Nope.

188) Is your bellybutton an innie or outie? Innie.

189) What would be your dream car? I don’t have one.

190) Are you left or right handed? Right handed.

191) What was the last book you read? “It’s Not Over” by Willow Rose.

192) What was the last song you danced to? Something I heard on TikTok, probably.

193) Have you ever owned a yo-yo? Yeah, when I was a kid. Never got the hang of it.

194) Have you ever been on a pogo stick? No.

195) Have you ever been on a space hopper? What’s a space hopper?

196) Who was the last person to send you a text message? My mom.

197) Have you ever accidentally injured anyone? I’ve accidentally bumped into people and ran over their foot. :X It hasn’t happened a lot, but there’s been a few times. 

198) Are you scared of spiders? Y E S.

199) Can you down a pint (of anything) in one? No. I can’t chug anything. I’m a slow drinker. I’m a super slow eater. 

200) Have you ever been banned from a public place? No.

[thelioncourts]

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: (eventually) mature words: 5428 for chapter two (2/?); 10116 all together

story summary: If things would have gone the way they were supposed to, Damen and Laurent would have never met. But things didn’t go the way they were supposed to, not at all, and their meeting ended up being the equivalent of skydiving with a malfunctioning parachute. Damen tried not to complain. After all, he was now living his dream; he was travelling with his best friend without having to make sure their “I"s were dotted and their "T"s crossed. And, sure, Laurent was difficult to work with, to work for, but he was also great to look at and they made it work well as long as they were anywhere but in Paris. But when Laurent’s past begins to cause present-day problems, Damen finds out those difficulties Laurent constantly displays were a bit more warranted than he could have ever imagined. And Laurent? Laurent finds out the truth – and finds out how to smile.

“You can practically smell the croissants already,” Damen said as they adjusted their carry-ons over their shoulders and entered terminal 2D of the Charles de Gaulle Airport.

The flight from Berlin to Paris had been two hours long, just long enough for Damen to feel the slightest ache in his legs, and the stretch of walking them to the baggage claim felt refreshing. While Damen talked and chattered, Nik was quiet next to him. His eyes were taking in the bright red of the carpet, the arched glass ceiling, and the hundreds of people surrounding them, some so close they all kept bumping shoulders. None of them lost their stride. Damen wondered if the red of the carpet reminded Nik of the pictures he had been showing Damen on the plane, pictures of past Etoile fashion shows. Red seemed to be one of their favorite colors.

Despite his silence about all this during their stopover in Berlin, Nik had clearly been doing his research in preparation for Paris. Once they had settled into their seats on the plane and the pilot had announced they could unfasten their seatbelts, Nik had pulled out his laptop and said with an edge of excitement, “Do you want to see some of my favorite photos from Etoile’s past shows?”

It turns out, there was a whole lot more to fashion than Damen had ever given any attention to. His head told him ‘Duh, Damen, of course there’s a lot to fashion,’ but it was as though the complete confirmation of that hadn’t hit him until he saw the pictures. Nik seemed to have come to the same realization just days earlier. It had been the main reason for his endless list of saved photos, some cropped and zoomed in to give attention to the embroidered sleeves, the silk waves of scarves, and the jackets all strewn with jewels that glittered differently in angles of light.

“I’m not used to having to pay attention to clothes,” Nik had said before closing the laptop and stuffing it back in its bag. “You barely own a shirt.”

Now, the closer they got to the baggage claim, the looser Damen’s muscles felt and the more that a new excitement settled in instead. It had been a long time since they had gone somewhere unknown to them. He voiced as much.

[Continue on AO3]

“I’m excited about it too,” Nik agreed. His eyes were taking in different things now, scanning the multitude of signs as they wandered and wandered down a seemingly-endless airport with no baggage claim in sight. “Though, to be honest, I don’t know how we’ve never been to Paris.”

“We’ve barely been to France while we’ve travelled,” Damen pointed out. “We’ve only ever been to Nice and I’m pretty sure we went there because we had been in western Italy all the week before.”

“Why haven’t we been here before now?” Nik asked. Without even a break in step, he turned and started another direction with one finger pointing at a welcome and needed ‘Baggage Claim →’ sign above a different area to their right.

Damen didn’t break his step either while he said, “Not sure. I think France has always been not far enough away from home and too close all at once. We couldn’t just take a long weekend here like we could with places close to Greece but it also didn’t seem worth it to plan a long trip here when we could plan a long trip over to the United States to go hiking by the Grand Canyon or to fly down to Australia and hold koalas, you know?”

There were too many people waiting at the baggage claim already, but this was familiar territory after years of travel. Patiently, Damen and Nik waited for their too many bags. Damen’s hands were in his pockets and he was rocking on his heels while listing off a few things he wanted to do while they were here.

“Surprisingly,” he started, “I haven’t planned all that much.”

“Really?” Nik asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Really. I figured it’d probably be best to wait until you find out your schedule. Can’t be making the boss-man angry,” Damen said. Nik rolled his eyes.

Right when Nik was about to come back with a retort, Damen felt a finger poke at his shoulder and turned around to a group of teens, each one with hearts in their eyes.

It wasn’t that uncommon for Damen to get recognized in public settings anymore. Hitting two million followers on Instagram would do that for a person. Luckily for all those that recognized him, he was an easy-going guy, hence him posing with the kids for the video they were filming on their phones. It was a quick thing; the five of them stood around Damen, his height dwarfing them by comparison, and they all – Damen included – smiled wide, all their pearly whites on display while they waved at the camera and the girl holding the phone moved her thumb up and down on the screen, zooming the camera in and out. After another minutes of giggles from the teens, they disappeared, no doubt to immediately go edit the footage, and Damen rejoined Nik to wait for sight of their bags.

“Oh, is the king done mingling with the commoners at last?” Nik mocked.

“Man, I think I’m getting too old for this social media thing,” Damen said, laughing a little. “They’re making a TikTok, or whatever. I thought that was only people dancing? Am I missing something?”

“You know we’ve never been good at keeping up with the trends,” Nik said. “And for guys who rely on social media for their way of living, it’s not the smartest thing we’ve done. Or not done.”

Their bags finally rolled out from behind the curtain of the carousel and Damen stepped forward to heft each bag over toward Nik. They both had two bags on the carousel. Nik had one for his clothes and whatnot while the other held an array of camera equipment. Damen’s, meanwhile, were filled with clothes, products from advertisers, and half of one suitcase was full of workout gear and tubs of preworkout and protein that Damen couldn’t go without. Luckily, a few years ago, they had invested in nice luggage sets that stacked together like puzzle pieces in order to make moving them easier. They also had USB ports in them so they could keep their phones charged at all times.

It was another maze to get to the exit. They got lost once, Damen got stopped by two boys who were also filming a TikTok, and Nik bought an overpriced water for their drive into town all before they finally found the main doors. The doors were thronged with people, with loved ones waiting for family and business moguls waiting for their called cars, and Damen and Nik were talking over the cacophony, so it was a miracle Damen saw what he saw.

“Nik?” Damen asked, pointing over to where a bunch of men in suits were standing, eyes scanning the crowds. In that crowd stood a guy with a sign that read Etoile in fancy script and had Nik’s name underneath.

The man was inconspicuous in appearance, his suit nice but not standout-in-the-crowd-nice. His hair was cropped and a standard shade of brown, he was short and a bit stocky, and the sunglasses on his face only drew attention to his unsmiling mouth. He looked completely average.

Nik turned to Damen and said, “They never said they were sending a car.”

They both approached the man, Nik the slightest bit more hesitant than Damen, and shouldered their way through the crowd until they could stand in front of him. Behind the sunglasses, they could see his eyes jump from Nik to Damen then back to Damen before he asked in accented English, “Are you Nik?”

“I am,” Nik said after a beat.

“My name is Jord. Etoile has sent for me to escort you to our head office before then taking you to your hotel. I have been informed that you may be tired from your journey and may wish to go directly to your hotel instead. That can be done as well.”

“I’m going to Etoile already?” Nik asked.

“The owner likes to make connections with his possible hires as soon as possible,” Jord said, moving to fold the sign up. Damen stopped him with a hand out and the man eyed him cautiously still behind dark glasses.

“Can I keep that?”

The man kept a cautious eye on Damen even as he handed the sign to him and Damen, feeling Nik’s gaze, said, “We have to document this, Nik.”

“Well, we’ve only just come from Berlin, so it wasn’t a long journey. I’d be glad to go right over,” Nik said in response to Jord, bringing the conversation back around. “Is that okay with you, Damen?”

“Absolutely.”

“Wonderful,” Jord said, sounding like it was anything but that. “Follow me, please.”

The car was just outside the main doors, surrounded by dark taxi cars, a few buses, and several drivers from phone apps. The car, however, wasn’t so much a car. It was a sleek black Rolls Royce instead, the true standout in a crowd like this. Damen raised both eyebrows appreciatively at it before sliding into the seat through the open back passenger door. Nik followed, a quieter kind of awe on his face, and Jord closed the door behind them before they heard and felt the luggage being loaded into the trunk.

“This is crazy, Nik,” Damen said. The interior of the car was all a soft black leather and there was plenty of room for the both of them to stretch their legs out, something that was no small feat for two men several inches over six feet tall.

“They sent a car,” Nik said. His right hand couldn’t stop touching the seat underneath him.

“And not some shitty car. They sent the nicest car we’ve ever sat in that wasn’t at an Italian car show,” Damen said.

Jord was getting in the driver’s seat now, sunglasses still firmly in place, and he adjusted the rearview mirror before asking, “Is there anything I can get the two of you before we leave?”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” Nik said after a beat. The fact seemed to have just dawned on him, perhaps when he took in how his black joggers looked next to the car’s interior, and Damen was in no better shape with a pair of slide-on shoes and a baggy neon orange sweatshirt.

“It won’t be a problem,” Jord said and he started the car, the engine purring as it came to life. “As long as you know what you’re doing with a camera, it won’t matter what you look or dress like.”

The drive from the Charles de Gaulle Airport to the heart of Paris was a hair over thirty minutes. It was just long enough for Damen and Nik to sit on the edge of the too-nice seats in the car and take in the sights. At first, it started like most drives near or in a big city: surrounded by a bunch of cars and monotonous buildings. But the closer they got, the more that ‘real’ feeling started to sink in. When they set sight on the first Parisian landmark, a statue that was too far away to read the plaque, Damen smacked Nik with the back of his hand and said, “Welcome to your new home for the next month.”

Sights started to get more and more recognizable. When they turned onto Rue de Rivoli, the Seine came into view. It was wider than it looked in pictures and it was impossible to decide if it was worth it to spend more time looking at the blue of the water or the beautiful French architecture all around them.

“We definitely have to plan something there,” Nik said, a sort of awe in his voice as he pointed to the Louvre. The pyramid was just visible enough to see the sunlight bounce from its glass.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity,” Jord said. The car turned left down Rue de l’Amiral de Coligny. “Etoile’s building is just next to the museum, right outside the Tuileries Garden.”

“Wait, we’re almost there?”

Jord only hummed, the sound just loud enough to reach Damen and Nik’s ears, and then they were on Quai Franςois Mitterand and the Seine was practically at their fingertips. They were both leaning forward in their seats again, taking in the boats touring the river, the people sitting on the river’s edge, and the buildings across the river all framed by the sun. They felt the car ease to a stop.

The Tuileries Gardens were bright green. The flowers weren’t yet in bloom, the weather was too cold for that, but it was still beautiful in its contrast against the uniform color of all the surrounding Parisian buildings. But more eye catching than the gardens was the Etoile headquarters directly to the car’s right. The building went with everything else in Paris, its color a neutral cream, its design recognizably Haussmanian. It stood out though with its added ornamentation, the building busy even if lacking in colors. And right above the door was a sign in script writing, the letters enormous and undeniable: Etoile.

“Well,” Damen started, and he pulled his eyes away from the building to look at Nik expectantly.

“Well,” Nik repeated.

Jord had already gotten out and rounded the car to open the door before Nik even thought about unclenching his fist still holding onto his carry on. With a deep breath, Nik got out and smoothed down his shirt.

“You’re going to be fine in there, Nik,” Damen said reassuringly. He was still sitting in the car, one arm over the seat where Nik had just been, and he was flashing his biggest smile. “Can’t wait to hear about it when you get out.”

“Actually,” Jord interrupted whilst still holding the door wide open, “it’s been requested that you join.”

“Me?”

“Potential hires are looked through thoroughly for both professional and personal purposes,” Jord explained. “As you are in most of the photographs that were sent in for review, it was decided that you would be an important person to meet as well. Of course, if you’re opposed, you can wait in the lobby.”

“What do you think, Nik? This is your thing.”

“I’d like you there,” Nik said. “If you’ve been asked for personally, I don’t have any reason not to have you there.”

“And I’m your best friend in the whole world so you want me there for support,” Damen said, filling in the obvious gaps in Nik’s reasoning.

Jord led the way inside.

Though the outside was the same cream color as the other buildings around, probably due to a city restriction, the inside was like entering an entirely different universe. The floors were marble, a real marble that made everything from voices to footsteps echo, and right at the center, just in front of the desk where two beautiful secretaries sat on their phones whilst typing at a maddening pace on their computers, was a gold inlay, its design immaculate swirls and crossed lines. It was a labyrinth of busyness and it wasn’t calmed down or contrasted by an unbusy surrounding. No, instead the walls – which were white, yes, but – were brimming, overflowing, with solid gold decoration that covered every inch. Each arcaded window had a foot of gold surrounding its edges, the designs cherubs and flowers and muses like the palaces of old. There were a dozen gold gilded statues around the room that matched the gold gilded paneling taking up most of the walls’ space. None of it, however, compared to the chandelier hanging from the center, the piece looking like the one out of The Phantom of the Opera.

Damen and Nik shared a look that said everything. Jord was walking forward without hesitation and they followed as close behind as they could, trying not to get too distracted by their surroundings. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of walking, they reached the elevators which also, to no surprise now, were decorated all in gold.

“Take the elevator to the top floor. Someone will greet you and escort you to the owner’s office,” Jord said. He went to turn, his sunglasses reflecting all the gold in the room back in Damen and Nik’s face, when Nik asked, “What about our bags?”

“I will be taking your bags to your hotel,” Jord said. “And yes, your hotel has been arranged and paid for already. Once you are done, I will be here to pick you up and bring you there.”

Damen and Nik shared another look before Damen said, “Thank you very much, Jord. You’ve been a great help to us.”

Jord seemed hesitant to do anything for a moment and even more hesitant to say anything, so after an awkward pause he nodded curtly and turned the way they had come.

The elevator had a mirrored ceiling inside and it glittered the gold inlay of the floor back up. Nik hit the button that was above all the others, the one to take them to the top floor, and then Damen and Nik both sighed in unison.

“Are you feeling claustrophobic?” Damen asked. “I’m feeling claustrophobic.”

“I knew they used a lot of designs on their clothing,” Nik started, “but I didn’t think that would transfer to the building as well.”

“You ready for this?”

“Not much I could do right now if I wasn’t,” Nik said.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I’ll be fine.”

They reached the top floor soon enough and this floor wasn’t much different from the main one. In other words, it was busy and overwhelming. There was a desk directly in front of the elevator doors, a smaller desk than the one on the main floor, but it sat empty. The mirrored panelling of the desk showed just how much Damen and Nik’s sweatpants went against everything Etoile stood for. To the right was a narrow hallway and to the left was another and, for a minute, Damen and Nik looked back and forth between the two, looking for a sign. It felt like the airport all over again.

It was just when they had decided to go to the right that a child came around the corner.

‘Child’ was the best word for him for he didn’t look a day over twelve, even if he was dressed like a little adult. He had a mess of artfully wavy brown hair and a stunning pair of blue eyes that matched the sapphires around the necklace on his throat. There was a shimmer to his eyelids, a golden glitter that went well with the actual gold glitter covering the jacket so big he appeared to be swimming in it. He was a beautiful child and he would have been more beautiful if his face didn’t have such a distasteful expression on it.

The child had stopped when he saw Damen and Nik and once they had taken him in and he them, the child scoffed and said in a voice clearer than a bell, “Les bêtes envahissent la ville, je vois,” before continuing to walk in a way that said this was definitely not worth his time.

Damen couldn’t help but laugh, the sound drawing both Nik and the child’s attention to him. “Les bêtes sont là pour voir le propriétaire de l'Etoile. Savez-vous où nous pourrions le trouver?”

The child’s face grew pale, if only for just a moment, before he recomposed himself. “This way,” he said with agitation, not pausing to ensure they were following him before he went down the left hallway. At the end of the hallway was a huge door, one that screamed of importance.

Damen and Nik expected the child to knock on the grand door that was clearly the entrance to the main office, but the child went in without a care.

“You have visitors,” the child said.

They couldn’t see the man, but they could see the top of his head. He was in a tall chair, large enough to be a throne, and the back of it was facing them as he typed away at the computer. If he had heard the child, he didn’t pay him any mind, but the child didn’t seem to be bothered. Instead, he stepped up to the desk, plucked a red lollipop from a gold gilded bowl, and left without another word or a spared glance in Damen and Nik’s direction.

“Assieds-toi.” The man’s voice was deep, a rumble in the delicacy of the room, and Nik turned to Damen for guidance. Damen, silently, pointed at the two chairs in front of the desk and they both sat down, listening to the clicking of the keys on the keyboard and the tapping of Nik’s toe on the ground.

Damen decided to give all his attention to the ticking clock on the wall. It was both to keep the time and to also try to figure out just how a clock could have so many things going on with it: an opal face, gold numbers, jewel encrusted hands, and Damen didn’t even know where to begin with the outside of it. Still, it was how he knew exactly three minutes and twelve seconds could feel like an eternity. Luckily, that was when the man turned around in his seat and smiled at them openly.

He didn’t look like what Damen thought a fashion designer and modeling agency owner would look like but, then again, Damen supposed he had never given much thought to what a fashion designer and modeling agency owner would look like in the first place.

The man was large; he had a broad chest and shoulders to match and Damen guessed that if he were to stand, he would be close to Damen’s own height. His hair was dark and neat and his beard full, if sprinkled with just enough gray to make him look dignified. His suit was dark and made him look regal, someone who would draw the eye and demand respect.

When he stood, it confirmed what Damen had thought about the man’s height, but it was hard to give that much mind when his smile went up to his blue eyes. “Bonjour bonjour. Bienvenue à Paris.” He must have seen something on Damen and Nik’s faces, especially Nik’s face, because he quickly came back with, “L'anglais serait-il un meilleur terrain d'entente pour nous? J'ai peur de ne pas parler grec.”

“English would be great, thank you,” Damen said, smiling at the smallest expression of relief on Nik’s face.

“Of course,” the man said agreeably and then he leaned forward, hand out. “And you must be our talented photographer, Nik.” The two of them shook hands.

“I am. Nik, that is. Thank you for having me. Us. It’s an honor just to be here.”

“We here at Etoile are honored to have you.” The man turned to Damen. “And you must be Damen.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen said, shaking the man’s hand. His grip was strong, his fingers rough. “Paris has been wonderful to us already and we’ve only been here an hour.”

Everything was all polite smiles as they each sat back down and adjusted into the chairs. The man had his fingers clasped together on the deeply rich colored desk and his eyes fell to Nik. “Do you prefer to go by Nik or is there something else you’d like to be called?”

“Nik is fine. It’s less of a mouthful than Nikandros.”

“Indeed, it is.” The man laughed just a bit. “So, Nik, I have to say that all of us here at Etoile, myself especially, were incredibly impressed with your portfolio.”

“Thank you,” Nik said genuinely. Damen could already see Nik’s shoulders dropping their tension, even if just a little.

“We normally receive applications from fashion photographers, people who live in the business of finding the perfect shots to display clothing made of every kind of fabric, clothing cut into every kind of style. It isn’t often we look over action shots of people surfing,” he said, motioning over to Damen, “or pictures of the stars over a desert. It was a nice change of pace. This brings me to two questions I have for you, Nik. The first is simply to sate my own curiosity: what drove you to want to photograph Paris Fashion Week? The second question, if you wouldn’t mind, is the question of how you came into the opportunity to photograph all around the world? It’s astonishing, especially for a photographer so young.”

“Well,” Nik said after a deep breath, “to answer your first question, I can say that fashion shows were never a thought, not until I started to meet other photographers as we travelled over the years. There was a photographer, from France actually, that we befriended while in Norway a few years back and last year he was given the opportunity to shoot for Silversio and he said he learned so much. I’ve been expanding my photography more and more as the years have gone on and I thought that this would be another great way to expand my art.”

“That’s quite a drive you have.”

“I owe a lot of it to Damen,” Nik continued, moving onto the second question. “When we were children, we made a pact to spend our gap year travelling the world together. We wanted to climb mountains and see every ocean. The older we got, the more I wanted to skip gap year all together and go straight into working for my family. But Damen convinced me of the worth held in our planned gap year and I realized one year wouldn’t cause me any harm and I would have hated myself for not giving it a chance. But our one year got ahead of us in terms of our social media. We started all of our accounts as a way to document the year. We never guessed it would turn into what it did and what it has.”

“I think congratulations are very deserved for all that you’ve accomplished. I’m assuming this means you’re a self-taught photographer as well?”

“Yes.”

The man hummed, the sound not unpleasant, just thoughtful, and after a pause as though to collect his thoughts, he turned his attention to Damen. “And I believe a congratulations should be given to you as well. Nik here has quite a talent with a camera, but from what I have seen, your charisma is remarkable. It explains much of your success, I would think.”

“Damen could rally himself an army if he wanted to,” Nik said.

“Charisma is everything in this world,” the man said. “You need it to survive.”

Damen smiled the smile he gave in pictures. The man smiled back and clasped his hands together again.

“I don’t want to keep you two any longer than necessary, I’m sure you would like to rest, and I have a few more meetings to attend before my day is over. The reason I asked for you to come meet me as soon as you arrived was to explain how the first part of this is going to go.” He plucked a folder from a small and neat pile on his desk and handed it over to Nik. Even the folders here looked expensive, Etoile’s fancy script all over the front. “In two days’ time we will begin our first photoshoot. I’ve learned over the years of building and perfecting Etoile that the best shows were shot by photographers who had a relationship with the models. This photoshoot will give you the opportunity to begin building those relationships. The clothing line you will be shooting is our new “Gold Label” line. It’s much different than anything we’ll be premiering at fashion week.” Inside the folder was an itinerary and an array of photographs of the most important pieces in this specific line of clothing. “The photoshoot is scheduled for three days. This is to ensure that each of the photographers have plenty of time to shoot with the group and to work with the individual models. There will be five photographers there, but only three of you will be going to fashion week.” He turned to Nik and smiled that same open smile. “Nothing like a little friendly competition.”

“And that’s all we’ll be doing before the actual show?”

“Yes. I will then be giving you the rest of the week to put together your shots from the photoshoot in order to present them to me. From there, a decision will be made on which photographers will be staying with us. Then you’ll have a week before the show to further prepare for the big event. Are there any questions about that?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“Well then, I believe we are settled here.” He stood up from his desk promptly, a physical end to the quick meeting, and Damen and Nik stood to follow him to the door. “Inside the folder are phone numbers for Jord whom you’ve already met and a few of my other men. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call them during your time here in Paris.”

“Thank you,” Nik said, shaking his hand once more, “for the opportunity and your generosity.”

“Yes, thank you,” Damen repeated.

“Of course, gentlemen. I’m looking forward to what this week will bring.”

They passed the child again as they were leaving. The lollipop was down to almost nothing on the stick and he watched them near predatorily, a finger twirling the gem attached to the zipper of his jacket.

“Bonne soirée,” Damen said with a wave.

The child flipped them off, his painted nail glittering.

Once they were downstairs, it was a quick journey to the hotel they had been put up in. The hotel was located in an old palace just across the river. Sadly, they were one building behind a river front view, but neither could care, not when the view itself was another bustling Parisian apartment complex that radiated life and sophistication, its inhabitants clearly upper class.

They were on the fifth floor and their room was spacious and decorated much more simplistically than anything Etoile could dream up. It was appreciated after the blinding display of wealth and ornamentation. The cream-colored walls matched the exterior of all the iconic Haussman buildings and the arched window and doorways gave it the elegance so expected from something in this part of Paris. The gaudiest thing were the curtains and Damen and Nik were quick to pull those back and secure them. After all, they blocked the best part of the room, the terrace overlooking the street.

They spent the next two hours taking turns showering the plane off of them, unpacking all their things, ordering room service, and chatting away about the things they couldn’t say earlier.

“What was with the kid?” Nik asked as he folded another shirt and put it in a drawer.

“I don’t know,” Damen said. “Maybe he’s one of the models.”

“He’s a little young to be a model,” Nik said.

“He was dressed like one.”

“He looked twelve.”

“Well the kid doesn’t matter. What matters is that the meeting went really well. He seems to like you,” Damen said.

“I’m not sure,” Nik said.

Damen rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with that.”

“I didn’t start anything.”

“What also matters,” Damen interrupted, “is that I could very much get used to this.”

He was standing at the open entrance of the terrace. The terrace itself was just large enough to fit a small table and two chairs, perfect for early morning coffee or relaxing at night. At the other building, the one just across, were other terraces full of people doing just that as the sun slowly began to fall over the city. On the streets were people all bundled as the nighttime temperatures began to settle in. Best of all, on the terrace table was a bottle of wine, a nice deep red, with Etoile’s script signature and a note from the owner himself bidding them, yet again, a welcome to Paris.

“I bet you could,” Nik said. He was already grabbing the available bottle opener. “I’m the one doing all the work.”

[cherryblossomdokis]

Hi!! I saw you ship with TW and I was wondering who you shipped with and if you had any headcanon (○´3｀)ﾉ⌒♡*:･。.

Oh wow my first ever question! ;7; how exciting! Well to help explain I put together a little tier list ;v; (bc for some reason I’m really complicated with who I ship with honestly ;;; )

I am like a hopeless romantic in a sense, so tbh I kinda have a crush on a lot of these characters, but with these tiers I’ve organized it for who has the most hearts and who has the least. Starting from top to bottom:

6 Hearts: Starting at 6 hearts we have Jade and Deuce! I really like Jade’s gentlemanly personality and Deuce’s delinquent persona when he gets protective over friends is (b ^ v ^ )b (needless to say, characters with that protective flare are my fav;; )

5 Hearts: Riddle & Azul also has that sort of gentlemanly side like Jade, and I really like Trey’s supportive big brother type of personality. Ace is a big ol’ dork who reminds me a bit of Hanako from Jibaku Shōnen Hanako-kun, so he has that sort of ‘teasing’ personality. Jack is a good doggo boy! ^o^ He honestly could lean more towards the 6 hearts tier since he’s a strong who protects the weak! (thus +protective points) Floyd’s kind of a wild card haha ;; 

4 Hearts: It’s Idia and Lilia! (hey it rhymes haha) These two are here cause a majority of stories I’ve read for them have been pretty good! So they’ve given me a pretty positive and appealing side to them even though we don’t know that much about them from the main story ;; But I find Idia’s Otaku nature funny as someone whose admittedly kinda weeby, and Lilia’s mysteriousness and his general playful like nature is interesting too!

3 Hearts: Tadaa it’s Cater, Ruggie, and Epel! On a romantic scale I’m not particularly sure how I feel about them (unless I read a really good imagine or story involving them;; ) Cater has a fun personality and Ruggie has the same kind of teasing personality like Ace but just a bit more mischievous, and Epel is just a country boy that wants to be strong! If I had to put it simply, I suppose it’s just that I want to help support their endeavors I think-? :0

2 Hearts: Kalim, Jamil, and Leona. I like them all, but I guess romantically I’m not sure-? It always depends on what kind of good story I find for them, but sometimes for these three I think it’s works a lil more as good friends but could still work romantically. 

1: Heart: oh my there’s no one here :0 yet;;

Haven’t figured you out yet: These are the characters who, I don’t really know how to like because there isn’t a lot of mainline stuff for me to go off of, or from multiple different stories I’ve read (everyone has a different portrayal of a character that makes it difficult to like like) Chenya goes here too haha ;;

????: Ortho is a baby boy, Grim & Lucius are cat, and I view most of the teachers kinda like dad/grandpa/uncle figures ;; 

A lot of these could vary and change, mostly due to whatever mainline content we get from the game, and from whatever stories I read from other people! ;7; (Trust me I’ve read a lot of stories where it makes me start to consider shipping with a brand new character I hadn’t considered before xD)

I suppose it might be strange(?) to like these many characters (what we get more RSA and the 4th years I don’t know what I’ll do xo more characters to crush on-? Oh dear-!) But if it helps I guess it’d be easier to view it in a reverse harem type of light ;v; 

But in terms of headcannons-? Well, I don’t particularly have any yet ^^; However I do have some stories I’ve written on the side (they’re more so like fun stories then shipping) but they’ll need some reworking before I get the courage to post them ;v;

[writing-appreciation]

His Legacy

Paring: Peter Parker X Stark!Reader X Platonic!Harley

Warnings: ☡ ENDGAME SPOILERS ☡, Slight language

Synopsis: The reader is concerned for Peter becoming the "new Ironman."

GIF NOT MINE: @tomhollandnet

DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN ENDGAME: FINAL WARNING!!

He was distraught. We all were. Anthony Stark's sacrifice destroyed us all in many ways.

Pepper lost the man she loved.

Morgan and I lost our father.

Rhodes lost his best friend.

But Peter. Peter lost his second father figure. And that hurt him in ways that his Uncle Ben's death didn't.

I was depressed for a couple weeks. Part of me felt that it was my fault. I helped Tony figure out how to fix the snag in the Time Heist.

--Flash Back--

"D'you want washing or drying?" He asked me as we both apprached the sink.

"Drying, definitely drying." I responded, already picking up the dish towel.

"Alright, but if you accidentally end up soaking, don't be complaining to me about it later."

And a few minutes later, he did "accidentally" spray water on me, the ceiling, and a collection of photos near us.

"Dad! Ugh, I'll get the mop." I carefully walked away.

He just smiled and looked at the photos. First observing a picture of his father. Then he pulled a different photo from behind it, taking the time to gently wipe away the water droplets on the frame. He looked hurt.

I walked back over to mess. I managed to sneakily catch a glance at what photo he had: the one of him and Peter getting his "internship."

It made me want to cry. I know he felt bad about Peter dying. It's just the way dad rolled. Everything is his fault.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to look into the calculations about Scott's Time Heist." I slowly suggested, now staring at the photo of Peter smiling. I missed him.

My dad constantly teased us on "being oblivious to one anothers' feelings." Feelings or not, I knew I missed him. When dad told me he hadn't made it, we both cried for an hour.

"What did I tell you about easedropping young lady?" He feigned suprise. He took a deep breath and cleared his voice of any emotion other than sarcasm.

He wrapped his left arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

" It's too bad you suck at quantum mechanics too badly to help with any of it."

I scoffed at his insult, knowing I was fully capable of keeping up. I was a Stark, it's in my blood.

So we went to work. Busting out every computation of every calculation we could think of.

"This is impossible. I told them Tiny's stupid hesit is physically impossible."

I chuckled at his codename for Scott. It helped relieve some of the tension in the room.

"Okay, so the calculus works, we can agree on that?"

He nodded.

"So we just need a workable shape to bend time around and to morph ourselves around?"

I layed my face in my hands and thought of the shapes we hadn't tested yet.

"Yes, Einstein, we do. But We've tried every geometrical postulate imaginable. I'm sorry kid, it's not hap..."

"Mobius strip." I whipped my head out of my hands and looked at him.

"FRI, can you run the calculations with the Mobius strip?" He asked, desperation clinging to his voice.

I didn't have the energy to make some snarky remark on how he took my idea. I just wanted to see if it worked

I moved to where my dad was standing, also waiting with anticipation. I felt him glance at me. He wanted this to work because he knew I needed it to work.

The moment we saw the green loop appear around the stip we both fell backwords into our seats.

"Shit." Be both said in unison, stares not breaking from the display.

"Shit!" We heard a little voice behind us.

We turned around to see Morgan happily sitting on the stairs, watching us.

Dad made some quippy remark about having important shit to do, which caused Morgan to frown/smile. He then took her up to bed, but not before getting them icepops.

I turned back to the display. The green line still surprised me. I half expected it to disappear in the time we looked away.

This was gonna work. We were going to get them back.

-------

I blamed myself for it. I should've just let it go. We were happy. We had a family. We were good.

But then I remember the billions who dusted away. It was the right thing to do. It just hurts.

But Peter's pain was significantly worse. He was hard to trust. After Ben's death, he found it hard to trust people, especially any father-figure he became close to. Understandably dad's death destroyed his limited trust capacity.

We could tell it was destroying him, Happy and I. We saw it firsthand.

Fury was pushing Peter. What with his constant calls, and even him hijacking our Summer vacation. Fury wanted the new Ironman and he was deadset on it being Peter.

It made me mad a first. Fury believed I was envious of the offer being given to Peter. But it was more concern than envy. Peter was Spiderman, not Ironman. He can't be both. And nobody could ever replace my dad

Plus people overlooked the obvious choice here: Harley Keener.

He was 16, and a new student to Midtown Tech. He was the perfect choice to carry on dad's legacy. It's not like Harley had other heroic prior commitments like Peter or I did. Plus we got along great.

My dad connected us one year when we all went down to vacation in Tennessee and met his family. I immediately gravitated to Harley. Seeing as he was only one year older than me, a sort of summer fling also sprouted between us. It ended on good terms. We kept in touch, agreed to hang out every once in a while, and had a fun tendency to provoke my dad.

But when I apprached Fury about this he struck it down before I even got to mention Harley. He insisted that Peter become the new Ironman. Which was weird.

The next step was to try to convince Peter which I felt wouldn't be too difficult. He was cracking under the pressure.

But seeing as we were currently going head to head with a giant water monster in London, I figured it'd be best to table the the discussion for a later time.

So we did. Just at a different time when Harley showed up at the rebuilt HQ (the old Stark/Avengers tower) just after we got back from vacation. It was 9:30 and we both just wanted to sleep for days.

Peter went into full defense mode the moment he saw Harley sitting in the corner. In Peter's defence, Harley did look pretty shady.

The whole squabble was resolved when I pushed past Peter and welcomed Harley with open arms.

"Hey, if it isn't my second favourite Stark!" He exclaimed as we embraced.

Though he kept it silent, I could sense Peter's jealousy.

"Hey, Keener, nice suprise, but what are you doing here?"

"Well, I thought we were going to talk to Fury today, so I just figured I would come in. I heard you guys were getting back today." He smiled.

I smiled back. It was truly nice to see him again. The last time I saw him as a few days after the Funeral when he dropped the news that he'd be attending Midtown Tech. I wasn't exactly a happy time, but it was mosty better now.

"Um, I'm sorry, but can you please explain who this dude is, (Y/n)?" Peter broke our little bubble of joy.

I noticed Peter even gave Harley a side glance of disgust and distrust. This should be interesting.

"Peter, play nice. This is one of my old friends, Harley Keener. I'm not sure you two met at the funeral, but basically he was a fellow mentee my dad sort of trained. He just moved here, and he'll be a Junior at Midtown Tech in a couple weeks." I politely explained to the disgruntled Spiderboy.

"And she wants me to be Ironlad."

Oh, this can't be good.

"Ironlad?" Peter questioned, now meeting Harley's gaze. Posture suddenly taller. Was he challenging Harley?

"Yeah, (Y/n) here called me about it a while back. I already have prints for a suit and she said she'd help me with it." He replied rather egotistically.

Peter looked hurt. He looked to me and back to Harley with definative anger. He began to walk away.

I quickly hit Harley's arm in frustration.

"What the hell, Keener? I was going to tell him gingerly!" I whisper-yelled at him as I began to follow Peter. He started to suit up.

"Peter." I called to him.

"Peter!" I called a little louder.

"Peter Parker!" I jogged up to meet his fast paced walk and pulled his arm.

He pulled away forcefully. He looked pained. His eyes were showing early signs of crying, but his actions showed anger.

"Leave me alone, (Y/n)." He proceeded to walk briskly to the edge of an open window.

I followed him to the edge.

We made brief eye contact before he jumped out.

"Spidey, don't make me do this!" I shouted in his direction.

No response.

"Alright, he forced my hand." I muttered to myself.

"FRIDAY, do me a favor and don't send my suit after me, okay?" I asked the A.I, knowing she'd be listning.

So I jumped out. Completely suitless. Pepper was going to kill me.

Either I end up on th street as a not so pretty decoration, or Peter'd save me. We'll find out soon enough.

I felt the wind swishing through my hair and my clothes puffing in weird directions around me. I saw the points on the ground becoming more clear. I was getting to close for comfort. This was it. Peter was actually going to let me die because he's mad at me. Talk about petty.

Suddenly I felt a familiar tug on the back of my shirt. He really waited until the last last second to web me up.

I braced myself for the intense g-force I'd experience while being pulled back to the sky.

Before I knew it, Peter and I stood on the roof of a building near the tower.

"Do us a favor and don't throw yourself off of any more buildings." He said not even prying his eyes off of the ground. He was about to take off again.

"Peter Parker, I will keep launching myself off of buildings until you and I talk!" I yell at him.

He looked at me like I was insane. Which, jury's out on that one. I might be.

"What." He stated, again not looking at me.

"You can't be the next Ironman." I said simply.

This caused him to look up. Again, he looked like I just told him the worst news in the world.

"Peter, you can't be the next Ironman because nobody can be the next Ironman. He's irreplaceable." My voice began to crack. I was definitely going to cry. No preventing that.

"Tony Stark was an enigma. He was the best and worst man. Did I ever tell you the reason he took on Scott's Time Heist was because he looked at a picture of you two? Peter, he wanted you to live, not to crack under the pressure of being the next Ironman. If he could see you now, he'd..."

"Hey, (N/n)," He began to interrupt. But I wasn't having any of it.

"Peter, I don't even know what he'd do, but I just know he would disapprove of you trying so desperately to be the 'new Ironman.' Damn what Fury says, all he cares about is finding replacements! He wants you because he knows he can control you. Hell, he already replaced Natasha with another former assassin. He doesn't care about our wellbeing. I just know you would've been too excited to recognize you were being used, so I thought if I brought Harley in, he'd help me show my point. Peter, trust me he's great, and..."

Peter shut me up by pulling me into a tight hug and shushing me. This caused me to let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in.

"I get it. I miss him too. And you know he wouldn't want to be jumping off of buildings." I felt his chest vibrations. They were oddly soothing.

"Excuse you Peter, he's the one who taught me that trick." I smiled and sniffled. He wiped my tears away and just held my face.

"Uhmh."

We both jolted around to see Harley, now decked out in his Mark I Ironlad suit.

"I hate to break up this tender moment my ex and my soon to be best friend are having, but you guys SUCK at the whole secret identity thing."

"Ex? So you two have a history?" Peter asked, looking at me awkwardly.

"I was 14, I had bad judgement."

This caused an offended noise to leave Harley's mouth, but a laugh to exit Peter's.

Yep, these two were going to be good friends.

"Alright, we should probably all head home and sleep. School starts soon." I, being the mature teenager I am, suggested.

Harley took off.

Which left me and Peter on a roof.

"So..."

"So." I smirked. "You should probably get going. May's gonna be worried."

"Yeah, well sure, but do you like need a lift or..?" His question trailed off. Suddenly it clicked when my dad would tease him about being awkward with me. Does Peter Parker like me?

Instead of a response, I tapped the edge of my glasses and watched Peter watch as my suit began flying out the tower and to me.

"I'll be fine, Parker." I smiled, though it was hidden from him.

"Tell May I said hey." And I took off towards our house.

When I landed Pepper was out, waiting for me.

I tapped the edge of my helmet and the suit began to return to its nano form.

"What's this I hear about you jumping out of the tower?!" She yells at me, obviously playfully.

"What? I needed a way to get Peter's attention." I breezed past her.

"I swear you are jus like your father! You're aging me prematurely."

"How premature can it be?" I quip back sarcastically.

I hear an offended gasp followed by a chuckle.

I went up to my room, deciding I was too tired to take a shower. I just wanted to go to bed. So I proceed with my Nighttime routine and in no time was cozy in bed.

My window curtains were drawn back. As I began to close my eyes, I swear I saw the outline of the infamous red snd blue suit watching me...

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and sent a quick text to Peter.

He almost fell from the roof he was on. But recovered quickly. He stood and waved goodbye as he swung off into the night.

PETER'S POV

I just wanted to make sure they made it home alright. I knew Mr. Stark would never let me live it down if I didn't. Besides, I knew they were beat after the vacation, so I was afraid they would mess up the directions home, or something; but part of me just wanted to see them one more time before I called it a night. So I sat on a roof parallel to their bedroom window.

I waited until they got into their bed, and was tucked under the covers. They looked ready to go to bed, but they suddenly grabbed their phone off their nightstand.

I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out, suspecting it was them.

'My hero, making sure I got home safely. Go get some sleep Peter, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight x.'

I slipped when I read it. The 'x', that meant a kiss, right? Oh my God. They called me their hero. This is so much to take in.

I looked up again to see their beautiful (E/c) eyes one more time and waved them goodbye.

I jumped off of the roof and began swinging home, thinking about what adventure we'll have tomorrow. Hopefully a good one.

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

A/N: Hey, so here's a thing. I got the inspiration of the Far From Home Trailer. I'm trying to get rid of some of my lost Endgame depression, but this actually made it worse wow.

Anyway, hope you enoyed this crappily slopped together thing I wrote during school.

[hcartcycs]

- happy together ;

ship : you’re the one i wanna go through time with - peter maximoff x self insert ( em / emily ) word count : 2 331 ( if u actually read this i’ll die for u ) note : i love him so much i went unhinged i spent the entire day on this so if any of u read this i’d be the happiest dumbass in the world

( under the cut for length ! )

“Wanna sleep over?”

The question had slipped out seemingly by itself as Peter stared down at Emily from his doorframe. He was always fast-paced, if it was anyone else standing in Emily’s spot right now, he’d have already slammed the door shut and focused on fidgeting with whatever he had in his room. But she was here now and he was willing to slow down as long as he could match her. And now, having spent the day together, walking around town (albeit a bit too slow for him, he was still having fun, to his surprise), it was theoretically time for them to go back to their rooms. There was a small problem though, Peter didn’t really want to go his own way, even if it was just for a night. He didn’t want to annoy Emily either, but the need to be close to her overpowered him this time, prompting the sudden question.

“O- Oh.” Emily looked down, averting her gaze from Peter’s and rubbing her arm awkwardly. “Me?”

“There’s no one else in this hall, sweets.” In a sudden, he zipped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and chin placed delicately on her shoulder. “I wanna…be with you, you know?”

Emily’s face went scarlet red, still not used to Peter’s affectionate behavior. She loved it, of course, but it was more than she was used to, which made her nervous, which made her throat close up every time he did something like this. As much as she would’ve loved to sing him a serenade, she found such out there acts more difficult to do than she had previously imagined.

“I mean, if you’d rather not-”

“No, no!” She turned around to face him in his hold, hands moving from her sides to grab him by his squishy cheeks. He could tell from the rainbow-tinted sparkles her fingers emitted that she wasn’t angry at him, rather excited and he couldn’t help but grin at her, his dimples showing.

Her eyes twinkled. “I wanna be with you too!”

Emily felt one of Peter’s hands snaking up to the back of her neck and it made her recall the first time he had done that. To avoid whiplash, he had told her back then. She hated it, she still did now, but as her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to protest, before she could even get a single word out, she already found herself in the middle of Peter’s room. He was sporting a mischievous grin, knowing that Emily absolutely hated when he dragged her around with his super speed.

“You’re a scoundrel, I hope you know that.” She said, though the dizziness made her lean her head on his chest, hoping she wouldn’t barf.

“Yeah, but you love me.” He grinned, backing away and letting her sway in her own little daze. “Plus, shouldn’t you be used to this by now?”

“I’m never going to get used to that, I can barely sit on a damn swing without feeling like my heart’s gonna leap out of my chest.” Emily shook her head, leaning on one of the cabinets in Peter’s room, which made her notice the boombox sat atop it. “Have anything to put on this?”

“Oh, definitely.” Peter grinned and sped towards his bed, eventually pulling out a box of tapes from under it. “Any requests?”

She snorted. “Well, since I’m here, how about some really corny shit?”

In only a split second, he was already standing next to Emily, putting the cassette tape in the boombox and starting it up. “So, like, this is a mixtape I made, right? And I swear to god, you’re gonna die from how corny this is. I made this specifically for moments like this!”

“Moments like this? What, like, when there’s a girl in your room?” She raised an eyebrow with a taunting smile.

“Uh, well, I guess?” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “The definition is very, very loose since I never really thought there’d be a girl in my room anyways.”

He pushed his goggles off the top of his head, placing them on the cabinet next to the boombox and proceeding to grab Emily by the hand, pulling her away to the middle of the room again. Spinning her around, he declared that she should just focus on the music instead, but before she could properly focus on what had started playing, Peter opted on belting out the words instead.

“-I think about you day and night, it’s only right-!”

“Oh my god, Peter, please.” Emily laughed. “I swear, Charles could probably hear you yelling from his office!”

“If I should call you up, invest a dime-” He continued to sing, or rather, yell obnoxiously. Shrugging his iconic silver jacket, he flicked it in some random corner of his room, earning a playfully scolding glance from Emily. Though in a moment, she shook her head, doing the same with her leather jacket; it was pretty humid back in the school.

And, oh god, then the chorus started.

“I can’t see me lovin’ nobody but you!” Peter dramatically formed his hands into finger guns, pointing at Emily. “For all my life!”

Before she could jokingly complain again, he grabbed her by the hands and started spinning with her like a lovestruck twelve-year-old who had just gotten married to the prettiest girl in class near a jungle gym. Laughing, he continued to belt out the lyrics of Happy Together, garnering a laugh from her too, which eventually turned into more of a nervous giggle.

“I’m honestly scared you’re going to use your mutation now, because if you will, I’ll actually puke on you!” She exclaimed, still giggling, and Peter’s smile shifted into a more mischievous one, causing the poor girl to actually worry. “H- Hey now, don’t get any ideas!”

But Peter wasn’t that evil; instead he tugged her close, so he could wrap his arms around her waist, garnering a yelp from the girl. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck, making a flurry of the rainbow-tinted sparkles appear around the two in a burst of happiness and excitement. He was used to her mutation, in fact, he loved it when she would literally sparkle in joy and though it was only an addition to her full powers, he appreciated it nonetheless.

“These for dramatic effect?” He asked, looking to his sides and gesturing to the sparkles with the tilt of his head.

“No,” Emily rolled her eyes with a smile. She leaned closer, making their noses almost touch. “I’m just really happy, is all.”

Peter let out a toothy grin, closing the space and practically eskimo kissing her, both their noses scrunching up at the contact and garnering a small giggle from Emily. She felt his grip around her tighten and he let out a quick ‘alley-oop!’ before lifting her up and spinning her around, then using his super speed to zip towards the bed and sit her down.

“Peter…” She whined, plopping her head on his chest once more, before looking back up at him with wide eyes. “I swear, can you not-”

The speed in which his lips made contact with hers garnered a small muffled gasp from her. She could feel her heart jumping wildly in her chest and her face flush, and it took her a second, but her eyes eventually fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his neck in an attempt to feel closer to him. In turn, he placed one of his hands on her cheek gently, the other still on her waist, and propped one of his knees on the bed.

Eventually, he pulled away, his lips still lingering close to hers. He backed away slightly, removing his hand from her cheek and lifting his index finger as if to tell her to wait a moment. She squinted her eyes, and then-

“How deep is your love!” He exclaimed and only then did Emily realized he was singing along to the Bee Gees song that was playing, proceeding to echo the same sentence similarly to the song. “I really mean to know!”

“I literally can’t with you.” Emily smacked his chest lightly, shaking her head with a small smile.

Peter hummed. “Like kissing me that much, baaabe?” His voice trailed, tone shifting to a teasing one at the word ‘babe’.

“W- What of it?”

Her red cheeks made the grin on his face widen more, if that was even possible in the first place, and it sure did make him forget that he was probably just as red. The way she pouted and looked away, each blink emitting a little batch of sparkles, but this time probably because she was flustered; it all made Peter feel like he was in a dream.

Who knew that the second he got out of his mother’s basement he’d get so lucky?

“You’re the cutest.” Peter muttered.

Emily huffed, a smile inching on her face. “That’s not true, you’ve met Kurt, haven’t you?”

“Oh yeah, because I’m so head over heels for him.”

“No way, you aren’t?”

He sighed, shaking his head with a smile. Cracking his knuckles, he scooped her up in his arms and it took less than a second for the two to be completely on his messy bed. Peter was basically straddling Emily, which, truth be told, made her scream internally. She was already dizzy from him using his damn mutation too much, but this whole thing was…a lot for her poor heart. Her wide eyes were looking up at him and she only hoped that he didn’t hear her wild heartbeat.

She exhaled, trying to dismiss her nerves. “Saucy. Though it’d be more comfortable if you actually made your bed.”  

Peter groaned. “Oh my god, don’t ruin the cute moment.”

“I’m just saying!”  She clapped her hands together in front of her chest, fingertips sparkling. “If I’m sleeping over, I don’t wanna sleep on a mess!”

“Oh.” He had to stifle a large grin. “I, uh…you’re actually gonna?”

“I’m already here, aren’t I?” She smiled gently, raising her sparkling hand to caress his cheek. “I’m not planning on running off anytime soon.”

He leaned into her touch, relishing in the warmth of her hand on his face for a few moments, before inhaling and moving to kiss her again. She picked up on it this time, moving her hand from his cheek to the back of his head, fingers beginning to play with his silver hair and subconsciously pulling him closer until his lips finally met hers in a gentle kiss. It didn’t take long for him to smile in the kiss, making her smile in turn too, nearly ruining the whole thing. Though when he giggled, they both knew the kiss was over. So they opted to laugh at how mushy they were being instead, Peter’s forehead leaning against Emily’s. He looked so happy; laughing and grinning ear to ear, even when his laugh subsided, the dimples on his face still confirmed he was giddy as ever and she could’ve sworn if he kept looking at her with those happy eyes of his she would’ve started crying. Luckily, he moved to kiss the corner of her lips, so he didn’t notice her trying to suck in the happy tears.

He, on the other hand, was focusing on moving his lips to her jawline, pressing them and smiling against her skin as he trailed down to kiss the side of her neck. He could feel her hand still playing with his hair and he couldn’t help but wonder if his hair was going to sparkle later, causing him to smile even wider.

“Peter…” Emily began. “I love you. A lot. And I hope you know.”

He breathed against her skin and stayed still for a second, before moving to look at her, a baffled look on his face as he stared for what felt like eternity.

“You mean it?” He asked, his eyes suddenly becoming serious. “Really truly?”

She looked away, gazing to the side momentarily and then turning back, moving her hand from his hair and lifting up her index finger, telling him to wait a moment. He continued to stare and as she finally let her hand plop down to her side, she looked back at him with a wide grin.

“I wanna know what love is!” She loudly sang along to what was currently playing on the boombox, making sure to emulate the sound of the instruments during the small break before sentences. “I want you to show me!”

Peter’s serious expression shifted to the cute happy one as he snorted. “You are a terrible singer.”

“Hey, I was trying to confess my love for you! You could at least pretend it wasn’t awful!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it instantly, a better idea popping into his head. Leaning backwards, he stretched and began poking Emily’s sides, which already garnered a surprised yelp from her and as she started to tell him to stop, was when he decided to use his super speed to tickle her properly. She was both yelling at him to stop and laughing, and he could only tauntingly declare that if this was an actual fight, she’d lose. He was glad she couldn’t see the fond smile on his face as she doubled over in laughter, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, he was also glad she was here with him. And maybe for once, he thought, the entire world slowing down for him wasn’t that bad, because that only meant he could enjoy his time with her for a lot longer than he would’ve if he wasn’t like this.

It was the first time he was truly happy to be a mutant, too, a freak with silver hair who couldn’t catch a break for all his life, because if he wasn’t, perhaps he wouldn’t have met someone who loves him just as much.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #217

“roses are red, and my heart is black. we creep about the floor to indulge like rats.”

Do you know anyone who works in a laboratory? No. What was the very first social media site you signed up for? MySpace. Can you see yourself marrying your current partner? (if you have a partner) Easily. If you were in a coma, who would be making healthcare decisions for you? My mom. Are you the type of person who knows exactly what they want in life? Not entirely, but mostly. Do you have commitment issues? Not at all. What was the last thing you had an allergic reaction to? Silver. Have you gone out to dinner in the past week? No. What’s something you’ve done that sounds too crazy to be true? The only thing I think someone would actually find "crazy" would be I've been in a psychiatric hospital five or six times (I seriously can't remember). Are there any flowers planted outside your house? No. Well, not by us. There's a camellia tree by our back door that we didn't plant. What’s the weirdest decoration you’ve seen in someone else’s home? I'unno. I generally don't find decorations strange. Spice up your house with what you like. Did you have your own bathroom when you were growing up? No. Do you know anyone who never disciplines their children? I know of people. What’s the longest you’ve gone without leaving the house? Weeks. Are you more of a practical thinker, or more of an imaginative thinker? I think I can be on either end depending on the situation. Does anyone in your family smoke? My dad does. How well do you know your neighbors? I've never interacted with the ones to the right of us, but Mom knows the woman to the left, and she's apparently very nice. Mom was talking about her just the other day about how she always brings our trash can back to the fence, actually. How far are you into the book you’re currently reading? N/A Have you ever had a pet escape and run away? I don't believe so, at least not permanently. Do any of your exes know each other? Jason and Juan did. Girt and Jason know each other because of me; we all hung out a few times. It's both funny and sad now to know how friendzoned Girt was... ha ha. Sorry man. What’s an opinion you find impossible to take seriously? "Dinosaurs didn't exist." What the fuck are fossils then, bitch. What was the very first election you voted in? I haven't voted in any yet. Do you know how to make omelettes? No. I could probably figure it out, but I don't know for sure. What is your favorite summer month? Fuck summer. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? One of the witches from Hocus Pocus would be super cool, but yeah, I don't have the money to even try to make a costume. Do you have a desk in your room? If so, do you use it as a desk that you sit and work at? No. Do you wear band tees? if yes, which one is your favorite? Yes. I love my Metallica one. It's got a really cool design. Would you ever want to live in a home with all-white walls and furniture? "Not white furniture, no. That seems like it’d be a pain to keep clean." <<< Definitely. Do you have pajama days often? I'm literally always in pjs unless I have to leave the house and get out of the car. There's no point in changing otherwise; I'd just be creating more laundry. What is one thing you’re behind on? Instead of the usual "life in general" answer, I'll make it more interesting. RP. Jesus fucking holy Christ, I am over a year behind in SO MUCH because I just haven't had motivation, all the while plots have grown like mad. Thank god my partners are really damn patient, lol. And/or have other business, too. Do you ever re-arrange your room? No. I HATE moving/changing shit. Do you share a room with anyone? No. Who was your first roommate? Jason, Jacob, and Amanda. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Frosting: chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate. Ice cream: chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla. Milkshake: chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate, more often. Do you drink protein shakes? EW that shit mad gross. What was the last type of candy you ate? Uhhhh what was it. I don't have candy a lot now, so uh... I think Airheads? What was the last craft project you completed? It was VERY weakly a "craft," but Sara's first Valentine's Day present. Which is better: starting things or finishing them? Finishing. I start things all the damn time and never finish them. What is the highest name-brand thing you own? Good question. What color GameBoy did you have as a kid? Red. What was your favorite GameBoy game? Hm. I liked a lot. We had a whole case of different ones. I suppose maybe the Spyro one I could never get far into. But I liked it anyway because yeah. Spyro. What was your favorite Backstreet Boys song? "The Call" probably tops the list, but also you're full of shit if you thought "Larger Than Life" wasn't a fuckin BANGER. Damn, "The Shape of My Heart" was great, too. BSB were/are just great, man. Did you ever wonder what it felt like to get slimed? Ha ha you mean like on Nickelodeon? Yup. Did you ever name a pet after an imaginary friend? I never had one. Do you believe in angels and demons? I don't know. I believe in spirits, but I don't know about actual angels and demons. Do you have a PayPal account? No. What race do you consider yourself? ... You can "consider" yourself a race? You don't get to pick that. Whatever, I'm Caucasian. Should unwanted animals in shelters be killed to make room? Fuck that shit. Should cows be killed for human food? See, this is why I want to return to vegetarianism. TECHNICALLY, no. It's murder upon a conscious, feeling, living being. But at the same time, humans are designed as omnivores, and surviving off of a plant-based diet is, sadly, extremely difficult. It's difficult to obtain the proper nutrients and their advised amounts to be healthy. Therefore, I can't confidently answer this question. I wish they didn't have to be, but human civilization would have an incredibly more difficult time continuing with all meat products removed for consumption. Does the technique used to kill an animal matter to you? I mean if I KNEW, yes, but at least from the research I've done, there's no real "humane" method used to kill livestock. Most live in awful conditions/are already unhealthy, too, and that should matter . Should farmers be allowed to cause suffering in animals to save money? Fuck off. Should production of medicines be justification to cause animals to suffer? No. We neeeeeeed to find other ways. Use pedophiles or some shit. Should violence against animals; such as rodeos/ bullfights be legal? Fuck to the hell no. I get some kind of dark pleasure out of hearing about shitheads being gored and stuff for it, honestly. Should homosexuals be allowed to work with children? This shit pisses me the fuck off. Of course they should be. Like I'm sorry, but your children aren't going to be hidden from them forever. Do you believe homosexuality is caused by genetics? Well yeah. You don't get to choose your sexuality; something has to be responsible. Are Americans are truly free, or suffering from controlled freedom? CONTROLLED FREEDOM JFC TRY TO DENY IT. Are there other countries that offer more personal freedoms? Not that I KNOW of. Like yeah, my above answer clearly states I think America could be better, but I don't know I place where it's actually better. Do you trust your government? Fuck no. They hide a lot of shit. Should religious beliefs outweigh science in the making of laws? Lolololololol no, hunny. Separation of church and state. What is one moment that you missed out on that you wished you didn’t? Hm. OH, that solar eclipse that happened I think last year? We saw nothing here. :< Do you or have you ever had braces? For a long time. Got them on, then didn't have the money to take them off for a while. Can you text? Yeah, but not quickly. I am - usually - very thankful for autocorrect. Have you ever had a nervous breakdown? OH BOY HAVE I!!!!!!!!!!!! What are you scared to death of? My mom dying, for one. I DO NOT know what would happen to me. Are you good at art? I'm told so at least; I'm aware I'm at least decent. It also depends on the art form. Are you afraid of needles? Nah. What TV show is the stupidest to you? I honestly had a really big problem (and have, if it's still even on) with the Teen Mom series. Yes, I do in fact believe it made looking like one cooler and more normal than it is. Do you hate being ignored? Yes; I start to think I'm not cared about, badly. Especially if it's family or "friends." Like no, I don't at all expect attention constantly, or even a lot of it, but I think it's only natural people who claim they love you should not pretend they don't know you, particularly when you actually reach out. THEN it hurts. Where do you currently live? North Carolina, please get me out. Do you like marijuana? I wouldn't know. Do you donate to charity? I can't. I seriously don't have money. Where is your favorite place to go out to eat? Olive Garden. What is your favorite TV station? Discovery. Do you think you’re clever? No. Did you wear socks today? No. I avoid wearing socks as much as I can. Know any magic tricks? I don't remember the ones I learned as a kid. Do you sleep well most nights? No. When’s the last time you baked a cake? Never. What’s your preferred frozen snack? Ice cream, yum. Do you work better in a clean or messy environment? CLEAN. It inspires me to do well and with an organized strategy. Do you know any vegans? I don't believe so. Earphones or headphones? I personally prefer earphones since they go into the ear and are just more comfortable than a weight on your head that can move easier. Do you like bananas? Yeah, but the timespan in which I enjoy them is short. They have to be "perfect." What’s a film you’ve seen that confused you? I know there are some, but none are coming to me curr- WAIT NO okay so I saw Warcraft when it came out into theaters, and I barely understood a single thing because the orcs' voices were way too deep. I need to rewatch it with subtitles. Do you ever wear black lipstick? I pretty much always do if I wear lipstick. What would you change about yourself appearance-wise? HEY can I Please fix my fucking weight??? Because I do like everything I can do already & nothing works??? :') How long do you normally spend in the shower? Just short of ten minutes, I think. If you were to get a tattoo, what would it say or what would the graphic be? *opens novel of ideas* Don't make me pick just one. When trick-or-treating as a kid, was there any kind of candy that you didn’t like to get? Tootsie rolls, ew. What is your favorite memory of Christmases past? The time my mom, sisters, and I went to a Christmas light show one night, and we got back to the car only to realize Mom left the keys in there. Sooo while we waited for my drunk dad and brother to come help us, we all chilled on the car's hood with chocolate covered peanuts and THE best hot chocolate. That place is no longer around, and I'll forever be mad tilted about it. What is the most outrageous thing you’ve done for God? Lmfao remember the days I denied evolution and gay rights? Them were the wild times. When you were in grade school, what did you want to be when you grew up? Why? First, paleontologist because I adored (and still adore) dinosaurs, then a vet as I wanted to help animals. In high school, it changed from movie director to game designer. Name the most famous person you’ve had a face to face encounter with. No one. If you could spend 15 minutes with any living person, who would it be and why? Um like have y'all ever heard of this guy named Mark Edward Fischbach because I have time to enlighten you of all the reasons- What article of clothing most closely describes your personality? Pj pants, lmao. Who was your hero when you were a child, and what did you do to be like them? Steve Irwin. I adore animals in general, push very firmly for conservation, and madly support proper education of wildlife, especially your local kinds. How did you learn to ride a bicycle? I had a bike with training wheels at first, then my dad took them off and would jog alongside me, holding the bars and then releasing them after a few moments for me to go on my own. Repeated 'til I got it! Based on something you’ve already done, how might you make it into the Guinness Book of World Records? This is going to be VERY embarrassing to share, but fuck it. I have so little reason to leave my bed that my legs have actually experienced muscle atrophy. My knees especially are extremely prone to awful pain when standing or walking. I don't really have a way to exercise in this tiny house, my road is too sketchy to walk along, and at least this time of year, I physically can't handle the heat if I was to walk in the back yard. I'm dying to go somewhere where I can swim to fix this shit. I could ramble on forever about how painful it is to be on my feet. I'd be happy enough with even just a treadmill. When was the last time you did something for the first time? What was it? Hm. I guess foreplay with a girl. I don't exactly experience new things much. What is your concept of a fruitful day? Actually doing productive shit. If you could rid the world of one thing, what would it be? Violence. What is your best personal characteristic? I am like, incredibly passionate. If I believe in something, you'll know. If I love something, it's to an insane degree. If you had to enter a competition for the “Most Uselessly Unique Talent,” what would your talent be? Being able to hide my thumb under my palm to where it looks like it's entirely non-existent lmao. What is your worst personality characteristic? I am VERY sensitive. I also have a hard time taking criticism without beating my ass up because I feel like I did something "bad." I don't get defensive, I just get hurt. Man, I could go on. There's a lot I don't like about myself. If you had to be a teacher of something, what would you teach? I'd be most interested in teaching science. How would you like to be remembered? I loved ferociously and spoke strong of peace. What is one thing that you constantly think about (other than material things)? The future. Does your country have free healthcare? *points at top five list of things America needs to fucking fix* Does your job allow visible tattoos? N/A How is your road rage? I drive so timidly and rarely that I don't think I really even have a clue. Who are your closest friends and how did you meet them? I'll exclude Sara as she's more than "a close friend." I don't have many close friends otherwise tho, so really... I think only Girt applies. We met in high school band. Well, then there's Alex, but considering she now acts like I don't exist as well, I don't know how close we really are. But anyway, we met in WoW because we were both camping the time-lost protodrake and talking w/ others in the general chat... but she and I really clicked. That was an awesome day. Started some damn adventures with her lmao. Are you still cool with any of your exes? The only two who may still have a problem with me are Jason and Tyler, but I have no bad feelings towards them. What Hogwarts House are you in? I took quizzes once for a survey because I was curious, but I couldn't answer most of the ones I found bc they had HP references I didn't get. But anyway, I think Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were pretty much tied. What’s the next special event in your life? Returning to school. :') Whose birthday is coming up soon? My nephew's. :''''') Do you delete people from Facebook if their views are vastly different than yours? It depends on the views and their severity. Usually I can handle averse opinions if you're actually a friendly person and composed and mature about what you believe and how you express that. What’s your favorite thing to put on bagels? Cream cheese. What’s the most important key on your key ring? I only have one, and that's to my house. What was the last argument you got in about and who was it with? AHAHAHAAHAHA okay so. There was a video on FB of a pet meerkat having its belly rubbed, and it was chirping happily. It was very cute, but especially because this video was on a big page, I commented how awful and unhealthy of an idea it is to have a pet meerkat for both it and yourself. It's illegal in a lot of places for good reason. I got a lot of agreement, but of course there was one imbecile who disagreed enough to tell me to shut the fuck up. Now I am normally very, very terrified of confrontation or even the HINT of it, but for once in my life I couldn't have been more unfazed. At what age did you start picking out your own outfits? I don't know. I've come to find via surveys that I can't really remember events by ages. How spicy do you like your food? Pretty spicy. Spicier than most like, but I don't enjoy it when it's just pure pain. What was the last really intense pain you felt? You know that awwwfuuuulll pinch of pain you sometimes get in your ribs when your lungs expand to a certain, small amount? That. I couldn't take deep breaths for anything. What is the best thing that’s ever happened to you? Recovery from the breakup. What are three things you have been a victim of? Uhhhh. Idk, nothing major. What is your passion? Wildlife conservation, probably more than anything. When was the last time you truly felt alive? Ha, good question. How many siblings do you have? Technically six, but I don't know one at all. Are you married? No. Are you dating someone? Yeah. If not, do you wish you were dating someone? N/A Do you want an indoor or outdoor wedding? I'm not sure. What states (or countries) have you lived in? Just one. Does your first crush know you liked them? No. Do you wish on stars? Nope. Are you happier now than you were 10 years ago? I don't know. I can't really remember exactly what I was like at 13. I think I'm maybe happier now? Are you happier now than you were 5 years ago? Yes. ^If not, why not? N/A ^If yes, why? My depression is under control. Do you live in your dream house? Definitely not. What was your first job? Sales clerk at GameStop. ^Did you like it? No, thanks to feral social anxiety. Have you been bullied? No, very thankfully. What do you wish people knew about you? I sincerely care about my loved ones, a lot, even though I have trouble being the one to reach out first. What health issues do you have? A lot. Don't even feel like putting them all together. Do you still cross paths with your first crush ever? No. What is your favorite Bible verse, and why? None. Do you have a secret nobody knows? Yes. It's nothing major, just little things I don't want to share. Who are some of the most selfish people you have ever met? I don't know. Is there anyone you want back in your life? Yes. What color was the house you grew up in? True shit, I somehow don't remember for sure. I think it was brick? What was the name of the first pet that you loved? Charcoal, a cat, was the first pet I had a serious, deep bond with. Do you receive more insults or compliments? Compliments, I guess. Do you meditate? No. Do you pray? No. Have you ever seen a spirit/ghost/shadowy figure, etc.? I've sure as hell seen something. What would you ask a genie for, if you had three wishes? World peace, end of disease, and the end of poverty. When someone messages you and you know it’s going to be rude, do you ignore it and not read it, or do you read it and reply? Honestly, most of the time, I ignore it. I am so, SO sensitive, so my feelings are super easily hurt by what others have to say. Do you find online drama stressful? Yes. Even more than irl drama because you have to wait painstakingly for them to reply, and you can't hear their tone of voice. How stressful is your life? I'm pretty damn stressed for someone who's trapped inside their house lmao. Was any of your home decor inspired by Pinterest? No. Do you do yoga? No. What is something you have tried and hated? Oral is NOT my jazz. Do you have regrets? Yeah. Are you mad at someone? No. What is this month’s calendar picture? I don't have a calendar. What is your last ex-boyfriend’s or ex-girlfriend’s name? Technically Donald. Do you have an ex-friend that you miss? Yep. What color do you want your wedding dress to be? Most likely black. Would you rather go out for pancakes or steak? Pancakes. I like them more in general, and I'm also suuuper picky with steak. What’s your favorite Ramen noodle flavor? The only kind I've ever liked is the Yakisoba brand of spicy chicken. How do you feel when you read the Bible, if you read it? Encouraged? Angry? I don’t read it. Have you ever suffered from anxiety? I had some anxieties as a little kid, and I was officially diagnosed with it in the 6th grade. Have you ever suffered from depression? Since the 7th grade. What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Pie is what came to mind first. What’s an uplifting song you like to listen to? "High Hopes" by P!ATD. Think about the person you fell hardest for. Why do you think your feelings for this person were so strong? How is he/she different compared to everyone else you’ve had feelings for? Well, he was my first real love. They're always special. I was fucking crazy for him, and it grew to an unhealthy degree. Trust me, you can love too much. He made me happy when so few could back then, and we had a connection unprecedented in my whole life. He himself felt like my home. I could write you a goddamn novel on why I felt so strongly. Have you ever caught your friend cheating on their boyfriend/girlfriend? If you have, what did you do about it? If you haven’t, what do you think you would do? No. Quite honestly, I'd tell them. I could NOT keep that a secret. Whether they believe me or not, I'm not withholding that from them. When your last relationship ended, how long was it before you felt ready to think about being with someone else? I know this technically sounds bad, but Sara and I started dating the day after I broke up with him. One of the reasons we split is because I realized I liked her. It was so quick because I never had to "move on;" I never came to be truly interested in him romantically. Who was the last person you talked to before you went to sleep last night? Do you remember what you talked about? Sara and I were texting, but I don't remember about what. When are you at your happiest? When I'm with Sara. How many people have you kissed? Three or four. I don't really remember if I ever kissed Girt. How many of those people are you still friends with? Two. Where did you go, the last time you left your house? Mom and I went to multiple places. She had errands to run. Do you like your singing voice? Rarely. I think it fits only a few songs. Are most silences awkward for you? UH-HUH UH-HUH. Name someone you wish you had never met. Why? Jabari. He was scary and almost assaulted someone in my family. Who has the nicest singing voice, that you know personally? Probably Sara. Say something nice about someone you really don’t care for: He loves his kids to death. Ever won school awards? Yes. Do you drink more soda than anything else? Not anymore, thankfully. Do you curse a lot? I curse possibly more than anyone you know. Have you ever been in a courtroom? Yes. Do you eat a lot around Thanksgiving? No. I actually don't like 99% of Thanksgiving food. Were you a chubby child? No. Are you afraid to sing in front of people? Yes. Do you enjoy your family? Yeah. When did you last dance with someone? I forced Sara to last June lmao. Do you feel awkward watching sex scenes? VERY. Did you ever have senior photos done? No. Are your parents protective of you? Mom is for sure. I don't see my father much, and he's changed a LOT since the divorce, so I can't really answer for him. I know he is to some degree, I just don't know how much. Have you ever been bullied? I've had some mean shit said to me, but I don't believe I've ever really been consistently "bullied." Do you ever help decorate during the holidays? No. I just don't have the motivation and don't really care enough to put things up that're only coming down in two months. Do you have carpeted floors? Only my room and my sis's old one. Can you count to ten in another language? German, yeah. Have you ever been arrested? No. Do you always lock your door at night? Yeah. Do you get allowance? No, never did. Do you have a Facebook? Yes. Do you enjoy the presence of children? In most cases, no.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{A/N} Waiting on the Sun to Rise.

Oh how I wish that ol’ sun would rise~♫

I wrote a bit. {Points down.} It’s nothing special, 2nd POV just ‘cause idk what’s going on with anything again and it feels weird to try and write dedicated pieces when stuff’s off. {Waves a hand in a circle.} Said it before, but this time I’m trying not to let it keep me from writing. Used to use that as an excuse to not write or do anything but I keep saying if I keep that up I’ll literally never do anything and I’m in my 30′s, now.

I’m ready to do stuff. And so I’m gonna do stuff.

I’ve been reading “The Writer’s Process” by Anne Janzer, which was recommended to authors who want to know how to prep for writing seriously, sort of like a “how to get started writing novels” 101 book. It had really good reviews on Amazon and I’m on Chapter Five right now. It’s only about 200 pages long, if that, but it’s honestly really useful. It’s got good tips on balancing work/personal life with trying to write (like you have to actually dedicate time to write, can’t just expect to write a novel on wishful thinking) or how to help stimulate creativity. It includes tidbits and tips from psychologists who have done studies on the best way to tackle creative processes like writing so you can get the most out of your writing; it’s really been a helpful tool. The chapter I’m on right now talks about tackling procrastination, lmao, and how to self-discipline--which I have said is one of my biggest problems. I make excuses, I find reasons to not write, I let myself get distracted, but I’ve been saying all year I’m tired of looking back on the year before and spying all the wasted time and just sighing @ myself.

There’s no excuse other than me being lazy and/or making excuses. The older I get, the less forgiving I get with myself about it.

My 20′s I am now realizing was really not a good time for me to try and get published, I’m sort of allowing myself a pass because now that I’m out of that decade, I realize I was working through a lot of shit. I was still dealing with abuse into my late 20′s and while no one’s life is perfect I recognize that I wasn’t in a good enough headspace to dig deep and write well. My emotions are 97% of my writing and they weren’t right. Now that I’m in a better place in all aspects (still working on the living situation, but got less than a year to go, there) I can shelve the self-reflective work and start trying to make something of this talent and imagination I’ve got.

I don’t really know where this aggressive, “I am going to write.” mojo has come from. I mean I’ve always, always known I wanted to be an author but it was sort of a hobby more than a career. I wasn’t taking it seriously and there’s probably lots of reasons for that--

1. Was dealing with depression and teetering on finding any self-worth enough to try to make something of myself. 2. Been told from a young age that I was not good enough and to give up/not bother trying because I won’t make it. 3. Afraid of failure and the resulting, “I told you so”‘s.

So yeah. I just hid behind fanfiction and sprinkling my OC’s and plotlines through fandom work, which allowed me to express what I wanted to express without fear of failure or putting myself out there. But that’s not enough, at least...I don’t know. I’ll always have a heavy preference for writing for FL and Monica and stuff, but I treat that like...hm. Almost like a treat? It’s a treat for me. To give something of myself to someone I love very much. Her reactions will always be my favorite.

Stepping outside of that, though, fanfiction stopped being enough for me a number of years ago. It was too confining, I had so many ideas and characters and themes and stuff I wanted to put out there that I didn’t want to work in a confined space anymore. Y’know that saying, “Of course you’re uncomfortable and unhappy where you are--you’ve grown, you’ve changed, you are no longer that person. It’s time to move on.”

I feel that.

It was like wearing a pair of shoes that were too small. Yes, I could wear them and get somewhere, but not the distance I needed, and wanted to go. My hopes of being published haven’t gone away. I’m scared to try still, lol, I know my writing’s good, it’s the one thing I know I’m good at, but the way I want to do it is different than the norm. In a way, selfishly, I feel like Christine. She was one of the only people writing paranormal romance when she started, and she’s said how she had to push and push to get her publisher to take a chance on her work, that she knew she had something good and she didn’t give up on it. And now, we have the Carpathians. ♥ I’m somewhat in the same boat with wanting to write 2nd POV. I’m totally capable of making a heroine and giving her a name and backstory but I know what I like to read when I read fanfiction. 2nd POV. It’s more personal, it resonates, and tbh it helped me through some really difficult parts of my life. I want to return that to my readers. To give them that personal immersion that 2nd POV provides. But those aren’t the books that are published.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t have a novel finished or anything, lmao. I just, it’s one of my fears. That I’ll write this novel in 2nd POV and not be able to get it published...but I suppose I should cross the first part of that particular problem before anything else. Can’t fret about being published if there ain’t shit TO publish, DOT.

I’ve got a few novel ideas. Milano hasn’t gone away, lol. He still lurks about, like he’s just waiting for me to get my ass in gear and actually write his book properly.

...I really did sort of just use Yu Yu Hakusho to sort of write my own practice novel of Milano’s, lmao, if I’m being honest. I mean I did also want to go the hipster route and write for Yusuke because he was so under-loved in the community and I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t subjugating favoritism but truthfully I wanted to let Milano loose. I was proud of him, proud of the story and world I’d created around him, and I needed an outlet for it and was too young to know what to do with what I had. Was fucking 18 years old, fresh out of high school, and in way over my head honestly. Now that I’m matured, older, and my ADHD isn’t kicking my brain around like a pinball machine, I think I can do him proper justice.

So yes, Milano, I will still be writing your novel. Just uh, don’t ask me when. Baby steps.

I also have Bram’s story that I wrote 20 some odd pages of outline and prep work on, that I fully intended to novelize. And I still think I have something there, so hold onto your obsession, Bram. You’re up on the board, too.

The most recent idea I had was for a series of novels, called Help Wanted. It actually started from the most recent story I wrote for Monica, where she delivered those specialized herbs to Milano. I essentially work in a service industry and it got me thinking about how I like to take care of people, that you don’t typically see that in romance novels. Usually the heroine is the one being taken care of and while I won’t object to that, I also like to do the taking care of. And it’s not an itch I get to scratch a lot, when I read. So I have been tossing around this series of novels where the heroine of each book is a caregiver of some sorts, taking care of the love interest in some way, shape, or form.

For example, the idea I came up with today was for a human nanny (the reader) who gets hired by a vampire to take care of his child after his wife was staked/murdered. The vampire is hopeless as a father and needs all the help he can get, and his child needs a proper caregiver. The nanny comes highly recommended and to make matters worse, when shown a list of potential caregivers the child picks her out of all the other candidates. The vampire is wary of allowing a human in his home but he’s rewarded when his little one flourishes under the love and attention the new nanny brings. Can the vampire come to trust and love one of the very same who killed his late wife?

Another idea I had was for a bubbly housekeeper/caregiver who comes to care for a depressed zombie/undead. The undead can barely take care of themselves and the caregiver was hired by a Wellness Committee, who keep tabs on supernaturals (think like child or elder protective services). The undead wants nothing to do with life but can’t die--but maybe, just maybe, with a little bit of TLC from their caregiver they can learn to live again. Happily, with the one who truly saved their soul.

Obviously don’t judge me too harshly, I’m literally like two days into this idea, lmao. It’s rough around the edges, like super rough, but it’s something that speaks to me. It’d be sort of like the Carpathians as in like, a shared universe, with all sorts of different love interests per novel--it’d be paranormal so there’d be monsters and demons and ghosts, weres and mers and just--maybe even superheroes! Or that could be a spin-off series or just--

See it’s just a lot and it’s all brand new and I’m still working all this out.

BUT! What’s exciting to me is that I have ideas, still. I still want to write, I’m still living in this creative, imaginary headspace and I’m still wanting to share that world. I think I’ll just always be this person, and that’s not a complaint. I’m glad. Imaginary places got me through my childhood and tbh it’s what’s getting me through this hectic shit we call adulthood.

I’ve been saying, all year, that I’m going to keep going and I’ll probably keep saying it. I’m still working a lot of stuff out, still figuring out my writing process and I need to get back to writing every day (I did it for the first three months of the year so I know I can do it) so that when the time comes for me to sit down and write for Milano, for Bram, for Help Wanted--

That I’ll still be ready to go. 💕