#if i've giffed it once i've giffed it a thousand times

[zoreldanvers]

8/100 supergirl looks → season two episode eleven

[autumnrory]

deleted everything in my edits folder though there were a few things i couldn't find on my blog so idk if i should just repost them or what it's so annoying how posts disappeared on here after the nsfw ban especially in this instance because these were just like lyric edits like. did the algorithm really mistake fucking words for a naked body lmao

but i still have all the gifs which being way more work i don't wanna delete that old stuff until i remake it and even then i have not liked doing that, everything i've made in the last couple years i deleted from my computer right afterwards and idk how much difference it really does make but it basically would not let me keep that stuff on here if i wanted to save other things so. it is what it is i guess

[dontfearrr]

Best friends father

Heavily based on best friends brother from victorious lmfao. But this is a very funny request that you can find here

(gif not mine:)

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!reader

Summary: Legolas and Thranduil have no idea of each others roles in your life

Warnings: none

Category: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Word count: 1.6k

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

Twisting branches hovered high above her and all around her, whistles of the wind through the trees lingered through her ears like an eerie song sung just for her. She glanced around the path, knowing he was out there somewhere, he played this game with her all the time. However this time she was determined to win it. She felt chills crawl up her spine and she nocked an arrow in the blink of an eye, turning her body and releasing the arrow further up.

He felt the brush of the arrow graze his arm and he knew she had won. He swung from branch to branch and landed in front of her on his two feet, she watched his hair fall down back into place perfectly and she giggled, crossing her arms. “You know what, I'll give that one to you. I'm impressed.” He swung his bow back over his shoulder.

“Legolas it is quite rude to underestimate a lady” She told the white haired elf who stared down at her in amusement. “Sorry…if i'm not mistaken, i've won every single time, until now. So I think it was fair” Legolas joked back, only poking at you playfully.

She’d known Legolas for a good thousand years by now, they met during a trading with Imladris and since then they were glued together at the hip. Best friends some would say but if you asked her, she'd tell you he's some silly dumb ass who doesn't know how to handle his elven wine. 

“You just insist on making sure i know you're better than me.'' She gave him a playful eyeroll and began their walk back to the main palace, knowing they both have duties to tend to. “I assume once we return you'll be going off with your mystery lover?” Legolas teased, knowing lately she'd been quite infatuated and busied with her new asset. He was glad she had finally found someone in her life, he felt like a proud brother. (the irony im so sorry)

“You'd be correct, elf boy. Hopefully he's feeling extra nice today..” She teased, knowing Legolas hated hearing the descriptive details of their relationship. 

Legolas groaned in agony and shook his head at her suggestive and very unnecessary comment. “I have never met a more interesting creature.” He used his index finger to push at her shoulder jokingly as they approached the main gates. She gave him a playful smile and chuckled to herself as the guards let them into the kingdom.

“Farewell my friend, late nightfall?” Legolas spoke as he began to walk in the opposite direction of her, waiting for her reply before he turned around. 

“Late nightfall it is! Don't miss me too much!” 

She bowed to him dramatically and watched him turn around and walk off, she did the same. Only she waited until he was completely out of her sight before she began walking to the palace, her head facing the ground to hide from onlookers. Not that it necessarily mattered, however she wouldn't appreciate it if someone decided to gossip to the prince of her private whereabouts. She made her way down the main hall to the throne room, the guards allowing her through with the command of the king. 

She saw him perched upon his beautiful throne, his autumn crown complimenting his head and his blinding white hair fell down his shoulders perfectly, not one hair out of place. He was always a sight to see no matter how many times she'd see him. 

He caught her scent long before she even entered the throne room, his head positioned downward at the elf that approached him, her sweet presence instantly making his whole body relax from its usual tense state.

 “It is more than a pleasure to see you here, for I have missed you dearly.” his deep voice boomed throughout the entire room as he stood up and began descending from the stairs to meet her at the bottom.

 “It was like trying to swat a fly from your drink trying to get rid of him” she chuckled and met him halfway, looking up at him while his arms wrapped around her waist tenderly, pulling her flush against his body in a warm embrace. He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing down her hair as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “He seems persistent” he said, a bit jealous of her other companion no matter how many times she would reassure him it's not like that, nor will it ever be.

She just gave him a feigned look of annoyance and brought a hand up to place on his cheek, her thumb caressing his cheekbone gently. “My dear Thranduil, soon you will see the silliness of your jealousy.” she teased him, knowing he hated being called out on his feelings. “Do you insist on making me miserable, my lady?” He gave her a heartfelt smile and placed a hand on her back, gesturing for her to go to the private doors, doors which only the king and prince were allowed to use. They were passages that lead to everything, just quicker and more discrete. 

Every day, Thranduil took her to a new place, slowly showing her every beauty Mirkwood had to offer. His love for her grew every day and only made him want to do anything for her, anything he could. Today he was taking her to the Amaranthine Garden, the specific flora only visible to the royals. He was sure you'd love it for it is one of the few ethereal gardens amongst the elves.

Legolas was speaking with a royal guard, telling them about this morning’s duties, sending him off to go inform the rest. Right before he was about to walk back to the main quarters he was stopped by a messenger who handed him an envelope, he looked on the back seeing it was addressed to Thranduil. He cursed these damned messengers for not just giving it directly to his father, that was something he would also discuss with his father when he gave this to him.

He entered the throne room and found it empty..how strange. He never left his throne around these times unless it was severely important. He searched the room a bit and even called out for him but there was silence. That was until he spotted the private corridors left cracked. He could see the light emitting from the small opening of the door and approached it, he opened it fully but saw no one. Yet he got a whiff of a very familiar scent mixed with his fathers. It made him a little uncomfortable, he was determined to get to the bottom of this, something was up. So down the halls he went, peeking inside every single room, basically sniffing his father out like a dog.

She had her hand around his back and her body pressed into his side while he held her close, showing her the garden and telling her all about the unique plants she'd never seen before. There wasn't a second of this moment where she didn't have a smile on her face as her beloved spoke so gently. 

Thranduil bent down at his knees and carefully picked a beautiful bunch of Rhododendrons, pulling a thread from his pocket and tying the flowers at the stem, holding it out for her. She felt like a princess when she was with him, he treated her with the utmost respect. She took the flowers from him and smiled kindly. “Thranduil you never fail to put a smile on my face, you know that?” She set the flowers in her satchel and placed her hands on his chest.

“I live and breathe to please you meleth nin. I thought it was quite obvious.”

She giggled at this and felt his hands sneak to her waist, caressing her like a teenage boy, until his head snapped in the direction of the door that led back inside. 

“What is my sweet?” she looked at him with quite the confused look until she heard a voice all too familiar.

“Well if it isnt y/n and her mystery lover.” Legolas stood before them with his arms crossed as if he just caught a child sneaking into the cookie jar. 

Her head fell to Thranduil's chest in defeat, knowing she'd been caught red handed. Thranduil however was utterly confused, he hadn't put the pieces together just yet. Legolas approached them and she pulled from Thranduil, meeting Legolas in front of them. She sighed and placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “To be completely fair, you see why i didn't tell you” she joked and looked up to Thranduil. 

“Meet the best friend.” she spoke sheepishly with a weak smile and Thranduil just simply sighed in utter annoyance at this childish situation. “So you were able to keep both of our identities secret from each other, and this is how we find out? You never fail to surprise me little one” He placed a hand on her lower back and gave Legolas an unimpressed look. 

“I think you might find yourself with an arrow in your chest while you sleep tonight” Legolas playfully threatened. “That's if you wish to go blind, you'll find me cosying up with your father in a not so friendly manner.” She shot back, earning a chuckle from Thranduil and a gag from Legolas.

 “I curse you woman.” Legolas turned around to leave them. “And I curse you father, you'll be lucky if you don't find poison in your wine tonight” He said before leaving dramatically, leaving her and Thranduil to laugh amongst themselves. 

“I think that went great!” she tried weakly as Thranduil simply shook his head and continued their walk through the garden.

[minervas-hand]

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

[darkplaces27]

They've just won Winterfell. Ramsey is dead. The Lannisters aren't chasing them and it's finally... quiet.

This may be the 3AM brain talking but I've often thought about what makes this moment special. Yes it has romantic connotations (especially if viewed out of context) but it's also so much more than that.

The last time they experienced this was before Jon went to the Wall and Sansa went to King's Landing and the world turned on it's head.

We've seen these two characters go to hell and back since then (quite literally). They've constantly had the odds stacked against them. They've lived and died in a thousand different ways. But they have also survived. Usually alone but eventually alongside each other.

And now they find themselves in this moment. This moment where they are finally safe. They are finally free. Most importantly, they're home.

It's a curious mix of emotions as Jon seems to acknowledge that by reaching out and pressing a long kiss against Sansa's forehead. Maybe he's happy, maybe he's sad they're the only two Starks present here, or maybe he's just grateful to have been able to keep his promise to her.

On Sansa's part, while she seems to go to Jon willingly, you can also see the wariness in her eyes. What does Jon want?

Which begs the question, when was the last time someone was this gentle with her?

Sansa's body is battleworn, still carrying the bruises from Joffrey, Littlefinger, and Ramsey. Everytime she's been touched, it's been a new tale of abuse. The girl that dreamt of marrying princes and having babies is long gone. Sansa has been hardened by time and carved by tragedy.

"No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone," she had insisted.

But when Jon touches Sansa, he doesn't see her as a thing to torture. He just sees her. Sansa. It's as simple and confounding as that.

Sansa, in turn, looks at Jon waiting for the illusion of his kindess to fade and yet... nothing happens. No one twists her arm, no one strips her of her clothes and throws her on the floor, no one tries to hurt her.

Sansa isn't a means to an end to Jon. She's not a plaything to be turned inside out once she's fulfilled her purpose.

Sansa is Sansa.

It's a beautiful callback to when she had defended Jon against Brienne. She'd been reminding her protector that Jon wasn't Joffrey or Ramsey or any of the men who had abused her so. Jon was Jon.

And as she sees Jon look at her without expectation and accepts his affection and promises, she realizes it's true.

Jon will never be the men who've destroyed her body and held her captive in their personal prison of pain. Jon will always be Jon. She can trust him.

gif cr: @annaboleyne, owner.

[bowieandqueen11]

Zoro Falling In Love With You Would Include...

Request: I've been binge watching one piece this Friday night so I could appreciate your recent requests and finally send one in! Please can you write for Zoro falling in love? 🥹❤️ I know you would do it amazingly!

Yayayay I've been waiting to write something like this for Zoro, thank you lovely!!! I had WAY too much fun writing this one I am so sorry if I went overboard on the imagery but also sorry not sorry I want to press a thousand kisses over this beautiful man's face

Okay this actually took way too much time to write so comments are much much appreciated!!

Warning: slightly suggestive if you squint, mention of scratching/ injuries and sword fighting

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @starryyshadows.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Oh, mosshead. What a dopey ass himbo you are. Istg this m*therf*cker right here (affectionate) would be so god damn ANNOYING when he's in love. Forget about Zoro nearly grabbing Sanji by his curly brows and swinging him like a ragdoll over the railings any time his continuous nosebleeds drip into his sake. Zoro is just as bad, just a needle swung in the opposite direction; he grumbles around the ship like a mopey, exasperated crocodile, snapping at anyone who comes near him that isn't you.

He wasn't built for love; hellfire roared through his veins, ravishing every cell in his body until his teeth gritted and lips bled in his struggle for self-discipline. He was a predator; rampant, ravaging, resolved in his fortitude. So why? Oh god, why? Why did he feel like he was being torn apart? Ravished by teeth that left rupturing silver punctures in his lungs, shredded by claws that streamed blinding light through the chambers of his heart.

He had felt like that: bent over doubled, clutching his chest in pain when the two of you first met as teenagers. If it hadn't been pitiful enough that you had bested him during your first sparring match at the Shimotsuki Dojo, you had to rub salt into the wound by being kind to him afterwards. He had scoffed when you had thrown your helmet to the ground and held out your hand to him, a scowl cloaking his face and making his teeth grind as you offered him advice on how to perfect your technique. Yet all you had done in response to his slight was to smile: a smile so shining, so unjustly kindly, so prepossessing and beautiful that the swordsman froze in shock, a fleeting flash of pure light haloing his eyes.

He knew. He knew, right there and then. That you were the only thing in all of the seas that could stand in his way. In that moment, he had decided that he would like to live forever in that strand of light: that one that strayed through a gap between the oak leaves, straying past its dark, dense leaves, foraging past the crawling thickets to instead brush against the tip of your cheek.

'What does it matter anyway?', Zoro had glowered, refusing to look back at you again. 'It's not as if you're going to stick around. Once your gone, I'll be the best fighter here again.'

'I'm not going anywhere. Not until I defeat you ten more times, at least', you added, once you noticed him rolling your eyes. You held your hand out, and Zoro glanced down at your outreaching fingers warily. 'No matter where we are or what happens to us, I'll always be a better swordsman than you.' His lips finally curl up in a smile then as he reaches out to shake your hand, and the feeling sends a spark of something running down his fingertips. His whole body feels alight, and he spends the whole rest of the day clenching his fingers into his palm and trying desperately to relish the feeling.

Which is why, for a while, Zoro seems to go extra hard on you: calling you away after lessons for private sparring matches deep in the woods, where only the crunchy bark could hear your swift steps and the fine mist wrapped around the pale trees and sent a cold shake down your hilted hand. The only way to warm yourself up was to butt the edge of your sword against Zoro's flailing torso, shoving him back so you could use the leverage to pin his panting face up against the nearest tree trunk. This time, though - this time, you surprise him.

If he was disappointed in himself for losing again, it soon melted away by the feel of your torso pressing up against his heaving lungs. For a moment, his lips tighten into a thin line as sees your approaching forehead and believes you're straight up just going to headbutt his sorry ass. He jumps even more when your skin lands... softly? against the burning side of his temple. He can't seem able to find his breath, the world seeming to be frozen in glinting threads of light as you linger against the young demon. All that exists is the soft push of your nose against his fluttering shut eyelid. The warm puff of breath as you sigh against the shell of his ear. The light scrape of the bark against his back as he shivers. The sound of his own heart, his blood scorching through his veins and convulsing against the sharp cage of his ribs.

He's so hyperaware of his body tantalisingly close to yours; his stiff elbows lay drawn up by his side, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly as he spreads and flexes his fingers, slowly drawing them to hover around your back. He was still too afraid to touch you.

Too afraid of the fire burning through his fingertips again.

But before he could muster up the courage you had pulled away, and the moment faded into a jaded dream that he nestled safely in the back of his memories.

It's impossible to shake Zoro from you after that moment. He hounds after you like a coveting beast: he stays tied to your hip like a disruptive dog harnessed on a leash. Your favourite activity is sneaking out of your dorms after hours and running down to meet by the riverbed: feet sprinting across the cream petals and sharp pine needles to collapse next to one another among the buzz of the fireflies nestling above the woven grass. For a while, as the two of you turn your tired heads to the skies, there's nothing but a silent affinity settling over the clearing. Nothing but the feel of the silk sleeve of Zoro's pyjamas brushing over the side of your cheek as unclasps his hands from behind his head and warily rests them in the short space between your hips. Nothing but the sound of your extolled voice as you point up at the bursts of sparks and swirls of silver against the darkness, enrapturing Zoro as you chart out the dips of your favourite constellations.

The reflection of the skies you had spent your younger years on the seas watching with wonder fill your eyes with a wonderous light, the delight drawing your attention away and allowing Zoro the opportunity to docilely turn his head to face you instead. His cheek freezes against the dew, but he's too revered in memorising the scrunch of your nose as you swat your hand at him for not paying attention: too busy watching the placid look that softens your smile as you look, too busy wishing he wasn't so cowardly. Wishing he didn't feel so feeble. Wishing, as his hand clawed at his thigh and dug in deep enough to leave bruises, that he could just reach out and touch you.

He jumps when you click your fingers in front of his crossing eyes. 'Zoro, are you even listening?'

He shrugged. 'Kinda. I don't know much about this stuff. If I can't hit it, I don't care.'

'You should! One day, when I become the greatest sword fighter in the world, I'm going to sail into those stars and discover all the secrets this world has to offer.' You flopped your free hand over your stomach with a content sigh, the spiralling glow of the heavens raining down and coating your face with sparks of silver.

He snorted. 'That sounds stupid. You can't sail into the sky.'

'You're just jealous because you're not invited.'

'Good. Who said I wanted to come.'

Zoro may be an idiot, but he's also a man who learns from his mistakes.

He doesn't know what overtakes him. Adrenaline? Rage? An overwhelming surge of fondness? The thought pounding in his head that if he doesn't do this now, he'll spend forever locked away in this cage? His fingers itch across the grass. His whole body squirms, the heat rolling through his body making the perspiration bead on his forehead, but still he keeps going. It's only when he feels your hand jolt back as his pinkie bumps against the side of your wrist that he begins to feel stupid.

Growing self-restraint be damned, as soon as you recover from the shock and shyly place your hand back down by your side, he pounces. Initially, the squeeze of his fingers as they wrap around your cool palm almost breaks bone, but all you do is rub your thumb over the edge of his knuckles.

You know its his way of telling you he loves you, even if he is too young and stubborn and proud to say it.

You both knew that one day you would leave him for the stars. When the time comes, and you leave Shimotsuki Village, to stop the sinews of his heart from completely scorching away with every knot of your ship, the demon suffocates any thought of you.

When he meets you again that fateful day: tied up to a Marine post in a dusty courtyard, tired, frustrated, solemn, for the first time in his life he begins to feel his judgement sway. When your face popped around the yard gates on your way out from meeting Axehand Morgan, your feet skid so comically across the ground the cloud of smoke it raised was so huge it even made Zoro sneeze. With a hand on your hip, and eyes widened in disbelief, you stepped out into the sunlight to survey the man bowed before you.

'I always knew I'd see you tied up one day', you smirked, shoving the handful of berries you had earnt from trading in your last bounty into the satchel by your hip before wandering over to untie him. 'Just thought it would be me doing the tying.'

'Y/n?', he asks incredulously, trying his best to dart his eyes nonchalantly up and down your body despite how fervently his voice was trying to waver. He sneered, tipping his head in the other direction and staring at the ground as you tug on the rather tight knots around his wrist. 'What the hell are you doing here.'

When you finally manage to tug him loose off the boards, his knees sag so quickly beneath him that the swordsman nearly goes collapsing headfirst onto the ground. With reflexes so quick they could only be rivalled by your own sparring buddy himself, a firm hand slaps against his sternum. A quick tug pulls him back, Zoro's knees dirtying with beige as he kneels back against you.

'Same as you, oh great swordsman', you laugh against his ear. 'I always told you you'd have competition. And from the looks of it, I'm winning.'

For a second you're concerned you've overstepped: the familiarity, the fondness you thought everlasting between you both a figment of your imagination when Zoro tilts his head back slightly to glare at you from the corners of his eyes. Placing a hand on his knee he braces himself, and steps up. For a moment, you're even more terrified he's about to kick you to the ground - or even worse, turn his back and walk off, ignoring you completely. But then he surprises you. The corners of his lips twitch in what - no way- could only be the beginnings of a smile?! before you're lifted off the ground and crushed in a hug so unyielding between his solid chest and taut arms that you can't help but bury your head into his shoulder blade and laugh.

It wasn't very hard to convince Luffy to let you join his crew - I mean, when you took down three Marines with just one punch, and he saw the powerhouse you and Zoro were as you fought back to back with Axehand Morgan, you were coming, and that was that. No buts. No excuses. Don't argue with your Captain.

I mean, bless his heart, Zoro is still a dumbass though, as perceptive as he is. And he's still sore. It takes a little bit of work to climb through the trellises of his grave heart. But little by little, he begins to open up to you again. He starts to grumble less when you climb up to join him during his late nights on watch up in the Crow's Nest. At first, as he burrows his back into the planks and crosses his arms in front of his chest, the steady breathing of his stoic body makes your job seem even harder. Undeterred, you rocked back on your heels and clucked your tongue in nervousness. But you should have known: even with his eyes closed, concentration edged into the furrows of his face, he's far too perspicacious for his own good. Even though he's doing his best to look brooding and bored, his foot shoots out and kicks his sword out of the way - launching it back across your heels and barring you from tumbling back down and falling down the hatch.

Every time you drag yourself up in the middle of the night to join him, you can tell his full concentration is centred on you, even if his eyes never even move behind their lids. He's pointedly listening out for your move, your every breath, your every heartbeat - which comes in very handy for darting out and catching in his massive palm the warm cups of cider you had precariously tried to carry up. Eventually, after a full week of you sitting up there Zoro finally relents his pride; even with Luffy's vest and Usopp's jacket wrapped around you, you clutch at the lapels of Sanji's suit jacket that your friends had very kindly lent you to try and stop shivering from the cold. Zoro doesn't even speak, just raises his elbow a little bit, and you don't need a second invitation to come clambering into the warmth of his side.

God, if he hadn't spent every moment of every day since he was thirteen years old dreaming of holding you in his arms. You pretend, for his sake, that you can't feel his heart thrumming wildly against your ear.

You catch the former bounty hunter staring at you from across the Lounge’s breakfast table most mornings. The intensity of his unwavering eye would be strong enough to make you blush, if you hadn't turned your attention back to stabbing at Luffy's grabby hands with the prongs of your fork. It's only when Sanji clasps his hands to his cheek, and in a faux sugary sweet sing-song voice professes 'how romantic mosshead can be! What person wouldn't love being stared at like roadkill!', that all hell breaks loose. Luffy's too busy munching on your pancake to truly register you and Nami nearly flying leapfrog over Zoro's back to try and stop him from throwing the poor cook through the window.

Although you succeed, Sanji does have to spend the rest of the morning sulkily smoking out of the corner of his mouth while wringing orange juice out of his hair.

Zoro is extremely, extremely protective over you. Even though you know how much he hates talking, he draws all the attention to himself away from Cabaji, even while tied up to Buggy' circus wheel. When the knives start whizzing past his head, he doesn't even flinch: safe in the knowledge that no matter what happens, you're safe from these buffoons. When Nami finally manages to pick her cage's lock and help free the two of you, you offer Zoro your hand as you cautiously steady him on the ground again. He jolts, and for a moment you're worried one of the knives actually did hit him; while you flip his palm trying to find any sign of a scratch, Zoro's eyes focus on you in wild shock. He feels fifteen again as he gently rubs your searching fingers between his coarse pointer finger and thumb, sobbing into his bed and holding the hilt of his sword, pretending it was your hand. Your warmth. And here you were, come back to him, offering it freely. He felt like falling to his knees, a pliant supplicant to your unwarranted mercy.

One time he nearly made you bust out laughing: since Zoro spends most of his day napping in such random intervals, during a rogue storm aboard the Going Merry one cloudy evening the swordsman was still awake. It was during your struggle to stop yourself pitching right off your bed and slamming into the wall, and planting yourself firmly from sliding to the left and body slamming a very irritated looking Nami, whose head was covered by one of her bunched up pillows, that you spotted a shadow flitting across the porthole on your door. Zoro's tall, awkward outline hesitantly moved as if he were about to rap at the door, before the sound of him yelling at himself under his breath made you snort aloud.

His head rises at the sound, and before he can take a step backward to try and abort his masterplan of sneaking into your room under the guise of checking if you were alright with the storm battering the rocking ship, you had slammed open the door and nearly flung Zoro into your hammock like a ragdoll. For a moment, Zoro lies there like a statue, unsure of where to put his hands or if it's alright that the sway of the ship means that he can't unsquish his cheek from against the side of your eyebrow. When his hand hesitantly begins to fall over your back and fold you tightly against his pecs with a squeeze, you know that's his trepid way of trying to let you know he still loved you.

Not to mention when you wake up and he's lying with his nose nearly indented into yours, his sleepy eyes looking so peaceful for once... just admiring you with the warm glow of the sun dousing him in holiness.

One time he got really lost trying to find you and Luffy after the two of you had the very sensible idea of setting off to the nearest island on a search for hidden treasure. After he had spent hours wading through muddy creeks and tearing some tangled thorns away from his face, out you come wandering from behind a tree. Thinking you were some kind of wild animal, Zoro has you pinned against the bark of the nearest tree before you even have time to blink.

Not one to be defeated, you kick out at his legs with a delighted laugh, knocking the man nearly ass over head onto his back. You grin, victorious, as you crawl between his legs like a ravenous tiger, knocking the hilt of his blade far out of reach of his clenching fingers. As your knee presses against the inner seam of his muscled thigh, you can tell by the forced gulp of his bobbing throat how hard he's struggling. When you dig your fingernails deeply enough into his wrists to elicit a throaty hum of approval, when his abdomen keeps bucking ever so slightly off the reeds to try and shake you off, you just know the man's imagined this scenario a lot of times, in a lot of different ways over the years.

(I mean this man could throw you off easily let's be real.)

When the Straw Hat Crew meet Kaya, this man - istg - he nearly goes weak at the knees when you come down the stairs in your brand new borrowed outfit. His breathless inhale earned him a distasteful glare from Klahadore, but he didn't even care that he was showing such careless, unmeasured adoration. It took Luffy nearly slapping him across the face with the shrimp he was waving in front of his nose to draw him back to some sense of reality.

'I know!', the Captain had smiled. 'The food here is so good, I was daydreaming about it too!'

Having the good fortune to uh *definitely by chance and not because you snuck into the dining hall earlier to switch the place cards* - to sit next to Zoro offers him the opportunity to make his feelings more plain, in a subtle way. Perfect timing! As soon as Luffy clambers up onto the table and draws the wrath of the strangely severe butler, Zoro's hand latches across yours under the tablecloth and squeezes. He blinks languidly, his face as unreadable as ever as he takes a sip out of his champagne flute and clears his throat, but you notice. You know every part of him: every idiosyncrasy, every bob of his Adam's Apple, the tensed pull of his jaw muscle as he clenches his teeth, the warm flush rising up his cheeks, you know them all. As if they were so innate, so interwoven with your own being, that you weren't sure of a time when your hearts hadn't been devoured by each other's. Each the predator. Each the prey.

He leaves his hand on your knee for the rest of the dinner, and you refuse to remove his latched fingers and let him go.

You kiss him for the first time that night: just a sweet little tease of lingering lips against the pure radiance of his cheek.

As he walks you down the 'confusing' corridors that are 'definitely a trap' by Zoro's own declaration, you unlink yourself from his arm to straighten the collar of his silk shirt. 'You look nice', you say sincerely, eyebrows furrowing as you trace the outline of his bare collar between the open buttons. 'Even though swords are more your style, you look good in a suit. You look good in everything.'

'Uh... thanks', he balks, his head emptying as his entire being instead focuses on the feeling of your fingertip scratching of his chest. 'You- your eyes look nice', he bluntly replies. 'Like two rice balls.'

Bless him, he meant well.

And then you kiss him with a raise of your tippy toes and final clutch of your hands against his shoulders, before retreating back into your room and leaving him extinguished within the shadows. He spends the next few hours almost deliriously wandering the corridors, trying to temper the tight ball growling in his belly. To try and find a sense of clarity, some kind of retinence. Looking past the billowing blue curtains and out through the slats of the casement windows lining the ornate, ostentatious glass cases, a warning pangs in Zoro's heart. How could he? How could he find restraint, when you had spent all these years driving his thoughts wild? How could he keep you safe, when he could focus on nothing but the wetness still lingering against his cheek? How could he fulfil his dreams, when all he wants right there. Just past the clear moonlight drifting silver into his eyelids, there your stars lay.

He wasn't about to let you sail away from him this time, to alight only in his memories: to pulse through the hollow beats of his hear and cool his charred veins like a cruel reminder of a salvation he had never deserved.

He wasn’t going to lose you to his callow cowardice. Not ever again.

When he comes knocking on your door, you don't expect the demon bounty hunter to blurt out a fevered 'I love you!', before turning and stamping off. But I suppose, as you ran after to him to drag him back into your room by the scuff of his neck and slam the wide expanse of his back against the door to shut it, he wasn't expecting to spend the night filling poor Kaya's house with unbridled moans.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light

Omg here we are. At the end. I'm sad, I've been having such a blast with you guys this week! But all good things... Anyway, this is a strange one, rambling and mournful but hopefully with some sweetness. I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it gives you something, I hope we part on this final day of Painland Week as friends and confidants 💛 Huge, huge thanks to the organisers of Painland Week for putting this magical event together! Special love on this day goes out to @mellxncollie , who has been creating amazing gifs all week and has made beautiful ones for this very fic. It's been so so wonderful to collab with you and everyone should go and look at these wonderful creations at ONCE. Warnings for canonical character death (sorry, Charles) and the stuff that comes with it (i.e. refs to bullying/hatecrimes), non-graphic injury description, and just general mournful grief vibes all round. But hopeful ending bc let's face it, we all know how this played out! 7.3k, M-rated, available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Colour! What a deep and mysterious language. The language of dreams."

~ Paul Gauguin

Edwin Payne had always possessed a thirst for knowledge. As a child, he'd wished to learn just about everything there was to learn — every fact in every field. He'd been told, many times, that he could live to be a hundred years old, and still not have enough hours to do so.

Edwin had most certainly not lived to be a hundred. But he supposed that if you added his sixteen years of life to his seventy-three of death, he was getting rather close.

The dead years, however, had been far from conducive to study. Knowledge was hard to come by in Hell. Found either in burnt and bloodied books scavenged from individual damnations, or delivered in the form of cruel trials. He'd been taught a lesson or two in his time, but not on anything so polite and pedestrian as geometry. Edwin's key area of personal study in Hell had been one thing, and one thing only: how to escape from it.

It had taken seven decades, a slew of disembowelments and innumerable failed attempts, but at last he'd passed his final exam with merit. Or at least, a version of him had. But there wasn't much to be done for his original self, whose body lay mouldering on the dollhouse floor beneath a thousand savaged duplicates.

Best not to dwell on it.

He supposed he should have been upset about where the door to Hell spat him out. Not many people would be happy to return to the place where they'd met their untimely, violent demise. But to Edwin, after a small infinity in the blackest pit, stepping back into St. Hilarion's hallowed halls felt like greeting an old friend. Well, friend might be a tad generous. More of an acquaintance, or perhaps a second cousin one barely tolerated. Not a person one enjoyed spending time with, but nonetheless a familiar face.

For a day or so he'd wandered about in a bit of a daze, glancing over his shoulder for any sign he'd been followed from the depths. He'd drunk in every familiar feature, and puzzled over the unfamiliar ones. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but he suspected they'd replaced the drapes. They were a lighter grey now than they had been in his time. He wondered what colour they'd chosen — or for that matter, what colour they were in the first place. He'd never thought to ask.

Then on his second day of wandering, he'd stumbled across the old library. And that, for several weeks, had been that.

He'd probably had dreams about this, in his youth. Dreams of being left to his own devices, surrounded by books. All the information he could inhale, with no interruptions. Not even from the other boys. Their voices had startled him a few times, and he was always wary when a gaggle of them descended on the library. But he'd quickly realised that none of them could see him, and so long as he turned the pages quietly, he was free to continue his reading unmolested.

And he did so, continuously, for days. Not even boring old human restrictions like hunger, tiredness or eye strain could stop him now. He read everything he could get his hands on, brushed up on everything, filling in the gaps of the last decades. On the future that had been robbed from him, subsiding into history while his back was turned. He'd sat in his own shellshock when he read not only about how the so-called 'war to end all wars' had concluded, but also how little time had passed before the next one. He'd blushed and skimmed the pages pertaining to the nineteen-sixties free love movement. He'd gazed, thunderstruck, at the moon through the library window; wondering what the Earth must have looked like to the man they put up there.

All these years he'd been trapped in the gutters at the deepest depths of suffering, reaching up towards the light; all that time, humanity had been reaching, too. Up, up and up, all the way to the stars.

It became habit, after that, to gaze at the moon in between books and chapters. An opportunity to gather his thoughts on what he'd just read, to file away the facts, to jot down the most pertinent in his notebook. It was rather a meditative process.

Or at least it had been, until the night he'd seen something else beneath that moon. Something tragically earthbound amidst the gently illuminated greys of the grounds. A hunched and trembling shape against the trees, lurching by Edwin's window. A boy, on the run — his pursuers baying for blood like wolves at his heels.

They could put a man on the moon, but some things never changed.

It would be the first time Edwin had left the library since re-discovering it. Holding aloft the pilfered lantern he'd been using to read into the night, he trod carefully through the darkened corridors. The majority of staff and students were in dorms or common rooms by now, voices a soft patter, bleeding with the light under the doors. No one marked Edwin, or came to investigate the lantern floating past. Though some extinguished their own lights and hushed their voices, mistaking him for a warden. Edwin didn't wish to scare anyone, but he drew some comfort from it. He'd grown tired of being pounced upon in long, black, twisting hallways. How comforting for once to be the root of fear and not merely its captive.

Edwin had to search a little while, but he was already familiar with the best hiding places. It wasn't long before he was creeping up to the attic, minding his ghostly tread upon the stairs. He didn't wish to cause alarm, or send the boy deeper into hiding thinking his assailants had found him.

He crossed the threshold, and at once heard a shuddering intake of breath as the harsh white aura of his lantern bounced off the walls. He supposed there was no disguising the glow. He hung back a moment, conflicted. All he wanted was to offer some light and warmth, but perhaps a floating lantern would be a sight too much for the terrified boy. Well, it was too late for that, now. He stepped into the room proper, peering past the flare of his lantern to the source of the sound. A shivering bundle on the floor, tucked into a nook behind the shelves. Trying to be as small as possible and, by and large, succeeding.

Wide, hunted eyes stared into the light. A voice, low and wary, spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was then that Edwin realised the eyes weren't looking into the light. They were looking at him. He glanced behind himself, just to make sure, but he wasn't mistaken. "You can see me?"

It was also when he noticed something equally perplexing happening to the light. It had started to look... less white. No, in fact it no longer looked white at all, but it had not dimmed, and it bore no resemblance to any shade of grey Edwin had ever seen. It was... he didn't even have the language to describe it. If he had to choose a word, he could only say it looked warm. He'd never seen anything like it. Not in seventy years of Hell, nor in his life before. It simply defied description.

He tore his gaze from it. There were more pressing matters to attend to. "I... I thought this lantern might help," he said, still dumbfounded. He approached, with care — this boy was clearly a victim in this circumstance, but there was a defensive set to his jaw. A wild look in his eyes. A creature caught in a trap was as liable to bite a rescuer as an attacker. "You can simply extinguish it if those boys come up here."

The guarded expression cracked, vulnerability bleeding through. As Edwin drew closer, he noticed that the strange new quality of the light was reflected where it hit the boy. There were notes of something else beneath the pallid grey tones of his skin, something richer. Just as something beyond simple black glistened in his enormous eyes.

"You saw them?" the boy rasped.

"I did. I went to school here a long time ago." Edwin knelt before him, bringing the light closer to the lad’s face and marvelling, quietly, at the strange tones that sprang into sharp relief. Whoever this young man was, Edwin's very perception of the world appeared to be shifting in his presence. "We had bullies, too."

He looked so weak, curled up and trembling. He certainly wasn't weak, Edwin suspected that much. Peeking out from beneath the blanket were shoes and trousers of a kind he'd seen these modern boys wearing out on the sports pitch. The lad was no delicate flower, but at this moment, at the mercy of his wounds, he was helpless.

And if he could see Edwin... then his fate was already sealed.

Edwin looked at the boy levelly, at the fear in his strange eyes. He'd seen that fear upon countless faces these last seventy years, on the wretched souls crying out for respite from their torment. He'd worn a similar expression some decades ago, when a careless act of cruelty had damned him, too.

"Rest assured," he said, gently, offering the lantern. "I shan't hurt you."

He could see the moment the boy decided to believe him. His shoulders slumped, his breath escaped in a rattle of relief. He reached out from his blanket shell, and flashed a sliver of that curiously saturated skin at his shoulder. Against the stark white of the sleeveless vest he wore, the difference was now undeniable. Not grey, not white, but something altogether different. Like his eyes, like the metal at his throat and ear that glimmered in the lamplight. Tones Edwin had never seen before, couldn't even name.

It couldn't be...

"Cheers, mate," said the boy, shivering as he brought the lantern closer. "I'm freezing. Never been this cold in my life."

Swallowing, Edwin nodded. "It's the least I can do."

The boy's lips twitched in a feeble half-smile. "Yeah? You mean you can do more?"

Probably not as much as he'd like. But Edwin nodded again. "Of course."

The light shone upon the boy's face and the dark, waterlogged curls of his hair. Steeped in that impossible hue.

"Stick around a bit?" he asked, his voice very small indeed. "Bit lonely up here..."

Edwin had not come here with any plans to stick around. He'd wished to help, of course. But to say he was unaccustomed to dealing with people was a tremendous understatement. He'd planned to drop off the lantern, check the boy was alright, and slip away without a fuss.

But the boy was clearly not alright, half-alive and fading fast. And he'd seen Edwin, asked him in no uncertain terms to stay. Asked him with all the broken hope in his voice and all the impossible buried, blooming hues in his eyes. And if those colours meant what he had always been told…

Well. How could Edwin begrudge his own soulmate a last request?

"My name is Edwin," he said, as measured as he could manage. "Edwin Payne."

The boy grinned. It wobbled at the edges. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Charles Rowland."

Edwin hummed. Charles. A pleasant name. Respectable. He thought it rather suited the young man. "A pleasure to meet you, Charles."

Charles chuckled, drawing the lantern closer to himself. "Pretty bloody brills to meet you, too, Edwin."

The colour — for it surely was a colour, Edwin knew of no other word or explanation — of the lantern seemed to pulse, then settle, stronger than before. It illuminated the feeble grin upon Charles' drawn face in hues as yet unnamed.

Edwin would have to find some names. Compare what he could see with what he'd been told, what he'd read. Identify what he could.

While he still had the chance.

"Best thing to happen to me all night," Charles mumbled. "You showing up."

Edwin wished to tell him things could only improve from here; but he knew it to be a lie.

~

"It is the color closest to light. In its utmost purity, it always implies the nature of brightness and has a cheerful, serene, gently stimulating character. Hence, experience teaches us that yellow makes a thoroughly warm and comforting impression."

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Just didn't seem right. Letting that kid get beat on 'cause he's from Pakistan," said Charles.

His socks peeked out from the blanket, bright white in the lamplight. Interesting — a part of Edwin had always presumed that white would look vastly different with the rest of the spectrum unlocked. It didn't, but there was much less of it. The world was full of more off-whites in more hues than Edwin could've previously imagined. Charles' skin wasn't dissimilar. Pale-ish, but bearing pleasant warm under-and-overtones that made Edwin's look near-translucent by comparison.

"I mean, I'm half Indian," Charles continued. "Why am I so different?"

"That is a fair point," said Edwin, thoughtful, harkening back to some of the history books he'd skimmed of late. "They were the same country back when I was alive."

Fascinating how the times changed, new lines drawn in the sand. Fascinating, and frustrating. In the time Edwin had been gone wars had started and ended, entire countries had been ruptured, borders reshaped. And yet some of life's most persistent mysteries remained unanswered.

He'd not looked much into it, but it seemed little advancement had been made in understanding of the so-called 'soulmate' principle. It had been a frequent enough phenomenon to be common knowledge in Edwin's time, but no one ever had any real explanation for it. Plenty of spiritual explanations, of course. But it seemed no one could point to any tangible scientific reason why a person, upon hearing the voice of a certain other person, had the entire hidden colour spectrum revealed unto them. An entire dimension of the visible world remained inaccessible to the vast majority of the population, and still no one knew why, or even how. Clearly, there was still much research to be done on the subject.

And clearly, the notion of this mysterious person as a 'soulmate' was romantic drivel. Charles seemed a pleasant fellow, but he was a fellow. And two boys could hardly be soulmates, could they? No God-fearing Christian would embrace the concept if that were the case. So no, Charles couldn't possibly be his soulmate. Perhaps the phenomenon represented something else entirely. Like minds? Charles seemed an easy boy to get on with — and Edwin seldom got on with anybody. He even felt at ease sitting beside him on the hard attic floor, nearly touching. Perhaps Charles was simply his universe-appointed fastest friend; the one person in creation who could truly understand him.

Or maybe it was a cosmic fluke, a quirk of biology. Maybe it could have been absolutely anybody in the world.

Yes, that was probably it. Nothing deeper at play than that.

Still, it was a pity Charles would be dead before the night was out. Soulmate or not.

(Definitely not.)

"Right..." Charles mumbled. Followed by a frown. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"What d'you mean 'when you were alive'?"

Edwin looked at him. Charles still seemed rather small, rather sorry. A chilly little lump, all curled in on himself, even now they were side by side and of a height with one another. He looked cold, sallow. Not even the warm hues of the light Edwin had tentatively designated yellow could hide it, cheerful though it may be.

"You ought to move around a bit," said Edwin, standing smoothly. "You must keep your circulation going."

It would do no good, of course. But who knew? Charles might be hardier than Edwin gave him credit for.

"Edwin," said Charles, all seriousness. "What d'you mean when you were alive?"

Edwin's brow twitched. He held out his hand. "Get up, and I shall tell you."

Charles took his hand — and startled. "Fuck — you're colder than me, mate!"

"And for good reason. Come, now. Two or three quick laps of the room. I'll hold the lantern."

~

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead."

~ Wilfred Owen

Edwin had heard some truly hideous sounds in his time. Crunching bones, squelching organs, agonised screams. And yet somehow, the wheeze of Charles hacking up water from pulverised lungs was among the worst to date.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asked, hands clasped upon the table — lest he risk something overfamiliar like a pat on the back.

"I'm fine," Charles deflected, voice hoarse and unconvincing. "Just answer my question.

Charles was looking worse by the minute. The warm tones of his skin that Edwin had grown so fascinated by were receding under sallow grey. A new colour was blooming, in and around his eyes; in the puffy lids underneath, in the spiderwebbing veins across the whites.

This colour was not nearly so puzzling — the veins were a dead giveaway. Edwin had read more than enough crime literature to be able to identify the colour of blood.

So, this was the famous red. A bold colour, possibly quite charming in the right context; which this most assuredly was not. Edwin was no physician, but he'd read a number of medical textbooks. Charles bore all the hallmarks of a man bedevilled with internal bleeding. It was not a matter of whether he would die, but of what would kill him first; the cold, or the injuries.

He tore his gaze away. Anger, bitter and harsh, had him by the throat, had his fists clenching together until his gloves creaked. Who were those wretched boys, to lay hands upon Charles? To break him so? This boy who, insofar as Edwin could tell, hadn't a bad bone in his body? Whatever Charles was to him, soulmate or not (definitely, definitely not), he was his. He was supposed to be his, and soon he would be dead, and Edwin understood, now. Understood how people found themselves mired in Hell's fifth circle, swamped in wrath and rage. For no reason, no reason at all, those boys had taken Charles’ life without a care. Taken his life, and the colour from Edwin's eyes, all in one fell swoop. Soon both would be gone; and if Edwin ever found the hooligans responsible they'd have a formidable haunting on their hands.

"Nineteen thirteen, to..." he counted one, two, three, slowly. Collecting himself. "Nineteen sixteen."

"Bullshit." Charles cocked his head, a small smile of disbelief upon his lips. It was a charming expression, in its impertinence. "When did you go to school here for reals?"

"Nineteen thirteen to nineteen sixteen," Edwin repeated, slower. "I am dead, Charles."

Charles laughed. Edwin raised his eyebrows — and pretended not to be fascinated by the flash of not-red in Charles' mouth, his tongue and gums. What was the word for a light red, again? He was sure he'd read it somewhere...

The laughter died, and Charles' eyes went wider still. "...Oh."

There was more of that not-red than Edwin had thought, actually. The shells of Charles' ears, where the dawning light from the window glowed through translucent skin. He'd never considered that a person's ears might appear a different colour to the rest of them. How many secret tricks of the light had he been oblivious to all these years? How many more had he yet to discover? How many would he never get the chance to see for himself?

Just how much more could possibly be stolen from him?

"I... I dunno if this is, um, bad to ask, or what, but..." Charles swallowed. "How'd you die, mate?"

His lips, too, were redder than the rest of him; although that was fading, rapidly. Cooling at the edges. Edwin suspected that wasn't supposed to be the case.

"As I said," Edwin replied, sadly. "We had bullies, too."

~

"Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

~ Robert Frost

He had Charles move around again, though it was clear it would serve no purpose. He was delaying the inevitable. Charles was all but shutting down already; the occasional boost to his circulatory system was hardly going to bring him back from Death's door.

But perhaps Charles would beat the odds. Why not? He seemed a resilient fellow. Perhaps he would, indeed, outlast the night, see another day. Perhaps help would arrive. Perhaps Edwin could give him the push he needed to survive this if he only persisted.

Besides, he couldn't let Charles seize up and expire just yet. Charles had questions and damn it all, Edwin would answer them!

"Actually, you can move around any space however you like," Edwin explained. "It is not that you cannot touch things, you just cannot feel them."

A blessing in disguise, on occasion. Though Edwin had done his utmost to fill up this nook by the window with whatever musty blankets and futons he could salvage, he doubted the floor was comfortable. He himself sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bracing for discomfort he couldn't feel. It was far from ideal. But he supposed that a hard floor was the least of Charles' problems.

Charles was rapidly declining. That cool tinge upon his lips was growing more prominent, his coughs harsher and more visceral-sounding. But here, at least, he seemed as snug as Edwin could make him. Swaddled like a babe, tucked up against the cluttered old shelves. Perhaps this was warm enough to get him through. It certainly seemed warm, with the yellow light burning merrily on.

It glowed not only off Charles' skin and his eyes, but a myriad small reflective surfaces strewn about the forgotten nook. Edwin was particularly taken with the shimmer of it off what appeared to be a dented instrument — possibly a tuba? — near Charles' head. Metals had always looked very similar to one another, in Edwin's grayscale vision. Now he could see the metal of the horn was a somewhat deeper shade than that of, say, the earring Charles wore. Finally, he could see first-hand the differences between the precious and non-precious metals. Alas, he had few of them to choose from, and little way of knowing which was which. He supposed it safe to assume that the instrument was brass, hence its orchestral designation.

But the metal Charles was wearing was his favourite so far. It had a little of the yellow about it, but richer, more lustrous. Edwin found himself quite transfixed by the way it fluttered and flickered in the light.

He was familiar with the saying all that glitters is not gold, of course. But for want of further evidence, gold seemed as good a guess as any.

"It's stupid, but... I think I'd miss kissing," said Charles. He looked right at Edwin, earring and eyes twinkling with the motion. He did have... handsome eyes. Edwin simply must figure out what colour they were. Of a similar hue but different tone to his hair, to the old wooden shelves at his back. "Do you miss kissing?"

"Mmm-mmmm," Edwin mumbled, with a small shake of his head. "No. Not as such."

How many people had Charles kissed, he wondered? Surely not an abundance, they were of a similar age. Had he kissed someone this month, this week? Today? Before his lips grew cold and chapped, when they were... oh, what was that word for a lighter red? Pink, yes, that was it.

Then again, perhaps he went about with painted lips in every day life. He already wore some sort of cosmetic on his eyes, after all, so maybe it wasn't a stretch for a modern young man. Imagine. A boy, staining the lips of his paramours with lipstick when he kissed them...

Goodness. The world really had moved on.

Edwin cleared his throat. "No," he repeated, firmly. "No, I don't miss kissing."

He supposed it was fine that Charles liked it, though. And maybe he'd get the chance to do it again. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlive the dawn chorus, until the teachers noticed his absence and sent people searching. Then he could keep on living, and kissing and whatever else he wished to do and Edwin...

Well, Charles probably wouldn't have much use for a ghost friend. But at least Edwin could keep the colours. Just a little while longer.

Charles chuckled. It was a bit of a sadder sound than the last time Edwin heard it. "Must've had some shit kisses in your life, mate."

Edwin smiled, tightly. "Something of that ilk."

"Shame we weren't mates," said Charles. "I'd've..."

"You'd have... what?"

A smattering of colour returned to Charles' face, then. It might've been a trick of the light, but Edwin could've sworn his cheeks warmed. "I'd've... well, I'd've found you someone to snog, wouldn't I?" he laughed, drawing his blanket closer around his chin. "Got some fit mates from my old school. And the birds proper fancy the brainy lads."

Edwin frowned. "The... birds?"

"Y'know. Lasses. Girls."

"Oh." For whatever reason, Edwin felt... disappointed. And not just at the apparently abysmal state of modern slang. "Yes. Girls."

He cocked his head, watching Charles carefully. He was a very good looking boy. And he wasn't Edwin's soulmate, couldn't be, but...

Edwin cleared his throat. "Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look..." He wavered. "...Unusual, at all? To you?"

Charles blinked. "Um. Well. Outfit's a bit retro." His eyes widened slightly, a dash of mortification. "Not being rude! I like it! It's... it's cool."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I don't mean my outfit, I mean... have you noticed anything different about this room since I walked in?" he pressed.

"Well, yeah."

Edwin inhaled. "You have?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in closer. "What have you noticed exactly?"

Charles smiled weakly. "Well. It... feels a lot less lonely. With you here. Warmer, too." He chuckled. "Daft as that sounds. With you being dead, and all."

Edwin's fingers flexed on his knees — all he could do to stop himself hugging them, wretchedly, to his heart. "Yes," he agreed, dully. "Daft, indeed..."

~

"Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it’s loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star."

~ Kobo Abe

Edwin had only ever known one person ‘fortunate’ enough to meet her soulmate.

Aunt Florence had always been a bit of an odd duck. Flighty and fickle, a perpetual embarrassment to her brother — Edwin's father — whose job it had been to lend financial support to her spinster lifestyle. As she alleged it, she'd found her soulmate in the late eighteen seventies. For reasons undisclosed (to Edwin, at least) they had never married. Edwin had never had the pleasure of meeting her mysterious match.

She had always seemed very fascinated with the world around her, Aunt Florence. A trait she shared with Edwin; though while his interest lay in facts, hers lay in aesthetics. He’d seen her dedicate hours to the study of a singular rose petal in her garden. Edwin was told she could do quite beautiful things with oil paints, for those with eyes to see. They were passable, too, in black and white, but lacking dimension.

Once, when Edwin was about nine or so, Aunt Florence had taken his chin between her willowy fingers.

"What lovely eyes you have, my boy," she'd said, in a smoker's croak. Uncouth for a woman to smoke, particularly one of her social standing, but she'd never much cared what others thought of her. Her tobacco-stained nail had nipped his chin as she held him close. "Your mother's eyes. Sea green... You'll find yourself someone who can appreciate them, won't you?"

Edwin, of course, had had no idea what green was, and little desire to find out. Not if finding a so-called soulmate was the prerequisite condition. He was of an age where the fixation that grown-ups seemed to have on kissing one another was both vexing and perplexing to him. A phase of his life that, to be frank, he'd never entirely left behind. He'd extricated himself from Aunt Florence's talons as politely as possible, and given her a wide berth for the rest of her visit.

The next time he'd seen her, she had taken one look at his eyes, and burst into tears.

They all ended the same way, these soulmate stories. It was a law of nature. Death was not neat, or particularly fair. No matter how blissfully happy the pair, someone always had to leave first; and when they did, the colour left with them.

Some, at least, got time to enjoy it all. Before their love — and their colour — died away. A few decades, or years. Months, even.

Some, like Edwin, got far less. Hours, if that.

And some, like Charles Rowland, got no time at all.

~

"They're out of the dark's ragbag, these two

Moles dead in the pebbled rut,

Shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart —

Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.

One, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,

Little victim unearthed by some large creature

From his orbit under the elm root.

The second carcass makes a duel of the affair:

Blind twins bitten by bad nature."

~ Sylvia Plath

"Shut up, mate. That is brills."

Edwin was inclined to agree. Especially now he could appreciate the full effect. He'd been aware, of course, that his form seemed to partially dissolve into a mirage when he passed through solid surfaces. He'd been unaware that the mirage seemed to possess a certain hue. Not unlike the hue beginning to bleed through the filthy window.

The pre-dawn light was different to the majority of the colours Edwin had identified so far. It was colder. Greyer. Pale and stark against the opaque black silhouette of the distant treeline (interesting, how the trees still seemed black in this light. He wondered if he'd get a chance to see this green he'd heard so much about before the night was over.) If Charles' face was warmed by the yellow lamplight, it was cooled at the edges by the seeping tones through the glass.

This, like the red and the blood, came with an easy reference point. Everybody knew that the sky was supposed to be blue.

Seemed Edwin finally had a word for the sickly tint of Charles' lips.

"Why don't you fall through the floor?" Charles asked, puzzled.

"There are many, many, so-called ghost rules," said Edwin, sagely. He had, after all, spent several weeks conducting his own personal study and compiling the rules himself. "I shan't waste your time listing them."

"Well, I only asked about the floor, didn't I?" said Charles, a teasing lilt to his lip. Honestly, the cheek of the man.

"Because I choose not to fall through the floor," Edwin replied, in utterly falsified exasperation. "Happy?"

Charles had a certain way of smiling; one that spread up from his grinning mouth and into his eyes. Despite the cold, miserable state of the rest of him they fairly shone with warmth, a merry humour. A knowing gleam that said 'look at us, in on the joke'.

Edwin had never been in on the joke, before.

Charles chuckled; and Edwin did likewise, helpless to the draw of it. The magnetic sound. It had his lips lifting of their own volition — even as his heart sank further and further into the floor.

The blue devils, that's what his father had called it. On those rare occasions when he acknowledged Mother's low mood, or found Edwin weeping silently upon his bed. "You've just got the blue devils, my boy. Chin up, now, and soldier on. You've better things to do than mope."

He could feel them, now, those blue devils upon his shoulder. Cold, heavy, and the colour of Charles' bloodless lips. Weighing Edwin down like stones in his pockets. He hadn't felt hot or cold in decades, but now he felt as Charles must have done with the chill lake pressing down upon him, filling his lungs. And unlike Charles, he wasn't sure he possessed the tenacity to break the surface before the bubbles stopped.

He'd fought his way from the pits of Hell itself, and yet this climb seemed more insurmountable by far. He was no longer fighting his way from the dark to the light. There was no light above the surface of this icy water, no light at all. The light was here, the entire spectrum of it; above was only grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye could see.

"Oi," said Charles. He looked so very tired; but still inquisitive to a fault. "What other cool stuff can you do, then?"

Edwin huffed. "I can travel through mirrors, if you must know."

Charles' blue lips parted, breath escaping on a wonderstruck wheeze. "Wicked."

He ought to be more careful with his breaths. He couldn't have had all that many left to draw.

~

"We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth; it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death."

~ John Burroughs

Charles Rowland passed away in the small hours of the morning. Edwin didn't even need to look up from the page; he just watched the pinkish tint bleed from his own ghostly fingertips, and made a deduction.

Even before his passing, Edwin hadn't looked directly at Charles in some time. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. The colour in his ailing new friend had diminished all but completely, his skin a sallow patina, his lips a cracked grey slate.

Edwin had only come to know colour on this night, and already he could feel its absence like a hole in his heart. He understood, now, why Aunt Florence had dragged herself so mournfully through her twilight years. Going through the motions of existing. Colour, for Aunt Florence, had been life; without it, there was simply no point living.

Somehow, Edwin found his voice, and he read on. Because Edwin was no Aunt Florence, arty and flighty and prone to outpourings of passion. Edwin was his father's son; he soldiered on. No matter what.

But the ache in his chest persisted, despite his best efforts to quash it. There had been so much yet to see. He'd never witnessed the colour purple — an expensive hue of which he'd heard a great many appreciative things. He'd never seen a flower, any flower, in full bloom, or watched one of those famous sunsets.

In the end, he never even got to see what his aunt meant about his eyes. But he had no reflection anymore, so. Perhaps that one was always a lost cause.

On the topic of lost causes; there was someone else in this room with him, yet. Someone who'd lost far more than a fleeting glimpse of creation in technicolour.

""— I cease to believe,"" Edwin finished reading with a soft, forced chuckle. To no response. He looked up to find Charles standing tall, gaze turned to the window. It was the first time all night he'd been without his blanket; and the first time he'd borne not the slightest shiver.

Well. At least he would never be cold again.

"Not enjoying this one?" Edwin prompted, gently. "Carrados the blind detective was just becoming quite popular in my day."

When Charles turned around, of course Edwin already knew what he would find. Knew what his own eyes would fall upon when they followed Charles’ gaze.

But knowing did not prepare him for the reality. The cold, desaturated tableau of Charles Rowland's demise, illuminated like a crime scene in the stark white light of the lantern. How a person so vital, so vibrant as Charles should be without blood and colour defied all reason. And yet there he lay; bereft of hue, and of life.

Edwin swallowed, and closed the book gently upon Max Carrados. "When you could see me, I knew it was too late."

Charles was silent. For the first time all night. Silent as the grave.

"But I simply..." Edwin hesitated. "I did not want to scare you."

In the corner of Edwin's eye, the lantern guttered and died. Good. It didn't seem right; all that light upon Charles, and not a drop of warmth in it.

"Well. Glad you didn't say anything." Charles' voice was stronger, now. How different he sounded, without the rattle of lake water in his lungs.

Charles looked at his hands. As did Edwin. How strange they appeared, in the bleak grey of Edwin's impoverished eyes. How unsettlingly close to the pallor his skin had taken on in his death throes. And yet he wasn't pallid, not in the slightest. Standing tall, unchained from his ailing flesh, he was more wholly and healthily Charles than Edwin had yet seen him.

"Doesn't feel like I imagined. Being dead," said Charles, thoughtful. "Feels okay, doesn't it?"

In truth, there was nothing remotely 'okay' about this situation. Edwin felt... robbed. He felt robbed. Because he would never know the colour of Charles' skin when it wasn't frozen grey, or beaten black and blue. He'd never see this Charles, standing tall in the dawning sunlight, the way he was designed to be seen. The way he was chosen, by God or fate or an impossible quirk of biology to be seen, by Edwin. Only by Edwin. For he was Edwin's, no more could he deny it.

And Charles would never see Edwin. Not the way Edwin saw him. Because by the time they met, it was already too late. Because in a wretched twist of fate, Charles’ soulmate — his unfortunate, unorthodox soulmate — was dead in the ground before Charles was even born.

And Edwin had thought Hell to be cruel and unusual punishment.

"I sincerely wish we could have been friends for longer," said Edwin, dropping the magazine and standing from his seat on the old trunk. "But Death will come for you, now. You should go with her when she arrives."

He turned, and began his brisk march to the door. What's done is done; and Charles was, unmistakably, done. Done in and done for, done in just about every sense.

So Charles would be off, now. He'd be off, and Edwin would just have to carry him, too. In his head, with his facts and his torments and a thousand tiny heartbreaks. What was another one, in the grand scheme of things? What else was there to do in this fugitive afterlife but keep his chin up, and soldier on?

"Well I'm not ready, am I?” Charles called out. “I don't wanna go somewhere else, yet."

Edwin faltered. Turned. Charles was watching him.

"What if I stay here for a bit with you, instead?" said Charles, preposterously.

"Then you will always be running from her," was Edwin's quick, logical response. But Charles was still watching him with those... those damnably appealing eyes, and he felt the need to defend his case. "Also, I'm not good with other people. And I only just came back to this school after escaping Hell, so. I'm out of practice, to be perfectly frank. So. When the light comes. You stay, and I go."

He smiled, tightly, and turned once more. There. He'd avoided mentioning Hell all night, but it was done, now. No boy with a lick of sense would —

"Well, I'm aces with other people."

… He simply could not be serious.

"Pretty chuffed you got out of Hell, mate," Charles continued, maddeningly blasé. "That sounds hard. Nice job."

Edwin turned on him, incredulous. "That is not how you make decisions," he snapped, taking a challenging step towards Charles. "Just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment!"

"It's how I lived my life."

Charles turned his head, looked down at his own body. Edwin couldn't bring himself to do likewise.

"Doesn't seem all that different now."

Charles looked at Edwin, unflinching. And what a different creature he was, free of cold and pain. Lithe but lax, eyes slightly narrowed in almost catlike contemplation of Edwin. He stood before a hellbound soul, near naked and freshly dead, and yet the easygoing slope of his narrow shoulders bore no strain.

He shrugged, nonchalant. White light glimmered from his dangling earring. "Looks like you're stuck with me.”

For a moment it was nigh on impossible to believe he hadn't seen it, too. Hadn't seen the spectrum unfold when Edwin said his name. Because how else could someone look at anyone, let alone Edwin, with such certainty? As if he'd never been more sure of anything or anyone in his tragically short life.

Breathtaking was not a word Edwin liked to use lightly. In fact, he preferred not to use it at all. Who had ever seen something so rare, so staggeringly beautiful they'd lost their breath? It was the sort of word Aunt Florence would have used; flowery and hyperbolic.

It seemed Edwin owed her yet another apology.

Light flared in the corner. Their eyes leapt to it. It was of no colour that Edwin could see and yet he could feel it, deep in his soul, he knew its shape and colour; blue. A kinder, softer blue than that of bloodless lips and dreary skies. The wild blue yonder that he was barred from forevermore; the one that awaited Charles Rowland with open arms.

Charles looked at Edwin.

Edwin looked at Charles.

Charles smiled, soul glowing lantern-bright in those dark, confident eyes. He didn't move, not towards the light or away from it, but he held out his hand. Planted like a tree, unbending, unbowed. His roots sunk deep into the loamy earth of life; his branches beckoning Edwin into their boughs.

Oh, thought Edwin, when he understood — didn't see, simply understood — the colour that had been gazing back at him all along. That's the word I was looking for.

~

Thirty years passed, fading into memory, and with them faded the sting. It was hard to mourn the loss of colour when one could scarcely remember what it looked like in the first place. Those fleeting hours blended and blurred amidst the grey years, lost to time; a single hand-tinted frame in a hundred miles of monochrome celluloid.

Though he tried to remember, Edwin struggled to visualise the yellow light that had bathed their faces; the gold that glinted at the cut of Charles' jaw. Pink lips, red veins, the blue stain of death. Such things were impossible to note down in a world of black ink and white pages, and his aide-mémoires soon failed him. The colours fluttered away into the past, scattered to the winds of memory like his mother's smile, his father's voice, Aunt Florence's smoky laughter and the roses she painted on the guest room walls.

But though he could not recall the exact shade of Charles' eyes, nor compare them to any other — not even his own — Edwin knew something about them. Just as he knew Death's light shone heavenly blue. And for once in Edwin's long and tormented afterlife, he felt truly fortunate. Because he'd been allowed to experience only a fraction of what the visible spectrum had to offer; colours he could count on less than two hands.

And yet somehow, by some stroke of luck, he'd seen the best one nonetheless.

~

"At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation - the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence."

~ Aldous Huxley

~~

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, my darlings 💛 Love to hear your thoughts! Reminder to check out Olly's amazing gifs! This one took a little while to come together, bc in my first draft Edwin's feelings/progression were a bit all over the place. But I realised that all the sections of the attic scene (not including the very first one/my inserted flashback about Aunt Florence) could track along the five stages of grief quite nicely and that gave me a good framework to loosely follow, starting in his denial of the implications and ending in devastated acceptance of what he's lost. As to why he didn't like, *tell* Charles, well, what would you do? Be honest? If you were a dead Edwardian ghost boy and you found out your actual soulmate was not only another boy, but a doomed one? One who isn't even seeing what you're seeing. Maybe he thought Charles wouldn't believe him, or would take it badly. Maybe he thought telling him would sway him unfairly into staying when Edwin believed he should go. I think he will tell him, one day. And Charles is gonna be PISSED that he kept it from him so long xD For the quotes, I tried to stick to things Edwin could possibly have read, so pre-1989 things, as I like the idea of him using literature as a framework for understanding what he's seeing. It was really interesting writing about colour from the perspective of someone with no reference for it! Some of the quotes might have ended up anachronistic by a couple of years, tbh people are *shit* at sourcing their quotes and while I could source authors easy enough it was hard sometimes to isolate what specific book/anthology the piece came from, or what year it was published. If I'd have had more time I would have done more digging! Anyway, that's about all I got right now. I dunno when I'll be back, probably (hopefully) in a few weeks with the next chapter of Lonely Bones. In the meantime please, feel free to continue chatting with me in the comments, on my tumblr, come be a pal, I've had the time of my life with y'all this week and I'm not ready to get off this train just yet! Until next time! 💛

[foggysroom]

What do you expect from Born Again? I for one am cautiously excited. It's a shame Foggy is going to die, but I don't think he would have much meaning anyway. Don't get me wrong, I like him. But I love Matt, Karen and Frank more. I think it's time for his story to end. I'm sure Foggy's sacrifice will give Karen the anger she needs to pick up her gun in revenge and Matt a reason to let the devil out so I think it will be worth it. Or maybe his death will be poetic and beautiful and temporary. Although I don't think he really fits the tone of the series. Karen has a more dramatic appeal and Frank too. Foggy is only cute and sweet. I hope you don't get upset with my question And my opinion on Foggy

I thought a lot before deciding whether to answer this question since I don't know if it's valid or just another one like the millions of hateful asks about Elden and Foggy that I've received over the years.

And even if the reason for this ask is to hurt me, I believe that all opinions need to be heard, even when I disagree.

I've said this more than once: I don't plan on watching Born Again. Period.

I don't want to re-watch, revisit a scene I've seen thousands of times on the internet. I don't want to see Foggy on the concrete, getting a shot that wasn't aimed at him.

Even if it is a temporary death. Even if he just gets hurt. No, I don't want to watch that.

I don't want to see Matt and Karen (without Foggy) reminiscing about old memories. I don't want to see Matt living life as if Foggy isn't an important person to him. I don't want to watch a show where Foggy, who used to be the heart of the show, appears in one or two episodes.

I know, I know I'll end up watching bits and pieces here and there because people won't get tired of posting edits, scene cuts, photos, gifs etc. And I don't like blocking people just because they have opinions that go against mine. I only block haters, etc.

Believe me, I'm glad Karen has a lot of heart in the show. After all, I fought for years for Elden and Deborah to return alongside Charlie for this show. I'm really happy for her and her fans. And I think it's beautiful that Jon cared so much about her to the point of saying that he would only return to the role if she was also on the show.

I just wish the Born Again writers knew that Foggy is also a crucial character. Not just because he's Matt's friend. Foggy has a rich history and is very capable of having a good plot even without a weapon, even without powers, without sexual appeal. I just wish (and hope) that Born Again doesn't erase all the importance of the original Foggy. In Elden's words: "Even though he's a little clumsy, Foggy is not an idiot." Foggy is smart, good, and intelligent.

I'm sure the directors did the best they could to fit Foggy into a plot that was almost complete. We need to remember that Foggy was going to die off-screen in the first script. And Karen wasn't even mentioned. So, I believe it was easier to fit Karen in there, giving her more scenes.

It's wonderful that Karen is a badass, has a gun, and is her own hero. I love Karen so much! But Foggy, Foggy was always the heart, and nothing survives without a heart.

Good-hearted people are strong in their own way. (this part makes me start crying, hell, I hate being so stupid)

And it's naive to think that a hero show will only be good if it has shooting, blood, sex, and things like that.

I don't know about you, but what made me love the show was the human and fragile part.

It was seeing that the girl wasn't so fragile and weak, that she is flawed and tries her best despite everything. She found a family (two idiots) and fought tooth and nail to protect Foggy and Matt from Fisk.

That Matt, the hero, is fragile, silly, pathetic. Sexy in his sweatpants and socks. That he feels pain, he cries, he feels angry and feels incapable most of the time.

That the silly friend (and useless in most opinion) is brave, strong, the one who goes for sex for consolation. Who has a family like everyone else.

These things, this human part were what made me love the show. Although I've been a Daredevil fan since childhood and admittedly an Elden fan since childhood as well.

These characters were like family to me.

The three of them!

Will I change my mind about Born Again? The second season, perhaps. But again, out of respect for Elden and Foggy, no, I don't intend to watch a scene that I've seen thousands of times and that has sometimes been mocked. And it still hurts me.

In Elden's words: The show is going to be amazing! I'm sure. But not for me.

[usmsgutterson]

Hi! I’m here to send in a request for platonic crows x reader where the reader can shapeshift - The main thing I was thinking of was just kinda friendship w the crows in general and their reactions to different things they learn about reader overtime and what they first though about reader vs now. Also here’s some ideas I’ve had about reader for if you do choose to do this request that might help!

-> I feel like reader would probably be able to change their body to be able to take on like a half form of things so like they could give them-self ears or something and depending on if they have a ‘Main form’ of sorts they could probably have some of the features of that thing like idk enhanced hearing or their good at being quiet/Sneaky.

-> Also I imagine that they might get like aches if they haven’t done it in a long while just based on the fact that in a way it’s like changing your bones/Bone structure if that makes sense so if they do it too much (Like an unhealthy amount like every single day for hours on end) Or haven’t done it in a long time they’d get aches n stuff

-> and also (Last thing I promise) They would probably use smaller/Quieter forms to scare/sneak up on people and just be an overall menace rlly

And of course if you aren’t interested in doing this request that’s fine too! Just let me know ^^ hope you have a wonderful day! :]

(Also could I be an anon? If so could I be 🍒Anon?)

Platonic! Crows x gn! Shapeshifter! Reader Headcanons

Hi! You can totally be the cherry anon if you want, that's cool with me! I'm sorry it took me a bit to see this, I've been writing requests from the bottom of my inbox to the top of it lately so that I could get the oldest requests done first, and seeing this in my inbox, I just knew I'd have a blast! I was right, writing this was so much fun.

I did it as headcanons to keep the fic from breaching a 15k word limit which I knew I'd get to if I let myself and I didn't want this fic to run too long! I hope that that's all right with you and if not, I apologize and I can rewrite if you'd like me to!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings-mentions of tarantulas, flies (the reader once turns themself into a fly on the wall) and spiders

(no gif because I sadly couldn't find one of the crows on the rooftop)

Okay, so!

Your status as a shapeshifter is kind of just...known amongst the crows? 

Like, they all know about it and it just kind of exists as another one of your attributes. It’s not a big deal, and nobody has ever really made it out to be.

You’re able to enhance your hearing so that you can hear pretty far out, which comes in handy a lot on heist jobs, especially if you can make it so that you can be standing on the total opposite side of wherever you need to be for the heist and still be able to hear Kaz and Nina bickering at the checkpoint. 

You’re also able to make yourself quieter, which comes in handy a lot on jobs too, especially when you need to focus on being stealthy and go unseen and unheard. 

Now that I think of it, there’s probably a way that you can shift to match your surroundings or like, make them match you kind of, and make yourself invisible, which is actually a super cool concept and I don’t want to get sidetracked by it, so next thing!

There’s a healthy amount of times that you should shapeshift on a regular basis. You go off that and start doing it too much or not doing it enough, you get really bad aches and pains.

I feel like you’d get them all over and they would hurt as much as a really bad migraine. It happens at random and can sometimes last a couple of days, too. All in all, the pain part of it isn’t really a fun or enjoyable experience so you try to shapeshift consistently

YOU WOULD TOTALLY SHAPESHIFT INTO RANDOM SHIT TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF PEOPLE-

forgive the caps, I would a thousand percent do the same thing and I got excited when I remembered that that was a possibility.

You’d probably shapeshift into something like a tarantula and just spend hours relaxing in a random corner of Wylans lab weaving webs and hanging from the ceiling and being all cool, and then Jesper comes in and you go to greet him and he’s like “saints, what is that?"

and then Wylan is just like “it’s Y/N? Their favorite color is the dots on their back? How could you not recognize them?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Wylan, I’m just not so used to seeing my best friend as a bloody tarantula!” 

You probably shapeshift into a cat to be a menace to Kaz 

the concept of you just kind of showing up at his office window and then doing that thing that cats do where they nap in direct line of wherever the sun is coming in is something I love more than life itself

that’s nOT MENACING, BACK ON TRACK

AFTER you’ve sunbathed an appropriate amount of time, you, in the form of a cat, jump onto Kaz’s desk and glare at him the entirety of the time that it takes you to bring his to-go cup of coffee closer and closer to the edge of his desk, until it tips over and spills. 

that concept has made me laugh for the last ten minutes

Kaz almost hates you for that every time you do it, even though he knows you’re only doing it because he did something to piss you off first and he just considers it fair when he remembers that much. 

You also buy him a replacement coffee out of the kindness of your heart, though you never actually apologize to him

to be menacing in the direction of Matthias and Nina, you also take up the form of a spider. Neither of them really like spiders and you just kind of mess with them for two minutes before it gets old and you switch into something else.

Inej is a cat person through and through, and there aren’t many ways in which you can mess with her, nor do you want to because knife wife WILL use knives if she doesn't recognize the fact that whatever you shift into is you and the possibility, though slight, is still there.

You go to Inej as a cat the most often, though. 

You’re able to keep up with her when she’s running through the barrel on her missions for Kaz, and the naps in the sun are best when you’re laying on one of Inejs coats while she spars with Jesper

You’ve also been a literal fly on the wall to get intel for Kaz before, but that was because you’d offered, and it was exhausting. You got a lot of good intel from that but you were like “nah, never again. Not for less than a hundred million kruge. Never”

generally, it’s a very chaotic but a very fun existence, and you wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything

[triflesandparsnips]

So I was, as per normal, thinking again about Stede just collapsing into the cabin-kiss, and like-- we talk a lot about how Stede had just killed a guy, he was maybe not in the best headspace for sexy times, but--

in looking around for a kiss gif (AS PER NORMAL), I saw this one too:

...and I've been wondering and wondering about that face, right? Stede's face. A bit silly, kind of the embodiment of "smiling helplessly", a phrase that sounds bad out of context but usually appears when someone is just absolutely delighted by the existence of something-- or someone-- doing something ridiculous and amazing...

And it occurred to me that: Stede went to hide in his room so he could freak out, right? He's used to hiding, or trying to hide, how he feels when it comes to the childhood trauma stuff. And he's used to literally hiding in his cabin unless/until someone approaches that he has to mask back up for-- we see that all the way back in the very first episode of season 1.

But that night? The person who approached was Ed.

And not there asking him to be 'the captain'. Not telling him to 'man up' about the killing thing. Not even asking him to be the Romantic Lead or the Lost Love Return'd, roles Stede had been eager and wanting to play but just. not right now.

It could've gone wrong. Stede didn't say "come in"-- he didn't say anything at all, just opened the door, maybe expecting-- god, what he's gotten before, every single other time his entire life--

And Ed... changes the script.

He doesn't step in, doesn't break Stede's boundary, doesn't ask for anything from Stede. He just wants to see if Stede's okay. And more than that: By providing his own feelings about killing his dad, he's letting Stede know that, for the record? Stede doesn't have to be okay.

So... so for maybe the first time that Stede can remember-- or at least maybe the first time we see on-screen-- Stede is hurting, and. And someone comes to comfort him.

No ulterior motives. No quid pro quo. No requirement that he feel one way or another, be this or that kind of person.

Someone-- no, not just someone, Ed, who knows Stede, who's seen him and understood him and could ask so much from Stede if he wanted to-- just sees that he's hurting, and wants to help.

And like-- have you ever felt that kind of kindness? It's heady enough when it's a stranger. But when it's someone you know, someone you care about, someone you trust (hope, pray that you can trust) to hold the delicate, vulnerable heart of you--

Fuck, okay, that face, that silly face, that face that says nothing but looks like it's about to cry and to laugh and it's heartbreak for the past that never felt that kind of comfort and wonder for the person who made it possible in the present and it all adds up to just smiling helplessly--

Listen.

They say that in musicals, songs happen when a character's feelings are too strong for mere dialogue to contain.

I say that in this moment, Stede's actions aren't because he's addled from the kill, but because his feelings-- what love can mean beyond "romance", what it does, what it gives, what it allows, what it makes possible-- rise up and over and wash his hands against Ed's jacket and twist them both to the wall, and then, and then--

just collapse him into that warm embrace, where all the hundred thousand words he could try to find to explain what this love feels like can, for a short while at least, be transmuted into a form that can say them all at once.

[bteezxyewriter12]

Admire

Pairing- Yeosang x Named Reader

Word count- 8k

Includes- Fluff, secret admirer, fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, missionary, slight dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13

Gif Credit- woochwe

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Yeosang Masterlist

J POV

"So valentine's day is coming up", Yeosang teases

I pause the movie we're watching and turn to glare at him

He really wants to do this?

He finally is able to hang out with me after ATEEZ promotions ended and he wants to piss me off?

Fine

"Oh wow, you can read a calendar. Congratulations", I grumble

He laughs, "Got a date this year?"

He's really pushing my buttons

I've never had a valentine or even a boyfriend

I've never kissed anyone or had sex

I've never held a guy's hand

I'm not like him

I'm not confident, beautiful or friendly

He has his pick of thousands of girls who throw themselves at him

It's easy for him to get a date or a one night stand

As for me, ever since I was a kid, I was the ugly friend

Yeosang is the only guy I can speak to and that's because we've been best friends since infanthood

Around other guys I'm shy, stuttering, my face is constantly red and I'm awkward

A total fucking dork that loves video games, books, Pokemon and dungeons and dragons

I can't even talk to the ATEEZ members and I've known them for five years

"What do you think?", I snap

"C'mon Jo, you need to get a date sometime"

No I don't

I've given up

Out of my group of girls friends, I'm the unattractive one

In school, no one ever wanted to date me, often asking one of my friends out

The guys I liked liked my friends instead of me

My friends tried to talk to guys for me, hyping me up but the guy always rejected going out with me

And my friends are beautiful, Yeosang included so I've always felt so ugly

It's not their fault but mine

So I've given up on finding a guy

Especially since the guy I want is him

I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole and I will go to the grave with that secret

To be able to be around him and speak to him, I push away the feelings, lock it in a box inside me and shove it away

"Why are you giving me a fucking hard time Yeo? You know I can't talk to guys and you know no one wants me anyway"

"That's not true", he says to which I snort

"Stop fucking with me. No one likes the way I look and no one knows my personality because I'm catatonic around guys. So spare me"

"Well maybe you should try dressing differently"

Not this shit again

Ever since he joined ATEEZ, Yeosang is so into fashion and he's constantly trying to give me advice or take me shopping

It sounds like he's being an ass but he's not

He's really trying to help me

But I refuse to change the way I am

If someone wants me, I'm not going to pretend to be someone else

"Maybe not wear only tshirts and sweatpants. Maybe wear your hair down sometimes. Maybe put some makeup on. Maybe get some contacts"

No

I tried putting eyeliner on once and I almost took an eye out

I tried contacts and I couldn't get them in at the optical store

I kept stabbing myself in the eye with my finger and any time I got the contact in, I blinked and it fell out

I'm sticking with my glasses

I hate my hair in my face so I always wear it in a ponytail or bun

It's long but I'm scared to cut it because I've never had short hair before and I'm afraid it's gonna look stupid on me

So hair up it is

And as for my clothes I like slightly baggy tshirts to hide my big boobs and sweatpants are the most comfortable

I hate dresses, jeans that are too tight and tighter shirts show my boobs and dirty guys always say nasty shit to me

I'm not dealing with that

"No Yeo. I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not. If a guy wants me they get me how I am. It just so happens no one wants me."

"But-"

"No buts Yeo. Just stop talking about it. I'm destined to be alone and I'm fine with it", I tell him, lying through my teeth

Of course I want a boyfriend

I want someone who loves me, I want to be in a relationship, I want to have sex, I want to get married, I want kids

But right now I don't think it's in the cards and it may not be in the future either

I try to not think about it

"Jo-"

"What about you?", I interrupt, "Do you have a date?"

I want to stop talking about me

Better yet I want to get back to the movie

He smirks and that tells me that yeah he does

"Yeah"

"Oh. Nice. Is it the makeup artist you were telling me about?"

A few weeks ago he was telling me how pretty this girl is, that he likes her personality and was thinking about asking her out

My heart deflated a little but I'm happy for him

I'll always support him in anything and as long as he's happy I'm good

"No. A new girl"

"New girl? Where'd you meet her?", I ask, ignoring the pain in my chest

"At a fan meet"

"Is she....a fan?", I ask, surprised

He always said he'd never date a fan because they only knew the idol him and wanted him only based on that

He'd fuck them yeah but date no

I guess the right girl can make things change

"Yeah, she's a fan"

Fucking lucky bitch

"How'd you get her number?"

I know security is serious during these fan meets

After all, a crazy sasaeng could show up with the intention to hurt the idols

"Had her write it on a post it. Told her I'd text her", he explains, "I did, we talked for a few weeks and we have a date on valentine's day"

Yeah she's so fucking lucky

"Well that's great", I answer, fake smile plastered to my face, "I hope it all works out for you"

He nods, "Me too"

After a minute of silence, I say, "Can we get back to the movie?"

He nods, "Yeah Jo"

I nod, looking back at the TV and unpause the movie

Grabbing a pillow, I hold it tightly to me, forcing myself to watch the movie

Forcing myself to lock the hurt I feel about Yeosang going on a date with a fan in that tiny box inside me so I can continue to be fine

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

Valentine's Day

"Joanne!", Balam calls me

I look up from the pills I'm putting into the bottle

"What? I'm counting", I answer

I can't get this wrong or bad things can happen to the patient

"There's a delivery for you"

What?

What delivery?

This is my job

I never order anything to the pharmacy

It's always to my apartment

So what the fuck?

"You need to sign for it"

I sigh, pouring the pills I put in the bottle out and back into the pile

I have to recount it

Getting up from my spot, I walk to the front of the pharmacy

A guy is standing by the register with a bouquet of flowers

Bypassing him, I look around for the delivery guy

"Uh Balam, there's no one here"

"The flowers genius", Balam says from the register, "The flowers are your delivery"

Flowers?

I can't take care of flowers

Everyone knows I kill them even when I try to care for them

I walk to the guy who hands me a clipboard with papers on it

"Sign please"

I scan the paperwork and sign the bottom

He hands me the bouquet then leaves

"Who's your Valentine?", Balam teases

I roll my eyes, "I don't have one. Hence why I'm working on Valentine's day"

I literally have no idea who sent this

"Read the card genius"

Turning the bouquet, I find the card on the other side

Pulling it out, my hand grazes the petals of the flowers and they feel strange

Holding the flowers to my nose, I smell them

They don't smell like flowers, more like a flowery perfume

The fuck?

Opening the card, it says

I know you aren't great with real flowers so I thought I'd get you ones that can last forever

Love,

Secret Admirer

My mouth drops at the words "secret admirer"

It sounds so childish, so cliche but for some reason it makes my heart beat faster

Who sent these?

Who actually likes me enough to send them?

No guy I know has ever shown any interest in me

And the only guys I know are the ones here at work, the ATEEZ members and Yeosang

And aside from Yeosang, I don't really talk to my male coworker or the members

So who is it?

It's someone who knows I can't care for flowers

Someone who remembers that and decided to get me fake ones instead

It's sweet

I feel myself smile softly at the flowers noticing that they're my favorite

Japanese Cherry Blossoms

Whoever sent this knows my favorite flower and went out of their way to find enough fake ones to make up the bouquet

"Hello, Earth to Joanne? Who sent them?", Balam asks

"I don't know. It doesn't say"

"Oh my god it's a secret admirer?", Balam squeals, "That is so romantic"

I mean I guess so?

I don't know, I have no experience with this

"Yeah", I say smiling

It may be nothing serious but it feels good to be noticed even if just for a moment

"I gotta get back to work", I say, going to the back of the pharmacy to my work space

I put the flowers down, next to my computer and get ready to refill the bottle

Right before I begin, I glance at the flowers again and I can't stop the smile forming on my face

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

Opening the door to the cafe I go to everyday, I walk to the counter, scanning the menu to figure out what I feel like having for lunch today

I wait for the cashier to come so I can finally eat

It's taking a long time and I wonder what's going on

The cashier, Byeol, is always here, waiting for customers to come

So where is she?

I wait another five minutes, getting a bit annoyed

This is cutting into my lunch time

"Hi Joanne! Give me a minute please", Byeol calls, poking her head from the kitchen door

"Yeah ok", I grumble

I'm hungry and I don't want to get hangry or I can be very unpleasant

Just ask Yeosang

"I'm here", Byeol says, coming out with a tray of food and a drink

She places it in front of me, smiling, "Here you go"

"Uh...", I trail off, looking at the tray

It has all my favorites on it- Italian club sandwich, a blueberry lemonade and a original cheesecake slice

"What is this?", I ask, so confused

"Oh wait", she says reaching into her apron, pulling out an envelope, "Here. For you"

I raise my eyebrow, taking the envelope and opening it

There's a folded paper inside and I read it

"I know how much you love this cafe and I wanted to treat you to all your favorites. You deserve it. Enjoy"

Love,

Secret Admirer

My mouth drops, reading the note

Secret admirer again

Apparently this person knows a lot about me to get all my favorite things from this specific cafe

"Someone must really love you", Byeol says, smiling

"Yeah", I answer, doubtful this person loves me

Likes me maybe

Trying to be nice, more likely

"Uh did you see who ordered this?"

She shakes her head, "Someone called and explained what they wanted to do for you. They ordered your food for 1 pm and a delivery man came at noon, dropping off the money and that envelope"

That is so strange

Going through all this trouble for me?

And this person knows I take my lunch at 1pm

My coworkers know that I take my lunch at that time

But I doubt any of them know that I can't care for flowers

I literally have no idea who this is

"Are you alright?", Byeol asks, snapping me out of my thoughts

"Uh yes. I'm just surprised"

I thank Byeol, take the tray and go sit down to eat

I am hungry and these are my favorites so I should eat it

As I eat, I enjoy the food while wracking my brain for whoever this admirer can be

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

Parking my car, I get out and walk toward my apartment building carrying the flowers and chocolate basket

When I got back from lunch, there was a basket of my favorite chocolate on my work desk- a mixture of Reese's peanut butter cups and York peppermint patties

Along with another note

"Just because these make you smile when you eat them and I absolutely love your beautiful smile"

Love,

Secret Admirer

Needless to say, I smiled reading the note

And yeah I ate some already but there is so much chocolate that I'll be set for days

Taking the elevator to my floor, I walk towards my door, already seeing an envelope taped to my door

I hurry to the door, taking the envelope, then going inside my apartment

Putting the flowers and chocolate on my coffee table, I sit on my couch opening the new envelope

It feels heavier that the other ones

I pull out the note, then reach in and take out a necklace

I gasp, looking at the beautiful dragon pendant

The dragon is curled around a crescent moon and a dark blue gem in the center

It's amazing

Opening the paper, a smaller piece of paper is inside and I read it first

It's about the necklace describing that the metal is platinum and that the stone is a sapphire for September birthdays

It's my birthstone

I'm just in awe

I look at the note in my hand

"I saw this dungeons and dragons pendant and immediately thought of you. I just had to get it. And I'd like to ask you on a date tonight. Please meet me at your favorite restaurant Boccalino at 7:30. I promise I am not a stranger and you know me. I will be wearing black pants, a black button down shirt and a leather jacket. Please wear the necklace. I'm sure it will look stunning on you"

Love,

Secret Admirer

I'm completely stunned

Someone is actually asking me on a date

Someone actually likes me

I am weary of meeting this person but they assured me I know them

And it's a public place so I can just scream or leave if it's a creep

I'm definitely going, even if it's just to see who it is

The only problem is that Boccalino is a fancier restaurant

It is my favorite even though I've only been there a max of three times

It's more like a fancy favorite restaurant

I don't know if I have anything fancy

I'm going to have to dig deep in my closet to find something I can wear

Glancing at the clock, it's already 5:30

I have to shower then get ready

I need to start moving

Getting up, I take the necklace with me into my room to get ready

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

Parking the car, I get out and pull my dress down

I managed to find a long sleeved modest lace dress that my friend bought me and I never wore

I was lucky that it fit

The necklace goes really well with it too

There was no way that I was wearing the matching heels my friend bought in an attempt to sexy me up

Those things looked hazardous

I just put on my black flats I use to go on job interviews

It was as good as it would get

I left my hair down, parted at the side and it's driving me crazy

It's like a sheet down my back and the shorter pieces in the front keep falling in my face

But I can deal with it, seeing as I don't have any make up on and my glasses

I should of listened to Yeosang and learned how to do makeup and put in contacts

I'm kicking myself for ignoring him right now but I honestly never thought I'd ever be in this situation

Holding the small handbag, I start walking from the parking lot to the front of the restaurant

I'm excited to see who this person is and at the same time I'm terrified

I don't know how I'm going to speak to them without shutting down

I know I'm going to make a fool of myself but there's nothing I can do about that

As I get to the front, I see someone standing by the door, his back to me

In black pants, black button down and a leather jacket

I feel like I'm going to throw up as I walk closer

The closer I get, the more familiar the guy looks

He has longish black hair and the way he stands looks familiar

He turns around and I realize it's Yeosang

Oh shit, is he here waiting for the ATINY he has a date with?

What are the odds that he's taking her here at the same time I'm going to be here?

My chest hurts at the thought of him with that girl but I remind myself that I'm here with someone else too

The only person around is Yeosang

I guess I'm early or the guy is running late

"Hey Yeo", I call, walking closer to him

He looks to me, his beautiful smile on his face, "Hi Jo"

"What are you doing here?", I ask, "Waiting for the ATINY you're taking out?"

He raises his eyebrow, slowly shaking his head, "Uh no"

No?

But he said he had a date

"Oh. So why are you here?"

"Jo, I..uh..I'm here...for you"

I hear his words but they're not sinking in

"Wait...what?"

"I'm here for you. I...I'm the one who sent you all the stuff today"

"What?", I repeat, a million thoughts running in my head

It was him?

But why?

I know for a fact he doesn't feel that way for me

So why did he do all this?

Because he felt bad for me?

Because he knows I can't get a guy?

Oh my god

"I'm...here for you", he repeats and I just lose it

"Are you serious?", I shout, tears welling in my eyes

Is this some kind of funny joke to him?

He actually has the nerve to look at me in confusion

"Jo-"

"Why did you do this? To fuck with me? To tease me? To prank me? Did you lose a fucking bet or something?"

My god it hurts so much

I really thought that maybe someone actually liked me

Maybe one of the ATEEZ members

Or someone at work

Instead it's him playing a joke on me

"Jo, no this isn't a prank", he says

Yeah right

I don't want to hear any excuses

I just want to go home and cry

"Fuck you Yeosang"

Turning from him, I start walking away quickly

"Joanne wait", he says, his footsteps fast behind me

He moves in front of me, stopping me, "Wait. I can explain"

"No you can't"

I try to move around him but he moves with me staying in front of me

"Can you just listen?"

"No"

"Goddamn it, I fucking love you!", he exclaims

I stop, staring at him in disbelief

Is he seriously going with this?

That's unbelievable

"Yeah ok", I roll my eyes, getting angry

"I do. I love you. My god, you're so fucking oblivious. You don't pay attention to me at all or you'd see I'm stupidly in love with you", he yells

I stand there in shock, my brain trying hard to work out what he's saying

It's impossible

There's no way, he's lying, he's never...gave no sign...nothing

"I don't...you don't....", I stammer, my brain not connecting to my mouth

"Ahhh", he yells, his hand moving behind my head, pulling me to him as his lips crash against mine

Stars blast in my vision and I feel like the ground under my feet is tilting as his mouth moves against mine

And fuck, I actually feel the love he's pouring into the kiss

He not lying

He really loves me

I grab onto his shirt to steady myself, realizing that I don't know how to kiss

I try to follow what he's doing, moving my mouth against his

His arm moves around my body, pulling me against his, his other hand on the side of my neck, holding me softly

I feel his tongue lick my bottom lip and I instinctively open my mouth

His tongue slides in, touching mine and I let out the most embarrassing moan as tingles spread from the top of my head to my toes

It just feels so good

I never thought kissing could feel like this

But somehow I don't think it would feel like this with anyone but Yeosang

His tongue plays with mine and again I copy his movements, hoping that it doesn't suck for him

I don't know how long we kiss for but when he pulls away, he leans his forehead against mine

"Do you believe me now?", he asks softly

I'm completely speechless, my mind still preoccupied with his kiss

So I just nod

"I love you. I want to be with you. You're all I fucking wanted since we were in high school"

He just keeps on blowing my mind

"You...you never said anything"

"I couldn't. I was scared you wouldn't want me. Then I left to join BigHit, then KQ to train. Then we debuted and there was a dating ban for a year", he explains, "And I just didn't think you'd want me or you would of given me some sign that you did"

"C'mon Yeo, you know I'm completely stupid when it comes to this stuff", I tell him softly

He laughs softly, "Yeah but I didn't know you'd be this clueless"

I just smile

"Please jagi, tell me you feel something for me"

I do and I want to tell him I do

I just have to ask him something first

"Yeo, you...you said you had a date-"

"I lied jagi"

"Uh why?", I ask, confused

"Because I was trying to see if you feel anything for me or if you'd get jealous. I was scared to tell you my feelings Jo and when you had no reactions to what I said about the ATINY, telling me you hope things worked out for me with the fan, I figured you didn't see me like that. But I had to try. I couldn't give up on you without trying"

I'm at a loss

He's normally so confident, I would never think he would be trying to gauge my feelings for him

Then another thing occurs to me

"If you wanted me then why were you trying to give me advice on fashion? I know you like fashion but that's not me Yeo and I'm not changing the way I dress or do my hair or anything"

He smiles, softly touching my cheek

"I don't want you to change baby. I love the way you dress. I love your ponytails, your glasses, your sweatpants, sneakers, Tshirts. I don't want you to wear make up or contacts if you don't want to. I just said those things because you were saying that no one wanted you. I thought if I gave you some advice you could be more confident in yourself. But I love everything about you baby, including the way you dress. You're so fucking beautiful jagi, it's hard for me to tear my eyes away from you"

My mouth drops at his confession

He thinks....I'm beautiful?

He's beautiful, how can he think I am?

"I swear Jo, I don't know how you didn't catch me staring at you. I always had an excuse ready in case you caught me and called me out on it"

"I...I didn't notice because I was forcing myself not to stare at you", I confess

"Me?", he asks, hopefully

I nod, "Yeah you Yeo. I love you"

A huge smile forms on his face, "Yeah?"

I nod, "Yeah. I kinda fell in love with you around the same time you said you fell for me"

"Looks like we were both dumb"

"Yeah", I agree

"But...we're not dumb anymore?"

I shake my head, "No. I want you Yeosang. I always wanted you"

"We thank god because I was always yours. Always"

I smile, realizing that this beautiful man, this famous idol is finally mine

"I want to kiss you again", I say, my cheeks heating up

"You can kiss me anytime you want jagi", he assures me, "I'll never get tired of your kisses"

I know my face is even more red from his words

I never thought I'd hear things like this from Yeosang

"I..I don't know...what to do", I say softly, feeling inadequate

"Don't worry jagi. I'll teach you ok? I'll teach you everything"

I nod, relieved that he's not upset that I have next to no experience

He leans down, his lips against mine again, shivers running up my spine

Moving my mouth against his, I let his tongue in, his playing with mine

He takes my arms, moving them around his neck and I hold on while his arms move around my waist, holding me right against him

Slowly he pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine

"I love you"

"I love you", I tell him

"So you wanna go inside for our date?"

I nod, "Yeah. Definitely"

He takes my hand, pulling me with him

His hand feels so soft and honestly perfect around mine

"By the way jagi, you look fucking beautiful", he says, smiling at me, "And so fucking hot"

My mouth drops, "You're kidding"

He shakes his head, "I'm not. I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress. And that short skirt is driving me crazy"

Holy crap, my boyfriend thinks I'm hot

That is a word I never thought would ever be associated with me

"Yeah well that's fair since you drive me crazy all the time"

He snorts, "I've just been suffering in silence jagi. You drive me crazy all the time too"

I can't believe I'm having this conversation

And with Yeosang to boot

"I don't think this is an argument either of us is going to win"

"Yeah you're right", he agrees, "So let's just have a nice first date then?"

I smile, "Yeah baby"

He looks over at me, a big grin on his face, "I like that"

"What?", I ask

"You calling me baby"

I blush hard, not even realizing I called him that

"Can you keep doing it?", he asks

I nod, "Yeah"

He smiles, kissing my lips quickly, then opens the restaurant door, leading me inside

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

My arms lock around Yeosang's neck as his lips stay against mine, his tongue playing with mine

After our amazing date, we came back to my apartment and we haven't been able to stop kissing or touching each other

He carried me to my bed, laid me on it and has been kissing me ever since

I learned quickly and I think he likes the way I kiss him based on his constant moans

"Mmm want you jagi", he murmurs against my lips, his hands running down my body

I know what he means when he says that and I do want him too

So much

I'm just scared because I've never done anything but I'm not letting that stop me

"Want you too Yeo", I answer

He already told me we don't have to do anything tonight, that's he's fine with waiting but I'm not having it

He's mine and I want him

I feel him smile against my lips, moving his kisses to my neck, his hands bunching up my dress

Holy shit, that feels amazing

"Fuck I'm so fucking excited jagi", he says, his hands touching my skin under my dress, every nerve on fire from his touch

"What?", I get out, his touch feeling so fucking good

How can touching feel so good?

"I said I'm excited to be with you baby", he repeats

"Why?", I ask, so surprised

I haven't done anything

I have no skills, I don't know what to do

This is going to suck for him

"Because baby, I'm the first one to see you naked", he murmurs, pushing my dress up more, "I'm lucky jagi. I'm the first one to ever kiss you. The first one to touch you. I'm gonna be the first one to undress you, the first to touch and suck your nipples, the first to taste your pussy, the first one to be inside your pussy. I'm the first one who's gonna make you cum. In my mouth and on my cock"

Oh my god

He's so fucking hot

Everything he's saying is true and it sounds like so much fun

He leans down to my ear whispering, "I'm the first one to tell you I love you and I want to be the only one who ever says that to you. I want to be the only one you say that to"

"You are Yeo. You're the only one I ever loved"

He leans his forehead on mine, moaning softly, "Fuck jagi, I'm never going to get tired of hearing you say that"

"I'll always say it Yeo. I love you"

"Fuck, I love you", he says, then his lips are on mine, kissing me silly

His hands move down, slowly pulling my panties off

I have to admit, I'm so excited and I lift my ass up to help him

Her throws my panties behind him, then helps me sit up as he takes my dress off

Next to come off is my bra and I realize I'm completely naked in front of him

He slowly pushes me back and I lay down, his eyes raking over my body

I blush hard just as he says, "Oh my god jagi"

His hands roam all over my body, his fingers trailing all over my skin, making me shiver

"You're fucking gorgeous Jo", he whispers, blowing my mind, his eyes moving to mine, "My perfect jagi"

My mouth drops as I process his words

"Perfect?"

"Absolutely jagi", he whispers

I don't know what to say, my cheeks on fire so I just move my hands to his body, tugging up his shirt

He moves his arms from me, letting me take his shirt off

I'm hit with his gorgeous body, muscles fucking everywhere

His chest is defined, abs cut into his stomach, his arm muscles bulging and I'm so fucking turned on

My boyfriend is so fucking hot

I mean I knew he was, I saw the Deja Vu video but seeing all of him....it's turning my brain off

"You ok baby?", he asks

"Yes", I whisper, biting my lip, reaching out and touching him

His eyes close as I run my hands all over him, his skin so soft

"Mmm jagi", he murmurs, my hands sliding up to his chest, my fingers dancing along the muscles

I slowly move my hands down, reaching for his pants, I undo his belt, opening his jeans

My hands shake while I pull his pants and boxers down as far as I can

He moves off the bed, getting his clothes off

I lift my head, gaping when I see him completely naked

His thighs are muscular too and my eyes move to between his legs

Oh my fucking god

His dick is so huge

He's already hard, his thick length standing at attention, his tip wet with cum

"Yeo, oh my god", I murmur

He smiles softly, coming back on the bed

His opens my legs, moving between them as he looks down at me

"Am I good for you jagi?", he asks shyly

"I ...uh...what?", I stammer

"Am I ok for you? Am...uh... am I...uh is my body..... what you want?"

I'm completely floored at how shy and insecure he sounds

"Of course you are baby. You're perfect", I assure him, "You are what I want Yeo. You're perfect the way you are"

He smiles happily, leaning down, his lips against mine

I fall into his kiss as his hands move and wrap around my boobs, squeezing so gently

Moaning in his mouth, he kisses me hard then moves his lips from mine, pressing kiss after kiss to my neck

Shivering against his lips, he laughs so sexily, turning me on

He kisses my chest, dragging kisses down to my boob

I wait in anticipation, his kisses getting closer to my nipple

When he gets there, his tongue licks my nipple and I moan so loudly, pleasure like I never felt filling me

His mouth closes around my nipple, sucking softly, making me cry out, my pussy getting so soaked

I don't think I've ever been this wet before

Of course it's him that makes me feel like this and I'm glad for it

He switches nipples, his free hand softly trailing down my body, down to in between my legs

His fingers rub on my clit, pleasure hitting me hard, my body shaking, moans falling from my mouth

He rubs faster, pressing on my bump, my pussy completely drenched

"Yeosang. Oh god Yeosang"

His mouth sucks harder on my nipple as his fingers move from my clit further down

I'm scared it's going to hurt but I trust Yeosang

I know he won't hurt me and if it does hurt, he'll stop

His fingers move along my pussy, groaning into my nipple, "So fucking wet baby"

I feel my whole body flush in heat, from his words and from how he sounds like he likes it

His fingers stay at my entrance and I feel one starting to press inside

My legs tense and he lets go of my nipple, kissing my neck softly

"No baby, relax for me", he murmurs, "I promise it's gonna feel good baby but you have to relax ok?"

"Ok Yeo", I answer, trying indeed to relax

He presses kisses to my neck and chest over and over, melting me into the bed

His mouth reattaches to my nipple, sucking softly, his finger sinking inside me slowly

It doesn't hurt at all

In fact it feels good

"Mmm so tight", he murmurs, "Can't wait to feel this pussy around my cock"

Oh my god

He so very slowly moves his finger, pulling out, then sinking back in, wiggling around

Over and over, pleasure slowly building

After a few thrusts, he adds another finger, both of them buried deep inside

His mouth doesn't stop on my nipple, sucking as his fingers stay inside, pressing around like he's looking for something

What, I don't know

Suddenly his fingers press on a spot that has my pussy gushing more juice, the bliss slamming into my body

"Oh fuck", I moan, one of my hands burying in his black hair, the other gripping the sheets so hard

"There we go", he says, his voice even deeper than it usually is

I feel his fingers leave my cunt only to surge back in and hit that area that feels fucking unbelievable

"Yeosang!"

"Got your spot baby", he murmurs, moving his hand quicker, spreading his fingers open inside me

I can't fucking believe how good it feels

I've touched myself before, used toys too but that pleasure is nothing compared to what he's giving me

As he fingers me, his thumb moves to my clit and he starts rubbing

"Fuck, Yeosang!", I cry as stars blast in my eyes

Holy fuck, this pleasure is on another level

It's different when someone else is pleasuring you

And add to it it's the man I'm head over heels in love with, the pleasure is astounding

My legs shake as I get closer to coming

It's just so much and I can't handle it

"Yeosang! Oh fuck", I yell as my orgasm hits me so fucking hard

His fingers move faster, his mouth sucking my nipple faster, the bliss incredible

"Yeah baby, cum for me", he murmurs, "So pretty jagi. My baby is so beautiful"

"Oh god. Yeosang"

God, is this what I've been missing?

This is what it feels like to be with someone else?

Somehow, I doubt it would feel this good with anyone else though

When it's over, I suck in air, feeling like I'm part of the bed, just reveling in the post orgasm bliss

Yeosang moves off me and I wonder where he's going until I feel his hands spread my legs open wider

Pleasure suddenly slaps me in the face and I shout his name as I lift my head up

I freeze in shock at the sight of my boyfriend eating my cunt like he's starving

His tongue flies all over, licking in between my slit, moaning like he's the one getting oral

His eyes lift to mine and I'm completely turned on

He looks so good in between my legs

He holds eye contact as his tongue slides up my pussy only to slide back down

His tongue runs all over, my legs shaking again, in pleasure

I can't, he's so good with his tongue

Fucking hell

His tongue slips down, poking into my hole and making me gasp

He pushes his tongue further in, and I can't help but clench around him

"Yeosang", I moan, feeling his tongue slide out

"Mmmm jagi", he groans deeply, his tongue shoving back in

"Fuck fuck"

He moves his tongue fast, fucking into me again and again

And I can't believe this man, this beautiful, sexy idol is doing this to me

That he wants to do this to me

And that he seems like he's enjoying it

A lot

His tongue pulls out, then slides up my pussy, flicking my clit

"Oh fuck", I cry, more pleasure zapping through my system

He laughs so deeply, making me shiver as his tongue flicks my clit again and again

I can feel my orgasm building up with each move of his talented tongue

I can't stop myself from plunging my hand into his black hair, holding on as I moan like a huge slut

I watch as his mouth wraps around my clit and he sucks like he can't get enough

Pleasure blasts in my body, making me shake hard

My hips start moving on their own, fucking into his mouth, my juice all over his face

And he just keeps on sucking like he doesn't have a care in the world

"Yeosang..I...I'm..", I breath hard, right at the edge

His eyes meet mine as he slurps around my clit and I fucking lose it

I tumble head first into ecstasy, screaming his name over and over as I ride the waves of pleasure

His mouth doesn't stop, sucking me through it, keeping me in constant bliss

It's fucking incredible

As I come down from the orgasm, Yeosang moves his tongue down to my hole, licking rapidly, swallowing and making moaning noises

When he finishes he moves on top of me, gently pushing me down on the bed

"My girl tastes so fucking good", he murmurs, his lips pressing against my neck, shocking the shit out of me

"I...I do?"

"So good my love", he answers, "So sweet"

He peppers kisses all over my neck, his cock pressing against my leg

"Can I fuck you baby?", he asks

It's now or never

I push all the nervousness away and just focus on him

"Yeah Yeo. I want that. I want you"

"Anything for you jagi"

I feel him start to move in slowly, stretching me open inch by inch

And it feels fucking good

I was expecting pain, knowing that it normally happens the first time

But I don't feel any of that

It just feels good

"Oh fuck", I moan, immediately tightening around his cock as he pushes in more and more

And somehow I get so much more wet

"Oh god", he groans against my skin, "Oh fuck, so tight baby. Fuck. Feels so fucking good. You feel so good jagi"

I swear I haven't heard Yeosang sound like this before

Like he's losing control

I can't answer as I feel him bury in my pussy

He stops moving, whispering, "I'm all in"

And fuck, I can't stop my pussy from throbbing hard around him

His cock is so massive, the feeling of being full so fucking satisfying

"God, fuck, you're pussy is so good. Fuck pulsing so much already. Feel like I'm gonna cum right now"

"Is...is that good?", I whisper

"Mmm hmm. Means you feel amazing jagi", he answers, "I knew you would"

He lifts his head from my neck, his eyes on mine, smiling softly

"You're perfect baby"

I blush, never thinking that any guy in this world would think I'm perfect

Especially Yeosang

But he does and it feels good

"You're perfect Yeosang. I love you"

"I love you Jo. So much"

He presses a soft kiss to my lips and I fall into him

"I'm gonna move, ok jagi?", he asks between kisses

I nod, wrapping my arms around his body, gently laying my hands on his back

His arm moves around my waist, holding me against him, his tongue playing with mine as he slowly moves his hips back

I moan in his mouth at how good his cock drags through my pussy, sending shivers all over me

He slowly buries back inside, forcing me open, my pussy gripping his length tightly

He goes all the way in, his head rubbing against that spot his fingers found before, pleasure filling me

He moves slowly, in and out, his hands gripping my body hard, his lips moving from mine to my neck

"Baby fuck. So good jagi", he whines, "So fucking wet for me"

I am

I don't ever think I've been this wet before

Every time he moves inside, I feel my pussy soak him

He breathes rapidly, his body tense and barely in control

"Can I go faster? Please baby. Wanna go faster", he begs, "Let me fuck you so good jagi. I promise I'll make you feel good. Make you want my cock all the time"

Holy shit

I never thought Yeosang would ever speak like this but fuck it's such a turn on

"Please baby. It'll feel so good jagi. I'll make it so good"

"Yes baby", I answer, wanting him to feel good as well

This isn't just about me

It's about us

He immediately moves, sitting up, both hands gripping my hips hard

He thrusts faster, slamming into me, sending me into so much bliss

Stroke after stroke he goes in harder, so deep in my pussy

I moan loudly, twisting the sheets in my hands, the pleasure intense

"So pretty baby", he whispers, "Fucking hell, your pussy looks so good on my dick"

My eyes move to him and I'm blown away at how hot my boyfriend is

His upper arm muscles are flexing, veins in his lower arms popping, his abs so tight as he thrusts, drops of sweat all over him

His hair is soaked, pleasure on his face as he bites his lip, his eyes watching his cock fuck me

He's so fucking stunning, it's stupid

"Pretty pussy", he murmurs, "Pretty hole stretching so wide. Creaming my cock so good, it's everywhere. Such a pretty mess"

"Is...is that g..good?", I get out

He nods, his eyes not moving, "I love it. Wanna see your pussy cum"

"Fuck Yeo"

His eyes finally move, slowly raising up my body until he looks at my face

He hovers over me, one hand moving next to my head on the bed, the other hiking my legs up his body more

"I want to see you cum baby", he says, "Wanna see how you lose it on my cock"

"Yeo, fuck", I whimper, his words turning me on more

"Want to feel you clench on me, drown my cock in your cream, feel your body shake, hear you scream my name"

I can't answer, just groan as the pleasure mounts, his perfect cock hitting my spot while his pelvis rubs against my clit with each stroke

He leans down, his mouth next to my ear, "Do you hear how wet you are for me?"

What?

"Do you hear how loud your pussy is when you take my cock inside you?", he asks, "Listen baby"

Silence falls for a second before I hear it

The wet squelching of his cock pounding my pussy along with his skin hitting mine

Oh my god, it's so fucking erotic

"Sounds so pretty", he murmurs, "Could listen to it on repeat"

"Yeosang", I cry, my back arching as I'm shoved closer and closer to my orgasm

"Yes baby", he urges, "Let me watch you. Fall apart for me"

"Baby", I gasp, my brain turning off from the incredible bliss, my pussy throbbing crazily around his shaft

"Yeah baby. Good girl. Scream my name, baby girl. Fall apart on my cock jagi"

His cock slams inside and I lose it

"Yeosang! Fuck! Yeosang!", I scream, ecstasy slamming into my body, taking over and stars explode in my vision

"Good girl. Fuck, it feels so fucking good", he praises, his cock fucking into me as I cum, keeping me in pleasure, nothing in my head except him

"Yeosang", I whimper, tears falling from the corners of my eyes from how good it feels

"Baby", he groans, "I'm gonna cum"

I just moan, tightening my legs around him

Fuck, I don't want him to leave my cunt

I want him to stay

"Ccc..... can I cum in your pussy? Please", he pleads

"Yes Yeo. Please baby. Wanna be full of your cum"

God, do I crave his cum inside me

Always wanted that with him

"Let me see you cum Yeo"

"Fuck!", he shouts, burying his cock inside me as he orgasms, "Joanne! Fuck!"

My mouth drops as I watch him, so fucking beautiful

His cock throbs hard inside me, warm sticky cum gushing into my cunt

I can't help my pussy spasming around him, like I'm sucking on his dick

"Yes baby, oh my fucking god", he cries, "Milking my cock so fucking good baby. Take it all jagi"

I do, enjoying the feeling of being filled

He breathes hard as his forehead leans against mine, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss

After, he pulls out, laying next to me, getting the blanket over us

"Come here jagi", he murmurs, pulling me to him

I go absolutely willingly, laying on the pillow with him, our bodies turned to each other, his arm tightly around me

His fingers softly run in my hair, his eyes on me, a soft smile on his face

"I love you", he says

I can't hold the smile back, so unbelievably happy

"I love you", I tell him

He leans forward, giving me a sweet gentle kiss that completely melts me

He's my everything

"Tired jagi?", he asks, after our kiss

I nod, "You?"

"Yeah baby"

Ok then

Sleepy time

I quickly run out the bed, shutting the light then jumping back in, immediately in his arms

Cuddling into him, he chuckles, his arms around me, body pressed against mine

"Fuck jagi", he says softly, "You have no idea how long I wanted to have you in my arms. Every time we watched a movie, a TV show, every time we were sitting next to each other, I just wanted to pull you in my arms and hold you. Never let you go"

"You don't Yeo. You never have to let me go ever again", I assure him, "I wanted to be in your arms for so long too Yeo. Just climb in your lap, both of us holding each other and staying there"

"You can from now on baby", he agrees, "I'll always hold you baby. Always"

I smile, "I love you so much Yeosang"

"I love you so much Jo. Always baby"

"Forever", I whisper

We meet in a gentle kiss, so much love between us

I normally hate Valentine's day but I'm so happy he made this one memorable

[mrghostrat]

I remember you posting a blurred gif of the outline of atws, so if you don't mind me asking, how do you do that? Like, get the outline onto paper and not just scenes in your head. That's something I've always struggled with, because it's hard to write without an outline, but hard to do the outline when I don't have a first draft? I'm not sure how to explain it so I hope this makes any sense at all lmao

ahh so fair! some people just don't operate that way and you gotta do what's best for your brain. no point exhausting all your energy trying to squeeze into a "standard writing process" that'll make writing even more difficult for yourself.

under the cut, i'm going to explain my writing process every step of the way, using scenes of ATWS. i hope it helps in some way? i don't think it's anything special, but this is just how i write to appease my adhd.

first, this might help: i once used storyplanner.com when i didn't know how to even start a story and i loved it. it's a great tool that can hold your hand every step of the way, or just prompt you to think on your own. there's over 20 planners that ask different questions like "what's your character's major flaw?" "what's the inciting incident?" "what outside elements hinder the character?" etc that will present you with a complete story structure when you're done with it.

ok, now, how i write:

as for the post in reference, that's the 2nd stage of my writing process. i get carried away with tangents and hone in on details, so i plan in dot points to try and force myself to keep it simple and stay zoomed out.

i just write what happens in chronological order, and if i have an idea for a later scene (or something that i just want to happen, but don't know when/where/how), i note that in a separate document that i can refer to while i plan. this also allows me to gloss over vague sections to keep my writing flow going.

stage 1:

i've started using Notion's "toggle list" feature to minimise the less important parts of a scene and keep myself focused on the overarching plot during this stage. this is what the first point looks like:

i go beat by beat, essentially amounting to an elevator pitch for each stage of my story. "crowley and aziraphale are streamer roommates" + "people start to notice they each live with someone and the speculation starts" + "crowley and aziraphale interact on twitch" + "they attend the edinburgh meetup" etc.

i finish a story before i move on from this stage. i won't start writing something in earnest until i know how it ends.

stage 2:

this is what you saw in my gif, and why that page was so long. that's every scene i'm going to write in the story.

sometimes i jump straight from stage 1 to writing, but ATWS required a lot more figuring out before i started any kind of prose. here i'm basically noting down the details of what each scene is, the brunt of what's happening. this is when i have to figure out those "vague sections" i glossed over earlier.

it's still just intended to be a rough outline so i know where the characters are and what's moving their relationship along. most of these dot points are short because i've already thought about them a thousand times, and may have more details noted down in a different document.

meanwhile some of them i'm planning out the scene as i'm dotting it, making not of dialogue that i want to include.

stage 3: my bracket method

i only use this stage when i'm struggling to write and need to baby step into it. this is my "bracket method" in which i write the scene without, like... caring? some people may consider this "double handling" which may drive you mad, but it's the most helpful thing i've ever done for my process.

i switch tenses, i write how i chat (no capitals etc) and just word vomit the scene without focusing on prose. ATWS came quite easily at first, and i didn't need to use stage 3 until i got to chapter 4 and hadn't written in a few days.

stage 4:

this is writing the actual prose, but i wanted to include it so you can see the differences, to help better understand my notes/planning/outlining stages:

and this is what a scene looks like with stage three bridging the gap:

[soysauceharry]

after the end - a blurb

got the writing bug again :) enjoy! (gif credit to @londonharry)

There is something to be said about the quiet that ensues after being surrounded by noise. It's different. It's an absence of sound that feels heavy, imbued with some kind of meaning that's hard to make sense of. But it's important.

Harry feels this as he sits in his dressing room, the last of the roaring crowd from Lisbon trickles out of the stadium. Leaning down to untie his shoes, he grins to himself when he catches a whiff of the beer still lingering on his chest. He tosses his shoes aside. His sweats are hanging on the clothing rack, waiting to be worn after his obligatory ice bath. But before getting up, before moving to do anything at all, Harry sits. He leans back. He closes his eyes, and he breathes.

You're usually waiting for him in his dressing room if you come to the shows, but usually it's the hotel or the car if you're traveling overnight to the next destination. Tonight, you linger in the halls backstage, trying to hang on to as much of the chaotic, contagious energy that permeated the building. Crew members stop you occasionally to say hello. One of the security guards gives you a wink as you reach Harry's door, and you smile warmly before pushing your way in.

Harry doesn't move when you shut the door behind you. "Beer fountain, hm?" you say quietly.

"Mmhmm." He cracks one eye open. "Something like that."

"Whose was it?"

"Dunno. Lloyd's, maybe." His arm extends along the back of the couch as you approach. "Thought it was funny."

He's regarding you through his lashes, peering through squinted eyes. The fatigue is apparent, but you know there's adrenaline shining in the background. His voice is tired, body probably starting to feel the beginnings of soreness from dancing around stage for hours. Still in his stage clothes, he sits like he hasn't just performed to tens of thousands of devoted attendees. Like he hasn't just shined so bright that space dwellers would be blinded.

"You're a menace, you know," you chide, curling up next to him with your legs tucked under you. As quickly as you lean in, you lean back right away. "Oh, god." Your nose wrinkles. "You smell ripe."

"I've only just come off stage."

"Yes, but--" you make a vague gesture toward his chest. "Post-show Harry smell is my favorite. Not when it's mixed with beer."

It's enough to make him laugh quietly as he pulls you in, but he doesn't say anything else. You let yourself rest against him, arm going around his shoulders to toy with the fabric of his vest. His hand rests casually across your legs. A less than graceful bump of his forehead against yours communicates his silent request, and you smile into the soft kiss he gives you. He tastes like the last dredges of adrenaline at the bottom of a coffee cup.

A deep sigh against your lips, then he pulls away. "C'mon, then."

"What?"

"Ice bath with me."

You scrunch your nose, digging your nails into his shoulder absently. "Nice joke."

"M'serious. You've never done one."

He is serious. No hint of sarcasm stains his words as he gazes at you prettily, the post-show haze evidently kicking in. "I kind of planned to keep it that way," you say lightly.

But if there's one thing about Harry--his determination is unwavering. He squeezes your thigh once, twice. Again, taking his time to release it. "Let's do it," he whispers like it's some huge secret. "Just five minutes. You can do it."

It's not that you can't. But your own post-show routine involves letting Harry release the last of his energy on you back in your hotel room. A treat that likely won't happen tonight, given Harry's sleep-heavy lids already half-closed as he grins. He doesn't let you reply before he's pulling you off the couch and toward the bathroom.

It's there already, set up and standing proud like a throne waiting for its king. A quick dunk is usually all Harry needs to shock his system, to soothe his body after the effort he goes through while performing. Scientifically sound, but horribly masochistic. To you, at least.

"No part of this is particularly appealing." You contradict your words as you start undressing. Harry's already got his vest off, standing eerily still in just his sequined pants as he watches you strip.

"But you love me, so you'll do it."

"I guess I do." You give him a sardonic smile. "Wonder why I thought that was a good idea."

He rewards you with a pinch to your hip. Soon enough, you're at one end of the tub and he's at the other, both clad in just your underwear. The cold air from the ice wafts toward you, pebbling your skin. It's going to be awful. Harry braces his hands on the edge of the tub; you do the same.

"Three... two--c'mon, babe." He's laughing through his words as your face gets more and more unpleasant while he counts down. "Two... two... one!"

A splash. Horrible, horrible cold.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck me."

You're panting shallowly, clearly becoming unregulated as your body adjusts. Or, attempts to; this all but confirms Harry is a freak of nature. He's panting too, but through practiced technique--lips pursed, he makes little gasping noises through a smirk that warms you slightly. You find yourself mimicking him automatically, crossing your arms against your body like he has.

"This is stupid, H."

"You're doing so good," he laughs, ignoring your obvious discomfort. "Just a little bit longer."

You're laughing too, and it's partially because this is ridiculous, the two of your squished together in this ice bath in his dressing room in Portugal.

You try not to move to prevent little crashes of cold penetrating through the layer of pseudo-warmth your body has created. After a few moments, your breathing normalizes slightly, the tension loosening from your shoulders. "When is this supposed to feel good?" you ask.

He contemplates the question. "After we get out."

"Ah. Naturally."

"Should we start doing this at home?"

"Mmm. I think we keep this as a tour staple."

He huffs a laugh, shifting to extend one leg out in the tub. His calf brushes your ankle, and you wiggle your toes in response. "That means only one more, then. One more show, one more bath."

That's right. Just Italy left, then a little vacation for the two of you. This tour, this whirlwind of a few years, feels like it's going to culminate in something special. Tonight was just a taster--you both knew that. Italy would be a different beast entirely.

"Maybe I'll join you for that one, too."

Harry pushes his foot against your leg, a secret smile shared between the two of you. A promise.

[augustjustice]

Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

I've been a disaster for the last month and a half and kept forgetting to post my wiggly Wednesday thoughts, but I am FINALLY getting around to it today!

Thank so much for the tag this week @tinytalkingtina and all the lovely folks who have tagged me before!!🖤💛Consider this a tag back to share those wonderful brainworms (if you'd like to):

@ataliagold @penny00dreadful @soaringornithopter @steddie-island

Because of a comment @theohohmoment made on a gif set of Eddie Kaspbrak saying it gave huge Steve de-aged by Upside Down nonsense vibes (which, I completely see the vision), the idea of Steve having to deal with being de-aged has had me in a chokehold for a couple of days now.

My brain defaulted to Steve finding Dustin first--and though he's curious at heart and more than accustomed to the weirdness of the world at this point, it still takes some effort for Steve to convince him that it's actually him. Secret handshakes and hair care secrets have to be divulged before Dustin is gasping, "Steve?!" in disbelief while Steve rolls his eyes, one hand on his hip as he deadpans, "Yeah, dude, it's really me."

"But you're...you're..."

"A pipsqueak? Kinda already had that part figured out, Henderson, thanks for that."

Dustin hums, thoughtfully, before his face breaks into a wide grin. "Technically speaking, does this make you my little brother now?"

"Not mentally!"

Dustin rallies the troops (the party) and then takes Steve to Robin and Eddie for help--maybe they were already on the lookout for him, if he hadn't shown up to pick Robin up or meet Eddie for their customary afternoon hangout session of smoking a joint and relaxing. After the initial confusion of assuming Steve must be a friend the kids have taken into their fold, it actually doesn't take nearly as much convincing as it did with Dustin to get the two to recognize him, since, well...

Robin and Eddie--they're Steve's peers, give-or-take a grade on either side. They remember Steve at this age, but with the lens of having been kids themselves. And, sure, the high school hierarchy hadn't yet been established, but Steve was still a sporty kid, a rich kid, still popular by 13 year old standards. So they know who they're staring at, once Dustin gives the whole spiel rapid fire. Realizing that Steve is now all awkward, gangly limbs and chipmunk cheeks, thought--that's a real shock, and a delightful one at that.

"Guess I can't call you big boy, anymore," Eddie comments wryly, earning him Steve's most fearsome scowl.

Even after the initial surprise of things passes, the pair of them can't stop cooing at him, pinching his face and ruffling his hair, prompting Steve to pout and grumble and tell them to fuck off about a thousand times over.

It's not much better with the kids. They aren't teasing and fussing over Steve the same way, sure, since age-wise he's landed himself right smack dab in the middle between them and Erica. But they barely listened to him before, the little hellions, and though Steve still defaults to playing babysitter, pretty much any and all authority he had has been totally lost.

By the third or fourth time they've pulled the we're older card to overrule him, Steve's had enough.

"You don't pull this shit with Erica! And she's way younger than you!"

Dustin scoffs. "Uh, yeah, that's cuz Erica could kick all our asses."

Mike and even Lucas simply nod sagely in agreement while Erica looks triumphant in the background. Even Steve can't argue that particular point, although he does huff back, "Oh, what, so you're saying I can't?"

Dustin ruffles his hair--God, but Steve really does not appreciate being on the other side of that one--and simply says, "Steve, little buddy...even before there's no way you could have."

It takes Eddie himself to break up the (mostly playful) wrestling match that ensues immediately afterwards.

It's not all bad, though. Even though at 19 Steve lets himself be a bit of a goofball, he's still used to being the "one in charge" when the party is around, at times the literal grown up in an emergency and worrying over making sure everyone is okay. That instinct is still there, of course, but...lessened when the entire situation opens up possibilities of just being a kid, even for a little while. Eddie and Robin both are only all too happy to encourage and indulge that, knowing that the general absence of Steve's parents forced him to grow up a bit too fast, and the last several years of monster hunting haven't exactly helped with things.

It's Eddie often egging Steve on to take the final step--try to win enough tickets at the arcade to claim the largest stuffed animal hanging on the wall, betting Steve he can't swing himself over the top of the swingset at the park--with a teasing, "Come on, Harrington, you know you want to."

And the thing is, Steve does, and for the first time in a long while he feels free enough that he can.

"You know, it's probably a good thing this happened now, and not, like...senior year," Steve muses, peering at Eddie where he's settled in the other swing, their shoes dragging gently through the smooth pebbles under their feet.

Eddie frowns, trying to follow his logic. "Gonna need you to walk me through that one, Harrington."

"Well, these days, I've got you and Rob."

"What, to help you figure things out?" Eddie isn't sure how much of a boon he really is for that part--Robin, sure, braniac that she was. The odds probably would have been in Steve's favor even before, though, given what mini-geniuses Dustin and the rest of the party turned out to be, especially when it came to Upside Down shenanigans.

"So I'd have a reason to even want to figure things out," Steve murmurs quietly.

Eddie's head whips to stare at him, blinking owlishly, expression a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Stevie, I don't--what do you--?"

He shrugs one shoulder, smile sheepish, the self-deprecating shine of his eyes jarring in a face still soft with baby fat.

"I mean..." Steve starts to count off on his fingers, "I'd just barely managed to survive my second round with all this bullshit. Nancy and I broke up. School was shit. Tommy and Carol--not like I could talk to them, or would even want to, after everything that happened. And Hargrove totally had it out for my ass. The only thing I really had going for me at the time was, you know. Looking after those little hellions."

"Sure, not being able to drive, that shit sucks, but...I'm just saying, back then, staying thirteen would have looked a lot more tempting. Plus, it'd be kinda nice to just--I don't know. Get a chance at a do-over." Pressing his face the chain of the swingset, his big, hazel eyes peeking out around it, Steve adds in an undertone, "Maybe not be such a jackass the second time around."

Eddie feels a pang in his chest. He can't resist the urge to walk his swing over so he can lay a hand on Steve's shoulder and squeeze--less forceful, more careful than he usually is. "We've all got shit we'd change, if we got another shot. Christ, I sure as hell would--you're talking to a third year senior here, after all. But, I think you're being way too fucking hard on yourself, man. You did just fine the first go-around, no retcon necessary."

Steve smiles, a soft, hesitant thing. "...Thanks, Eds."

"Anytime, Stevie."

And then, of course, from there Robin and the kids use their big brain power to break whatever curse Steve's been placed under, and Eddie helps him learn to still embrace all his silly, childish indulgences even now that he's back to being one of the 'big kids.'

[yesbutmakeitgay]

No One Breaks My Heart Like You

GIF by dailyflicks

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 7.5 | (Part 7)

Angst, Injuries, Divorce.

A/N: Best of luck to all of us...

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

Word count: 6.7k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

It’s been weeks since your disastrous break up with Carol, and she has spent every moment of that time trying to reach you unsuccessfully. She can’t track your devices, and you won’t answer any of her calls on your phone or at work.

In a deep moment of defeat, she decides to contact Fury, "Are you missing any agents?" she asks him suspiciously.

Fury doesn’t show any emotion, "Are you asking me if I've misplaced a whole person lately?"

Carol is unsure how to phrase her question without admitting to breaking the rules, "Have you?"

"There is an agent who hasn't come in for a while, is that what you're referring to?"

"Perhaps," The Captain gestures with her arms, "she's about this tall, great at her job, gorgeous."

"Carol, did you lose your wife?" he deadpans.

"My—what?" She tries to play it cool as nerves take over her entire body.

"Oh, come on, I’m not a fool, and you're not that sneaky."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Fury still seems completely unbothered, "She’s always with you when she's off work, you take your vacation at the exact same time, and there's a picture of her in your house."

"It's not a picture of her, it's a picture of us," Carol mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

"Whatever, I already know."

"So, you're not gonna tell me off?"

"She doesn't work for you, it's okay."

Carol shoots him an angry look, "Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"I figured I'd let you keep it up for as long as possible."

"You could have saved me a divorce!" That certainly catches Fury’s attention.

"Wait, what?"

She shows him two wedding bands, "I have both of these, I’m only supposed to have one!"

"That bad? What did you do?"

"Why do you assume it was my fault?"

"You're the one holding the rings."

Carol puts the bands on the table and responds in an aggressive tone, "She said I don't have enough time for her, which, did she not know she was marrying the single Avenger in charge of protecting the entire universe?"

He squints his eye, "What did she say exactly?"

"Something about my availability to everyone else."

"Did she give you a whole explanation and that's all you got from it?"

Carol remains silent, trying to remember your last conversation, "That's not the point, help me!"

"What do you want me to do?" he responds bluntly.

"I don’t know, page her? Say it's an emergency."

Fury sighs and looks at her with sympathy, "For you, I will try, but you should know that once she's off the grid, she's impossible to track down."

"That's gotta be an exaggeration."

"Like you just said, she's great at her job," he pauses, "my best spy doing desk work, that must have been a tough choice for her, I wonder why she did that," his tone is taunting, making Carol’s features turn to guilt, "I would hope that whoever pushed her to make that decision made up for it by spending lots of quality time with her," he suggests not so subtly.

"That's bullshit, if I had known we didn't need to hide from you—" Carol is interrupted by an alarm going off in Fury’s office.

"Hold that thought, I have to go. I will page her, but I'll stop at five attempts, if you don't hear from me, that's because I didn't hear from her."

He hangs up, and Carol is left alone once again.

A few days later, Carol arrives unannounced to New Asgard, she confidently makes her way to The King’s office and demands, "Take a walk with me."

Valkyrie’s eyes reluctantly travel away from her work to look at Carol, "You think you can just show up and ask for whatever you want? I am a King, I have responsibilities." It is clear in Valkyrie’s voice that she is still not on the best terms with her.

Carol completely disregards Val’s displeasure in favor of getting what she wants, "Like what?" she challenges.

Valkyrie looks around trying to produce a response and coming up empty, "…A walk then."

They take a stroll around the palace, mostly in silence, Val knows Carol just wanted an excuse to look for you in every corner of her Kingdom. After rounding the entire building, they return to The King's office.

"You're missing a ship," Carol points out as they enter.

"I know exactly where all my belongings are, do you?"

"She doesn't belong to me," The Captain murmurs.

Valkyrie swiftly sits on her chair and crosses her legs, "But you learned that the hard way."

"Can you just tell me where she is?"

"Why? So you can piss her off again?" Val bites.

"You have no idea what happened." Carol’s eyes bore into Valkyrie’s, but The King isn’t fazed by the action.

"I have no idea where she is," Valkyrie asserts smugly, "as your friend, let me just tell you, sometimes you can be really stupid. I say it with love," The Captain huffs at the hypocrisy, "and she's not here, at least not anymore."

Carol feels her heartbeat race, "But she was?"

"She stayed for a few days after I picked her up, didn't tell me where she went." The king's assistant knocks on the open door to announce their presence, Valkyrie nods to them and directs herself to Carol, "You should go."

Carol leaves the palace, but decides to stay in New Asgard for a bit, having nowhere else to go.

After a few hours of mindlessly roaming the town, Carol gets a call, "Fury, did you find her?" she answers hurriedly.

"There's been a strange object hovering Earth, can you check it out, please?"

"On it," she accepts, thinking it’ll be a good distraction. She flies to the coordinates and finds a spaceship.

Captain Marvel enters the familiar ship carefully, she points her lit up fist in a general forward direction as she scans every inch of the vessel with her eyes.

She feels someone jump down and land behind her, "What took you so long?" she immediately turns around startled, her mouth slightly agape with surprise, "Did anyone see you come in?" you mock, making her features flatten.

"Very funny," she deadpans, "how long have you been here?"

"Since I left New Asgard."

Her brows furl, "You’ve been here for four weeks?" you simply shrug in response, looking anywhere but at her, "Does Val know you have her ship?"

"Obviously, I wasn't about to steal from The King."

"How come nobody knows where you are?"

"I’m a trained spy, remember? And a damn good one," She walks in, putting her fist and guard down as she relaxes into her surroundings. "Fury called you." It's not a question.   "He thought you were a threat."

"I had to unveil the ship, I was getting bored up here."

"How was I supposed to know you were hiding somewhere outside the Earth's atmosphere?"

You eye her daringly, "You don't recognize the coordinates?" she stares at you in confusion, "Look down, Captain."

She peeks out a window and realizes what you mean, "It’s our home," she barely whispers.

You nod, "When was the last time you went home?"

Your words strike a nerve within her, "Don’t try to guilt trip me, what I do is important," she says between gritted teeth.

You didn't even mean it like that, but her aggressiveness has always been contagious, "Shut the fuck up, Danvers!"

"Hey!" she warns, "I get that you're angry, I get that I hurt you, but you cannot speak to me like that." She takes an offensive stance.

You cross your arms and give her a challenging look, "Why not?"

"Because we have a relationship based on respect."

Her response makes you loudly scoff in disbelief, "Respect? Since when? Since you visit your convenience husband more than you visit me? Since you spend 99% of your time buried in your work somewhere in the middle of space? Since you don't even have the decency to tell me you're coming to Earth to see some coworker's family?"

"They are my friends!" she objects.

"And I am your wife," you retaliate.

Carol drops the power trip, "You are?" she hesitates.   You feel all your confidence disappear, "I hardly think what I did counts as a real divorce."

"But, you want one?" Her voice only grows smaller.

"I don't know, it's not like I wanted to leave you."

She can’t believe she used this reunion to start a fight with you again, "I’m sorry, I don't know what's been happening to me." She gently hugs herself.

"You bit off more than you could chew." You follow her example and compose yourself, your gaze fixated on a wall.

"I promise to be better, what if we don't have to sneak around anymore, what if we could just be together in public? Would that make a difference?"

You respond by giving her a silent look, pleading with her to not toy with your heart anymore.

She approaches you and tries to hold your hand, "Angel."

"What are you doing?" You immediately back away from her touch.

She stops her movements, "I thought that's where this was going."

"It certainly is not."

She hides her face in her palms in shame, "I’m sorry, I’m just gonna go, it's fine, we're fine—"

"We're not fine," you interrupt.

"Right, whatever, bye." She exits with no destination in mind and simply remains floating in space at the mercy of the stars.

Carol has never felt like such a failure before, not when she harshly yelled at Kamala prior to being properly introduced, nor when she couldn't reach Monica, resulting in her being stuck in another universe. Even when she fails, she always knows exactly what she needs to do to fix everything, except for this, except for you.

You decide to turn your brain off and get some sleep, you think you might have to return Valkyrie's ship after this fiasco, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

A while later, Carol’s comms ring, and she picks up out of habit, still zoned out.

"Carol—" a small, quivering voice calls out through the device, followed by heavy pants, it sounds completely terrified.

Carol's eyes shoot open, "Kamala?"

A loud knock on the door wakes you, "Please, open up!"

"Carol?" You murmur under your breath as you get up. Her knocks only get louder and more desperate as you make your way to let her in, "It's four in the morning," you croak, rubbing your eyes.

She quickly enters, "If you choose to live in space you don't get to work in a time zone." It is only once you close the door that you realize she is carrying an unconscious body.

"Tell me you sang her to sleep," you hope, already dreading the scene that’s about to unfold, Carol only stares at you impatiently.   "There's a medical room in the back." You guide her to the room, and she lays Kamala on the bed. You immediately take charge of the situation.

You were always the one patching Carol up after rough missions, and she felt some guilt every time she was unable to return the favor, "What the hell happened to her?" you ask.

"I don't know." Her tone is somewhat apologetic.

You get to work on the girl to the best of your ability. Her injuries, although nonlethal, are enough to give you goosebumps, they seem to have been caused by a weapon, but not any human weapon that you know of. You doubt Ms Marvel was just hanging out in the streets past midnight when an emergency alien attack took place, which leaves you with a single theory, this was a planned mission that went horribly wrong.

"I think she should wake up on her own, I just have to clean her up," you tell Carol, gesturing towards the numerous bruises and cuts on Kamala's body. She chooses to wait outside to not obstruct your work with her pacing.

"Why didn't you go to the Avengers?" you question Carol once you come out of the room, wiping some blood off your hands with a rag.

She halts her movement, but doesn’t make eye contact, "It seemed easier—faster to just keep going up," she couldn't think of anyone else who could help her in the moment, "her mother is going to kill me."

"No more dinner with the Khans for you," you fake a pout, when you see she's genuinely distressed, you clear your throat and straighten your tone, "is this your fault?"

She shakes her head, "It was already too late when I arrived."

"If they didn't call you, then it's not on you," you reassure her. It is only now that you actually take a good look at Carol, her eyes are red, her skin pale, and her back is hunching, "Have you slept? Or eaten? Or sat down in the past month?" There is genuine worry in your words.

She silently stares at you for a moment and mutters, "What does it matter."

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I’m invulnerable." She tries to stand up tall with the little energy she has.

"Which means you can't die, not that you can go on living like…that."

"I’m doing fine," she argues, but you know better than to believe her.

"You're on the verge of tears, this close to collapsing," you gesture with your fingers, "but you are much too stubborn to do anything about it." Your voice remains velvety soft, you can read her like an open book, and she doesn't like that.

"You were always so good at reminding me to take care of my human side."

"You're all human, down to the fuck ups," the small smile that formed on her face flattens, "sit down," Carol looks toward the medical room tentatively, "she's gonna take her time, sit down," you repeat gently.

She obliges, "Are we gonna pretend you didn't just tell me off earlier?"

"We don't have to, but you can't leave now, so there's no point in being hostile." She nods gratefully.

You offer her a cup of tea and a snack, and invite her to take a warm shower, "If you wanna go through the closet, Val has a good selection of sweaters."

You didn’t even realize you fell asleep again, until a beeping sound wakes you up. You open your eyes to see it's Carol's comms, which prompts you to search for her from your spot on the couch. As you focus further, you hear her voice coming from the med room talking with Kamala, and a subtle smile tugs at your lips.

You're about to ignore the sound and go back to sleep, when a thought occurs to you, nobody calls Captain Marvel just to chat, your sense of duty insists you pick up, "Hello?"

The Avengers director recognizes your voice immediately, "Where’s Danvers?"

"Fury?" You panic, he can't know Carol and you are together.

"Is she with you?" he presses, making your palms sweat.

"I, uh, um—"

"I know about you two, you can calm down."

His words make you freeze in place, "You do?"

"Yes, she's not your boss, it's fine." He glosses over it like it’s nothing as he doesn’t have time for this right now. You find such information difficult to process, but you try to leave the implications for later.

"Okay, why are you calling?"

"Do you know where Kamala is?"

You had momentarily forgotten about your impromptu visitor, "Yes."

"Where?" he demands.

"What’s it to you?" you sass him, deciding to be uncooperative given the circumstances that brought the girl to you in the first place.

"She works for me."

"That’s what I thought, but then, it makes no sense how you assigned her a middle of the night mission without any intention to send backup."

"She wasn't alone, she had Bishop!" he argues.

You feel your body’s temperature rise, "Oh, she had Bishop? Another rookie? And where is your archer now?"

Fury remains calm in the face of your anger, "Right here, too shaken up to actually tell me anything that happened."

"Good news for you, if Kamala's mom doesn't have your head on a stick by morning, Belova definitely will," you warn him, "better sleep with your eye open. Kamala is in good hands, I'll send her your way once I decide she's ready." You aggressively end the call.

Carol comes out of the medical room right as you're setting her comms down, "Who was that?" she asks.

"Fury, he wanted to know where Kamala is, but I’m not telling him." Your jaw is stiff with residual rage.

"Why?"

"He put her in danger, I don't trust him with her." You pull both of your legs up on the couch and cross them.

"But he’s your boss," Carol objects, making sure to maintain a gentle tone so as to not anger you further.

"Yeah, and apparently you aren’t, he knows about us." She meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod.

Your response comes out louder than you expected, "You knew?"

She breaks eye contact, "It’s recent, I asked him about you."

"So what? We never needed to keep it a secret?"

She kneels on the floor in front of you, "That’s what I've been trying to tell you, we don't need to hide anymore."

"You had many opportunities to hide with me, but you always chose to hide from me." Your voice cracks as you feel your skin cool down.

"You should have said no, you should have pushed back," you search for the meaning of her words in her eyes, "when I asked you to quit your job," she clarifies, "I had no right to do that."

You sigh deeply before responding, "The moment you brought it up I decided I would, because I worry the exact same way every time you go on a mission, I figured it would be better if only one of us had to go through that."

Carol’s eyes travel to the ground, "So, are you gonna get back now that we…?"

"I haven't really thought about it," you confess, "about not being with you anymore."

A few hours later, Kamala calls for Carol, and you go check on her. She looks at you as you enter the room with what you can only describe as disappointment.

"I forced Carol to take a nap, so I’m gonna be looking after you for now," you feel the need to explain, she gives you a light nod and a smile, "how are you feeling?"

"Like an alien used my body to mop the floor." Her smile doesn’t go away.

You chuckle at her words, walking fully into the room and closing the door behind you, "I know what that's like, you're doing great, though."

"I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I’m not," you shrug.

"Carol said you're really good at patching people up."

"With Captain Marvel as your partner, you kinda have to get good at it." You inspect Kamala's bandages, they're sloppy, barely hanging on.

"Did she do these?" you ask rhetorically,

"She means well."

"I really should have checked on you sooner, I'm sorry." You get to work changing them all out for fresh ones.

"Are you guys done for good?" she blurts out as you wrap up her arm, making you shoot her a stern look, "Sorry, it's the painkillers," she quickly apologizes.

"I really don't know." You don't know the answer and you don't know if you wanna talk to a kid about it. You continue to patch her up as an awkward silence takes over.

When you’re almost done, she speaks again, "Can I tell you something?"

Her timid tone makes you worry, "Sure."

"After my first unintentional mission with Carol, Fury asked her to take me in for a few months to train me," her eyes fixate on her lap, "I lived on her ship, and we went on lots of missions together. Once a month, she would make a point to bring me back to Earth, so I could be home and see my family, I thought maybe she became exhausted of having a teenager in her home all the time, so she would use that break to rest, but I think she actually used that time to spend with you."

You nod while listening to her, you knew about this already.

"Eventually, I joined the Young Avengers and moved into the compound, I would constantly ask Fury to let me visit Carol, and I guess he found it cute, so he would help me show up unannounced in her ship, I thought I was doing a good thing, I thought she must get lonely…"

You did not know about that, your mind starts racing.

"What I’m trying to say is, I think Carol stopped spending time with you for fear I might show up at an inconvenient time," your features change abruptly into something she can't quite recognize, she starts to ramble, unable to stop herself, "I’m really sorry, I didn't know, I was just trying to be a good friend. On mother's day, I had to practically beg her so she would accept my invitation, please don't be angry." Her eyes meet yours again and she looks so scared for her life.

You cover your mouth with both hands to avoid saying anything impulsive and take a few deep breaths as you collect your thoughts, your delay only making Kamala grow more nervous.

"Thank you for telling me," you hesitate, carefully measuring your every word, "you couldn't have known, of course I’m not mad at you," your heavy breathing and your nails digging into your palms exposing your real feelings, "I’m gonna bring you lunch."

She mouths, "Okay," trying to calm herself down, and you exit the scene as fast as your feet allow you. When you come back, she's dozed off again.

Carol comes out of the bedroom after her much needed nap, you’re sitting on the couch and don’t bother greeting her before demanding, "I spoke to Kamala, is it true?" Carol becomes instantly alert, "You stopped letting me come visit you for fear of her showing up?"

"Yes," she simply concedes.

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she hangs onto my every word, I felt like I had a responsibility towards her."

"And, when I confronted you?"

"She was right there, I couldn’t." To both of your surprise, this conversation plays out a lot more civilized than you expected, given the topic.

"What about earlier?"

Carol exhales heavily, "She's just a kid, she wanted to spend time with me, I don't think she should be blamed for that."

"Hold on," you stand up, the gears in your brain turning, she's confused but decides to let you go through your process, "Fury was the one helping Kamala in and out of your ship, right?" you continue.

"Uh, yeah."

"And he knew about us all along?" Carol nods, trying to catch up with your train of thought, "He also knew when I was with you because I wasn't at work."

She takes a few steps closer to you, "What’s your point?"

"There is no way Kamala and I would have run into each other unless he wanted us to, and we never did." The puzzle pieces finally fall into place.

Carol flares up, "That son of a bitch!"

"Calm down, Captain Marvel."

"He was messing with me, on purpose." Her voice goes up an octave.

You have inadvertently unleashed a monster with your plausible deductions, "You don't know that, I’m sure he has better things to do."

"Like sending his teenagers on a midnight run to get their asses kicked?"

"Okay, that wasn't his brightest moment, but still."

"Who’s side are you on?" Carol’s powers only become more aggressive.

"I’m on the side of 'this is Valkyrie's ship,' and if you throw a fire tantrum I’m gonna be the one paying for it." You set your foot down on the very real implications of her behavior.

In an instant, you both snap your neck in the direction of Carol’s comms that still rest on the couch, you reach for the device, and she slaps your wrist out of the way, you grab her arm with your other hand, and she lights it up so you immediately let go, "That's cheating!" you yell, making her laugh. Taking advantage of her distraction, you kick her arm sending the device flying into the air and catching it behind you, stuffing it in your back pocket.   Carol follows your movement with her eyes and stares at your ass for a bit afterwards. A month ago she would have reached for the device without a second thought, but today, she wouldn't dare, still, that doesn't stop her from being a tease and biting her lip at the sight.

"Perv," you snark, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

She cocks a grin, "When you have something for so long and then lose it all of a sudden, you're bound to miss it, I’m all human, after all," she uses your own words to taunt you, "come one, give me a little spin."

You give her a death stare instead, "Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"

"Sorry." She feigns remorse, her grin still plastered on.

You turn around and walk to the kitchen with a huff, knowing you’re giving her what she wants. In times like these, it's nice to be appreciated. Her smirk turns into genuine delight, underneath her depraved ruse, she's happy to know you're still willing to play along with her.

You start slicing some veggies, much to her confusion, "I thought Kamala already ate?"

"It's for us, you dumbass."

"Oh," she's pleased, 'us,' sounds so sweet coming from your lips, "let me help you," she offers, and it’s now your turn to smile as you observe her every move.

You fall into a good rhythm cooking together until the ship’s door opens, triggering you both into combat mode, Carol's fists light up, and you grab the biggest knife you can find in a vice grip.

King Valkyrie waltzes into her ship, making you exhale in relief and put your weapon down.

"Val?" Carol calls to get her attention, Valkyrie turns in your direction, and you can immediately tell she’s pissed.

"I need my ship back," she orders.

"You promised you weren't gonna track me," you protest in return.

"And I didn't for a whole month," Val interjects, "that’s how good a friend I am, but your boss is on my ass about getting you back home, something about a double assassination attempt," she explains as she closes the door.

"A what?" Carol utters.

"Don’t worry about it," you mumble, knowing what Val is referring to.

"And I could really live with not having to deal with your shit for once," The King continues with a weak snark.

Carol can’t help but tease her, "Since when do you let Fury push you around?"

"You see my face?" Val asks rhetorically, "Do I look amused?" She is not in the mood to be messed with.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching their exchange, "Do you wanna—?" you gesture for Carol to continue working in the kitchen and guide Val to walk further into the vessel, "Double assassination? That's a bit much."

"He may have been exaggerating," Val shrugs.   "If it were up to me, we would be out of here in no time, but we have an extra passenger." You open the door to the medical room to reveal a sleeping Kamala.

"Shit! What did you do to her?" Valkyrie exclaims.

"I saved her life," you hush with pride.

Val lowers her voice to match yours, "She looks awful."

"You should have seen her when she arrived."

"Poor thing," Valkyrie slowly closes the door so her shock doesn't wake Kamala up, "so, are you two working together for little Marv's sake?"

"Yeah, Carol seems convinced that everything is Fury's fault."

"This?" Val points to Kamala’s door alarmed.

"Well, yes, but also with us," you hesitate.

"How so?"

_____

Carol, Valkyrie, and you are sitting at the table eating together, Val agreed to have a taste after you reassured her you did most of the cooking.

"Explain it to me again," The King asks, still unable to grasp Carol’s reasoning.

"Fury has been letting Kamala into my ship at random times so I grow paranoid of sneaking around with my wife."

"That makes no sense, did you talk to him about it?" Valkyrie responds, prompting Carol to shoot you an angry look.

"I took her comms," you tell Valkyrie, "she’s so livid, there is no way for that conversation to end well, regardless of his answer." Val hadn't noticed Carol's temper, she's good at concealing it, but she can't keep anything hidden from you, you know her much too well.

Your meal is interrupted by a beeping sound coming from Valkyrie’s pocket, "Speak of the devil." She silently excuses herself as she gets up to answer, walking towards the bedroom for some privacy, "What do you want, Nicholas?" despite your efforts, you can only hear half of the conversation, "Yes I am here."

Carol and you follow Val with your eyes until she's out of sight and you can no longer hear her voice.

"We can't leave until Kamala gets better," Carol almost commands you.

"I know that."

"We’re gonna need to stall." Her tone turns suggestive.

A devilish smirk forms on your face, "You got it, Captain." A rush of excitement takes over your body, it almost feels like old times, plotting and sneaking around.

With a loud swing of the door, Val comes back out and announces, "Alright, that's settled, I’m bringing you all home and then taking my ship with me."

Carol leans in to whisper in your ear without taking her eyes off Valkyrie, "Distract her, I have an idea."

You stand and get really close to Valkyrie to take her undivided attention, "But, what about Kamala?" As soon as you speak, Carol stealthily makes her way to the ship's engine.

"I am awfully sorry, but I really don't have time for this, her parents will have to forgive me," Val responds with no real remorse.

"What would Thor think about your decision?" You try to provoke her.

Val scoffs, "Do not bring the beefcake into this."

"So, you're really just gonna let Fury tell you what to do?"

"Whatever allows me to be back home and out of this mess the fastest."

"You’re growing soft, King," you mock.

"You’ll get old one day, too."

"I bet, how old are you this year? Five thousand and three?" Valkyrie begins to make her way to the control panel when Carol comes back up, panting.

"Oh, hey, you're still here?" Carol loudly asks, Val eyes her with suspicion as she keeps walking, "I was just making sure that your ship was all set to return home, turns out we're really low on gas, won't even make it halfway." She fights to catch her breath.

Valkyrie stops with a huff and turns to stare at you both, she's not stupid, "Look at you two conspiring assholes, almost made me forget you're in the middle of filing for divorce." Carol and you look at each other and smile.

"I’m sorry, Val, but we can't go back yet," you state in the firmest tone you can manage.

Valkyrie crosses her arms and sucks on her teeth as she realizes you’ve outplayed her, "Fine, do whatever you want, but I’m not dealing with this anymore," she takes her comms and gives them to you to add to your now growing collection of other people's devices, "I need a drink and a long bubble bath, do not even think about disturbing me." She takes a brand new bottle of Scotch from the kitchen and enters the bathroom.

Carol hadn't felt this good in a long time, the rush of pulling a half thought out plan followed by the satisfaction of it working out just right, with the added bonus that she got to do it by your side, "Good job," she congratulates you.

"Likewise." You have that smile on your face, the one that made Carol fall for you all those years ago, the one she has missed so dearly, not just in the past month, but long before that.

You go back to finishing your lunch in a somewhat comfortable silence. After a moment, Carol speaks, "It wasn't all about Kamala visiting at random," you look at her with a frown, "every time I saw you, I couldn't shake the fear that it might be the last."

"And not seeing me at all was a better choice?" you retort.

"Everyone else could come and go, but I could never deal with losing you, I don't know what I was thinking, I made you a vow and I couldn't keep it, I feel like such a failure." There is something in her eyes that you can’t fully identify, woe, perhaps.

"Why were you so adamant about blaming Fury for this?" You find some respite in knowing that, deep down, she didn’t actually believe it to be true.

"It was easier that way, I didn't have to admit that I’m scared that way," you give her a flat hum in response, "I’m really sorry, I don't expect you to forgive me, but please know that I am very, truly sorry, it's all my fault and I’m owning up to it, as soon as Kamala is better we can go home, and you don't have to see me ever again, if that's what you want."

It would break her heart if you said you didn’t want to see her anymore, fortunately, or not, you refrain from responding and finish the rest of your meal quietly contemplating her every word.

There is so much you wanna say, so many questions you want to ask her, but, would it even change anything?

As much as you want to lift her chin up and reassure her that you can work things out and everything is going to be okay, as much as wish, and hope, this isn’t something you can do on your own, you learned that the hard way, and it hit you like an alien mopping the floor with your body.

Despite your aching chest, you can’t just give her what she wants, it would come at too high a price from you, and you know you deserve better than that.

A few days later, you check on Kamala and conclude that she is stable enough to sustain the trip back. You come out of the room to an awaiting Carol, "I think she's ready to go home," she nods in response, "what did you do with the fuel? Because we're gonna need it about now." With Valkyrie having politely locked herself up in the bedroom since the night she arrived, it’s been on you to take charge once again.

Carol begins to think of all her options, "I’ll figure something out, don't worry about it."

"I worry about a lot of things when it comes to you." You tentatively walk closer to her on the couch.

She looks up at you with curiosity, "Like what?"

"Like if you're eating the right amount, or working too hard, or whether I'll ever be able to trust you again," you mumble the last part.

"I said I’m sorry, what more can I do?" she sighs.

"'Sorry' is not enough, Carol," you no longer have the energy to yell at each other, "what if Dar-Benn had said sorry, would that have made it all okay?"

Her features turn stern as she objects, "She tried to destroy every place I call home."

You look at her with sadness in your eyes, "Sometimes, I feel like that's exactly what you're doing to me." You slump on the other end of the couch and rub your temples.

"What if I took some time off?" she blurts out, making you snap your neck in her direction and you heartbeat race.

"What about your job?"

"I could ask Monica and Kamala to take over for a bit," she suggests nonchalantly.

"That doesn't sound right."

"I can talk to Val."

"She’s a King, she won't just take over because you asked." She seems too comfortable delegating the duties of the strongest Avenger.

"What about The Guardians?"

"The Guardians?" you repeat, "yeah, right."

She runs out of people she’s willing to sacrifice for you, so she gets a better idea, "Then, move into my ship with me!" Your brain stops working and you're unable to respond for an instant, "I don't hear a 'no,'" she insists.

"I didn't say 'yes'"

"What would it take?" you remain silent with a piercing gaze, "I’ll do anything, please." She turns her whole body to face you.

You feel very privileged to be seeing Captain Marvel begging, it makes you feel special knowing she's doing it just for you, so you give her a chance, "Soundproof your room."

"Done," she responds immediately.

"I wanna meet Yan," you continue.

Carol is taken aback with surprise, "Really?"

"He’s the most beautiful man in the universe."

That’s all it takes to convince her, "Okay, yeah, sure."

You worry your lip between your teeth and take much longer to speak this time, "I still want a divorce," you whisper, almost able to hear her heart breaking all over again, she nods sadly and her eyes travel to the ground.

Without any fuel left, Carol’s solution to get you back on Earth is to push the vessel from the outside herself.

You arrive safely to the Avengers compound and help Kamala into the med bay to let an actual doctor treat her for the rest of her recovery. Once you make sure Kamala is taken care of, and Carol has refueled Valkyrie’s ship, you get back in to make your way to New Asgard. All too quick for Fury to intercept.

As soon as you arrive to the Kingdom, Valkyrie exits her ship and all but kicks you out along with her, "I would love to say it was a pleasure, but it really wasn’t," she deadpans, retrieving her comms from you, much too exhausted to make her annoyance noticeable.

Carol and you both know she’s exaggerating, but you also know that you exhausted her trust, you’d better not need anything from her for the next three to five years.

It is only now that Carol realizes a flaw in your trajectory, as you take in her frown, you begin to work things out yourself,  "We’re stuck here," you say her thoughts out loud.

She hesitates slightly before responding, "There is one option…" It’s almost like a pre apology.

"Seriously?" You squint your eyes in dread, succumbing to your faith.

Carol picks you up bridal style and flies off. It only takes a few minutes for you to land on the front lawn of your shared home. She gently puts you down on the ground, and you step away from her, taking a moment to recompose yourself from the intimacy of being carried by your ex.

"Thanks," you say awkwardly, stretching your neck.

She gives you a tight lipped smile, "No problem," you both stand there in silence, unsure of how to act, "so, is this goodbye then?" she crosses her arms, bracing herself for your departure.

"No, I’m moving in with you," you state matter of factly, the confusion in her face is evident.

"What about the divorce?"

"Oh, yeah, we gotta do that." You had forgotten for a second, flying at Captain Marvel speeds always renders your mind hazy.

She retreats further into herself, lowering her gaze, "We can go first thing tomorrow."

You cradle her face with both hands, gently caressing her cheeks until her eyes meet yours, "I am giving you another chance to offer me that ring in the future, to help me trust you again."

Her eyes glimmer like the brightest stars, she turns her face to kiss one of your palms and leans into your touch, "I won't let you down this time, I promise."

@wolf79

[capybaraonabicycle]

Omg I will of course leave the final fic choice up to you, but doesn't "True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)" sound like the perfect setup to a Twissy fic 👀

Thank you, love!

~1.5 k words, so much for "let me just write 5 sentences for you real quick". But it's, of course, because you are right, this prompt was made for twissy 🥰

I have not actually read this again, so beware. But here you go :)

[ID: gif of Missy's face in close up, smiling down like she is pitying someone mockingly. end ID]

“Can't you move a bit faster?”

If silly little companion pulled on her sleeve any more roughly, he was going to lose that new hand of his. Or maybe his nose, she wasn't really picky. The nose might taste better, Missy mused. She was quite sure it was the original one and not some cyborg-technology the Doctor had partly scavenged, partly cooked up himself. But that reasoning implied she had paid attention to the egg-head's babblings and she had a general policy never to do that.

It was lucky, comic relief had paid closer attention to her, however, because she didn't even need to voice her threat. Breathing out her nose audibly and baring her teeth sufficed easily and he squeaked, jumped, dropped her hand and hurried on a few inches further away from her.

“I am a time lady, snickerdoodle” she drawled, making a point of walking a tad more measuredly instead of hurrying up. “I always walk at the exact right speed.”

The Doctor's snack had the audacity to huff but he wisely chose not to talk back.

“It- it is just” he stuttered instead, “the Doctor, he is -”

“-dying?” she finished, already bored. “That's his usual Thursday, pup.”

“He asked for you!” the idiot-in-training blurted out and despite herself, Missy stopped and blinked.

“He did?” Now that were exciting news for a change. A bright smile grew on her face, simultaneously with the rising panic in plucky assistant's eyes.

“He said you could save him” he whispered, somehow managing to have his voice creak when he wasn't even properly using it.

“He did?” Missy repeated and by now her smile was positively giddy. Eggy started whimpering softly.

Missy didn't give him time to gather his bearings, instead grabbing his arm forcefully in turn, making him jump again. She brought her face close to his for good measure, revelling at the terror in his expression.

“Why. Didn't. You. Say. So. Immediately?” she asked, her voice stuck on the same note throughout the words, too high, too cheerful to be anything but disconcerting. “Hurry up, pet: I've got a day to save!”

He shuddered away from her and picked up the pace again, not looking back. But this time she was right there with him, excitement surging through her veins. The Doctor was in actual danger, helpless, pathetic and he had asked for her. Because he loved her. Because he needed her. And – most importantly – she would get to gloat. Once she had saved him. Which she obviously would. No matter what idiotic thing he had done, her silly sausage, she would get him up and running in no-time. She was his best friend, after all. His very best friend.

They reached the Doctor's office only a few minutes later, and Missy immediately noticed how serious the situation was. The psychic waves coming from him were all over the place – and not in the fun, chaotic way they usually were – they usually were a lot subtler as well, some things he had learnt in his thousand years of spacetravel – they were hurtful almost, full of pain and distress. She knew he was lying on the ground before she saw him, knew he was still conscious, too, even though his other little munch was convinced of the opposite. Missy paid her little mind how she was sitting on the floor with him, crying and mumbling affirmations. She only got in the way, really, with the way she was cradling the Doctor's head in her lap, she couldn't help him after all.

“I am here, oh, apple of my eye” Missy exclaimed dramatically, dropping to the floor at his side with great flourish.

“I don't, I don't think, he can hear you” girl-companion hiccuped through her tears, but Missy waved her interjection away.

“Of course he can, silly-billy” she huffed, reaching for the Doctor's hand that had come to lie on his stomach. She pressed it to her chest, holding on tightly.

“I am here” she whispered. “Tell me, Doctor, what do you need?”

Oh, she liked playing the hero. Being the one who held the Doctor's life in their hands. Being the one everyone looked at with those worshippy, wide eyes. She thought, right now, she could fathom why he had gotten addicted to it.

“We think he got cursed” supplementary fuss said behind her back. “We were on Tigella, and there was this sceptre. The Doctor touched -”

The last of the words died in his throat when Missy whirled around to him.

“Do you know what you're talking about?” she asked sweetly, but didn't give him a chance to answer. “No, you don't. So shut up before I change my mind and make a nice soup out of the three of you instead of helping. - okay?”

She fluttered her eyelids to emphasize the point and his mouth snapped shot, his jaw tightening.

“Thank you, much appreciated.” Missy turned towards the Doctor again, nearing her ear to his mouth. “Doctor, what do you need?”

“I need -” he rasped and french-fries-friendywend gasped when she heard him speak, almost making Missy miss his next words. Did these bumbling humans ever learn? “- a kiss. From – my worst enemy.”

“Awww” Missy bit her lip, drawing back. He needed his arch-enemy! And he had thought of her. “How very touching! I am so honoured, I am not even gonna bargain.”

He didn't answer or open his eyes, but there was a pleased twitch around his mouth that made her press his hand.

“I have to say though, Doctor,” she purred, leaning in again, “if you wanted for me to kiss you, there would have been easier ways to ask than going through the trouble of getting cursed.”

Now he snorted and measured by the state he was in, this tiny bit of banter was the greatest love confessions out of all the ones he had bestowed upon her today already.

“Come on, now - “ he coughed, “Missy. You would – have never – been content with – any – thing less – elaborate.”

“True” she smirked. She was hovering right above him now. “And I appreciate the effort, darling.”

His lips moved, searching hers, and she waited just another second, savouring the moment. Then human-thingy coughed pointedly and she drew it out yet another second, simply to antagonise her. But his breath was getting visibly shallower and there was a slight tremble in his hand. Plus, his lips looked chapped like burnt Earth and just as inviting. So, finally, she led their mouths together, her hand slipping across the extra's leg to support his head.

The moment their lips touched, it was like the life flooded back into him, his mouth's movement becoming more purposeful and his tongue meeting hers cordially when she slipped it past his teeth. His free hand even twitched, like he was trying to grasp her frock.

Of their own accord, Missy's eyes closed and for a moment she lost herself in the feeling of their lips meeting, the familiar taste of his tongue, the desperate way his breath fanned her chin and cheek, reminiscent of many breathless nights spent together, oh so long ago.

But then, his movement slowed, a distressed sound escaping his throat. Before Missy could decide whether to draw back – finally killing the Doctor by kissing him to death would have been an end she could have deemed worthy of their friendship – a rough hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away from him. She hissed and whirled around, biting hard into the offending limp. So, the sniveller had decided he didn't need this body part, after all, it seemed.

He cried out, pulling his hand away from her mouth with a pathetic whine. Missy spat out some blood and fake skin with a huff. It tasted as horribly as she had expected.

“What did you do that for?” he sobbed.

“Don't touch me, crybaby” she huffed, turning back around to the Doctor.

He was still lying motionless, if possible even paler now.

“Why didn't this work?” his pillow croaked, close to tears again. Missy drew her eyebrows together in agreement. Indeed. Why hadn't it? It should have worked, she had been supposed to save the day!

For some reason, the Doctor was smiling. Mind, it was barely visible, frail as he was, but Missy could read his face like a book in every incarnation and that so was his satisfied smile.

“Seems like,” he mumbled, “we aren't – strictly – enemies anymore, love.”

“Of course, we are, don't be stupid” she pressed out. Only now she noticed how desperately she was clutching his hand, it was almost like she was trying to imitate spare-parts over at the door who was licking his own injured paw.

“Don't smile” she told the Doctor off, and she was sounding more serious than she had any right to be. “You are dying and I am your enemy. You don't get to smile at that.”

She was sure, if he had had any strength left, his smile would have grown now.

“I am – sorry, Missy” he breathed instead, “but I must – ask you – to fetch – Da – Davros.”

Missy felt her mouth drop open in shock and humiliation. Davros? Fucking Davros got to save her Doctor??

This was rock bottom.

Thank you for reading, I hope it is about what you envisioned <3