#in a keeping them upright way and idk it just made me feel like I DO have a place in other peoples lives in a good way

[bryoria]

just got back from a weekend camping trip with my dnd group, some of whom do a Lot more outdoorsy stuff than I and it was delightful to discover that despite that, I am perfectly competent and not to brag but much better at preparing and executing.*

my favorite part was when my very drunk (last night) friend/dm told me (this morning) that he didn’t realize that I put Marty Robbins on in the tent to calm him down last night and he thought I was just singing to him**

[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/ very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked.

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said” Satoru sighed “please get the fuck out the store or it will be, sir” and while there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once, well, in your defense the café was crowded yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would – today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyways.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly like he expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He laughed internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P-please don't kill me!” was the first thing you mewled as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I-I am all alone.. I- one moment-'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on, you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” he whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S- satoru, what?” Your voice trembled as the cash fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” you cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries escaping your lips. Well.. you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you seemed cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F-fuck you!” You yelled as his firm hands stopped you and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you until 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he'd figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud, it affected you. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise – actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so–

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? You wouldn't risk it, everyone talked about the criminals in the neighborhood, you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys.” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spouts, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He says and quickly advances forward punching him in the face. It happens fast, you can't even see it but one punch is all it takes to knock him down, as he climbs on top. He pulls his fists down interchangeably multiple times — must be about 7 blows that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P-please.. let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball as blood oozes from his mouth and scalp. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

His house was large and seemed haunted, there was a long corridor with 4 separate doors and frames hanging on the walls with paintings you didn't recognize. He gives you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was unique. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

-

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you, both physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9 he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry – spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily, as you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His erection pressed against you – he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away and his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger in you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway and he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You take a deep breath.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but – you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now as he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt, he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t give a fuck about your shock – he’s close.

“What.. agh– what are you doing? ” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into your spasming cunt, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace.

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you moan, feeling full.

“S-stop” but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you! clenching your cunt like the little slut that you are.

“Satoru– “you moan out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut that you are, baby?” he whispers softly and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please–” you muffle and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk — cock rips apart your insides making you shut your eyes as you ride out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess on him and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter) he lifts your leg up as he angles his cock so deep, you yell, overstimulated and still scared. He cums fast and as much as he can. What doesn't make it in your cunt seeps back out. It’s not a lot since you’re stuffed to the brim and he takes his sweet time to pull out. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep.

There is no going back now.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never curse anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually–

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Coming tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? Weren't the 2 guys enough?” Suguru mocks using a laughing face.

“Would've been just one but Toji’s conman didn't get the memo, wasn’t expecting otherwise.”

He scoffs.

”I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru double texts.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. He’d deal with Toji later, probably bribe him to kill for you on his behalf some more — that was his way of apologizing and Toji would do it with pleasure.

Satoru shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here. Always. Every day and for all of his nights.

He thinks about a quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night. 14 minutes till your shift ends. It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it. Or maybe you give the first part a meaning.

[armory-rasa]

Bazubands part 1: A LESSON IN HUMILITY 🤣

So one of my projects for the winter break was to make a set of bazubands made for myself -- a middle eastern armor piece that provides all-in-one wrist/forearm/elbow protection, and the easiest way to get the coverage required for SCA fighting. (My garb is viking, but such are the exigencies of modern safety standards, that fighters usually wind up with a mix of armor types.)

Anyway, I packed up the necessary tools and materials and took them with me when I went to visit my parents, which is why the backdrop for these pictures isn't my usual workshop.

Found a pattern on google, cut it out of 10-12 oz veg tan, traced/carved/tooled it:

(You can see why this is the easiest way to get elbow protection, it's WAY less fiddly than trying to do articulated plates around the joint.)

Soaked the elbow cop again (because it was starting to dry out by the time I was done tooling), rounded it out and stitched it up:

Dyed it black, in my parents' backyard:

(And if you use Angelus dyes, that's how you keep from spilling it -- the box has little perforations so that it can hold the bottle safely upright.)

WAX THAT MOTHERFUCKER:

It doesn't show in that picture, but I have a metal bowl of wax (jeweler's casting wax) melting on the stovetop. I alternate between brushing it onto the leather, which looks like the picture above, and then putting the leather in the oven at ~200F, at 10-20 minute intervals, until the wax soaks in. Repeat until the leather is fully saturated and does not absorb more wax. (This often takes hours, so find something else to multitask with.)

But when you're done -- ta da!

Your project will be thoroughly waterproof, very strong and hard, with a low lustre. It's functionally ABS plastic at this point.

The next step was padding, so I got some sheepskin and and fitted it to the inside:

(idk why it's so fucking orange, but the alternative was kind of a mint-mucus green. I think the orange is growing on me though.)

Time to pattern the other, simpler piece of the bazuband, because they're hinged to enclose your full arm:

(I couldn't do this earlier, and therefore do both pieces concurrently, because I had no idea how much bulk the padding was going to add to my arm. I suppose you could wrap your arm in padding when you're measuring at the start.)

Slapped a quick design on it:

(And carved & tooled it too, though I neglected to get pictures of that.)

And then--

DISASTER, MY FRIENDS.

I put it in the oven, and it lost its gd mind.

WHAT.

Seriously, just -- words do not do this abomination justice. o_O

LOOK AT IT.

Coming so close on the heels of the Khorasan pouch, which had turned out absolutely perfect and has been more widely shared and lauded than anything else I've posted, this was a humbling experience. 🤣 Like, yes you're good, Gabriel, but you're not immune to fucking up.

So what happened here? Why did the same leather as the bazubands, undergoing the exact same steps and processes, turn out like THIS?

I'd have to repeat the experiment to 100% confirm my theory, but I'm pretty sure the critical difference is that I was speed-running this one, and I didn't wait for the dye to fully dry before I started waxing it. It wound up with, essentially, wet leather hermetically encased in wax, and since the water didn't have anywhere to go, it did weird things to the structure of the leather fibers when it started heating up. And because I don't often work with wax, I had somehow never run into this situation before, and thus already learned that lesson.

Ah well.

It wasn't a huge amount of leather, and it was only like two hours of work, so I'm not that fussed about it. (More embarrassed than anything else, at what feels like a very rookie mistake -- and conscious that it could have been SO MUCH WORSE if that had happened to the larger bazuband pieces, which had a lot more time and materials sunk into them.)

Anyway, I'm going to tweak the pattern a bit, make it narrower at the wrist and a bit longer, and change the design to something that matches the dragon better -- and let it fully dry this time. 😂

[mlmxreader]

He's Still Haunting Me | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "I can take on anything, everything"+"Don't tell me you love me"

[Can this one also be angst? Idk if you want to put it in war time. Maybe Alfie reminiscing on a love he lost in the trenches??] ❞

: ̗̀➛ Goliath stumbles upon some old photographs in his uncle's attic, and has some questions about the man in them.

: ̗̀➛ War, blood and gore, death, trauma, grief

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It had been years since Alfie had even seen your face; the photographs taken years ago were now collecting dust in the attic. He never thought that his nephew, Goliath, would find them; let alone throw them onto his desk and stare at his uncle with a morose, remorseful gaze.

Goliath was a good man, although his youth made him naive as to what had happened during the war; Alfie never liked to talk about it much with family, but he knew he couldn't excuse himself from it as he picked up one of the photographs with a trembling hand. He sniffled, shaking his head.

"Where'd you find these?"

"Your attic," Goliath replied, "who is he?"

Alfie sighed, dropping the photograph and running his hand down his face; already his vision was going blurry, and words seemed to fail as he struggled to regain his words properly enough to speak.

"He was the only fuckin' one who did me any good."

"Who is he?" Goliath pressed. "A friend?"

"Bit more 'an that," Alfie chuckled bitterly, sniffling as he cleared his throat and picked the photograph back up. "Remember how your mum always said that you was meant to have two uncles?"

The nephew nodded.

"He was meant to be the other one," Alfie whispered, "my mum... my mum loved him to bits..."

"Gran knew?" Goliath whispered.

Alfie nodded. "So did your mum... they knew what we was... didn't mind unlike some cunts..."

"Alfie..." Goliath frowned, furrowing his brows.

"It's alright, boy-o," Alfie held up his hand for a moment as he coughed, shaking his head. "He were my left hand, look. My fuckin' Lieutenant... went to war the very fuckin' second he found out I got conscripted... wouldn't fuckin' let me to without him... he were gonna be my husband... anywhere I went, he was fuckin' adamant he had to go, too... always fuckin' hauntin' me, that beautiful bastard."

Goliath stood up, gathering the photographs in his shaking, large hands. "I'm sorry for upsettin' you, Uncle, I just thought-"

"Sit down!" Alfie snapped, waiting for his nephew to obey before he continued, "you ought to fuckin' know about him, anyway. I was a selfish cunt for not tellin' you - that was always his thing, y'know."

"What was?"

"We was there when you was born," Alfie chuckled. "He held you when your mum slept and I... I always knew he'd have been a good dad - had the temper for it better than I ever fuckin' will."

"Mum never mentioned him."

"No," he sighed. "No one would... it still hurts..."

Alfie could still picture it even now, the sounds of the shells and the grenades roaring and spitting out flames; the feeling of the deep and wet mud vibrating and wobbling with the rumble of tanks. He could remember the white flash as Fokker DR.1 planes hunted down Airco DH.9s.

He could remember how he held you against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead; able to feel your limp hand against his forearm. He was on his knees, eyes wide and wild and full of unshed tears; one hand cradled the side of your head, the other at your middle.

From the waist down, you were on your side, your free hand pressed against the ground as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You weren't even looking at him, the unwounded side of your head pressed against his chest while the blood on the other side seeped through his fingers.

Alfie knew.

He had killed you the second that he had allowed you to go to war with him. He had killed you, and all of his woe and his remorse could never be washed away.

He killed you.

His eyes, he could never close them the same way again; staring into nothing as he realised that he had become a monster. He had become evil; his brows were slightly scrunched together as if he were about to howl with loud sobs.

His mouth was agape as he kept rocking back and forth with your corpse, muttering under his breath.

"I can take on anything, everything, but I need you with me," he would say. "Please. Please. Don't tell me you love me, don't say anything, just don't leave me. Don't fucking leave me."

"Alfie?" Goliath cleared his throat as he swallowed thickly. "You good?"

Alfie shook his head. "I killed him."

"No."

"I let him go to the trenches," Alfie confessed, "if I'd have told him to stay with Gran and your mum... he would still be here... you'd know your other uncle..."

"How was you to know?"

"He was the smart one," Alfie huffed. "He'd have known... you would'a fuckin' loved him, can tell you that... he loved goin' up fuckin' mountains... never was a better lieutenant. Never was a better man..."

Goliath reached over as he frowned, holding his uncle's hand. "He's still here, y'know. He ain't left you."

Alfie laughed softly. "No, he ain't. He's fuckin' hauntin' me - why'd you think I'm always gettin' fuckin' daffodils in me garden? It's him! He's hauntin' me!"

Goliath laughed for a moment. "What if we puts up a memorial for him? Y'know, just for you, Mum and Gran?"

"He would've hated that," Alfie pointed out. "He never wanted nothin' more than to get me home... he didn't even see fuckin' armistice."

Goliath swallowed thickly as he let go of his uncle's hand and leaned back in his seat. "I... I'm sorry, Alfie... he meant a lot to you... and I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Alfie shook his head as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, g'wan. Go put they back... we'll talk more about it later, yeah? I'll tell... I'll tell you all the things that my Lieutenant would've shot me for fuckin' sayin'."

Goliath smiled as he gathered up the photographs. He still couldn't quite believe that no one had told him about his uncle by marriage before, but he could understand why; Alfie was haunted by the war more than anyone else in the family, it made sense he didn't want to speak about losing the man he loved to it.

[chcrryade]

when you think you know what i know.

Hasun, and all of the people he has to learn how to understand.

INCLUDES ⁺⠀lee hasun, cherryade ensemble. TIMESTAMP ⁺⠀JULY—NOVEMBER 2021. WARNINGS ⁺⠀profanity, injury, smoking, arguing. the piece as a whole is kind of a mish-mash of scenes!! WORD COUNT ⁺⠀7.8K. NOTE ⁺⠀i guess this is.. a chapter? or at least a little insight into these weirdo freaks idk.. but i hope u like it anw!!! if u hv any thoughts please tell me or i’ll blow up!!! and finally thanku to my fave isa for making the decision for me for this to be through hasun’s eyes (bc it was originally gonna b doyeon LOL). love u 🫂

ఇ⠀PRACTICE ROOM⠀3RD JUNE, 2021

Doyeon looked like he was an untied shoelace away from snapping.

It was just them in the practice room, the others having left not long after the choreographer did to spend the rest of their evenings however they so desired. Hasun stayed because of the creeping worry he was falling behind, an uncomfortable feeling hanging over his head that if he didn’t get up to standard soon he would simply be cut. Easily, thoughtlessly, as he had seen the company do before and feared they would do again.

Why Doyeon was still there, though, he had no clue. The older seemed miles ahead of him in terms of talent, every move he made flowing perfectly into the next. Doyeon was like honey, slow and sure and golden, and Hasun supposed that made him something of an irritating bee trying to replicate it for himself. He had first tried to just shut him out, focus on his own steps and twists and turns, but soon the force of Doyeon’s trainers against the wooden floor were starting to drown out the music from the speakers, and Hasun had been watching him ever since, barely attempting to keep up the pretence of following the routine anymore. His movements were ghosts of what they had been earlier, eyes fixed on the figure next to him in the mirror.

The older boy seemed.. Off. What was once honey-smooth now looked more jerky, forceful. Like it was being pulled out of him, every movement too big for his body. His face was blank, eyes far away, and his hands were curled into fists at his side. Hasun’s brows drew together, mouth opening to call out, to try and snap Doyeon out of whatever trance he looked to have fallen into, but he faltered in the face of the rhythmic beat of trainers against floorboards and the melodic vocals of their mock-up debut track playing on repeat.

Everything seemed to grow in volume. Feet on the floor. His breathing in his ears. Music from the speaker, lyrics from the song. It was a climbing crescendo, and the chilling feeling was back—running along the nape of his neck, a feather-light touch across his skin that left it crawling. Something felt wrong.

The music only felt like it got louder, after that. As if protesting against the sense of dread that was slowly seeping into his train of thinking. His hands were cold, his feet ached, his eyes widened. Everything was slowing down, and Doyeon was stopping in place, and his eyes seemed to snap open in realisation, finally awake, and then—then he was crumbling to the floor, a pained yell ringing out around the room that echoed horribly in Hasun’s ears. The demo track carried on.

He was by his side in a second, hands cautious as they hovered for a moment before he finally settled them first on his back, then moved to his shoulder. He didn’t know what to do. Doyeon pushed to sit upright, the clouded-over look in his eyes replaced with something that Hasun couldn’t name, and didn't know how to describe. 

“Hyung. Are—are you alright? Should I go get someone?”

The way the older one reacted made it seem like nothing sounded worse. He jerked further upright, shifting out of Hasun’s hesitant grip, and his hand made to grab at his arm, eyes suddenly frantic. “No, fuck. I’m.. I’m alright, Hasun-ah. See?”

To demonstrate, he pushed himself to stand and presented his hands in a flourish. It was almost believable, until he moved to take a step and one of his knees nearly buckled all over again. Doyeon slumped back to the floor before his legs could do it for him, face pale and all excuses shocked silent.

Hasun was starting to panic. His hands rose to try and reach for the dancer again, but he shoved them back by his sides when he saw how they were shaking. Idiot, he berated himself, glaring hard at the floor so Doyeon didn’t see the unsurety in his face. You’re supposed to be helping.

“Are you sure, hyung? Please don’t lie, I don’t.. I don’t know what to do.”

To Hasun’s horror, he felt the hot prickle of tears threatening to fall, a broken half-sob clogging up his throat before he choked it down and clamped a hand over his mouth. Shame came not long afterwards, the tips of his ears burning red-hot. He couldn’t be breaking down, not now, not here—not when, if anything, it should’ve been Doyeon brought to tears. Doyeon who seemed to be the picture of calm in that moment, teeth coming to gnaw at his bottom lip as he yanked up the leg of his sweatpants to inspect his ankle, brow furrowing slightly at what he saw. He lifted his gaze from his leg to try and reassure the youngest one more time, but stopped still when he saw the tears shining in his eyes, resolutely avoiding eye contact. His words faltered, coming out stilted, awkward. The positions had flipped, and now Doyeon was the one with no clue of what move to make.

“Hasun-ah, I’m fine. Hyung’s fine. There’s no need to—just. Don’t cry, Hasun-ah. Please.”

His attempts at consolement were flimsy, crumbling at the foundations, and so he gently set a hand on the maknae’s shoulder instead. That seemed to be all Hasun needed for him to collapse into Doyeon’s shoulder, head down and cries muffled in the thin fabric of his sweater. The demo track was still playing from the speakers, lyrics looping over and over. Hasun wished he was back in the dorms. In bed, underneath a duvet in a room that at thirteen had seemed so like a stranger but he now knew like the back of his hand. He wanted his tears to dry, the music to stop, a warm meal that evening, and for Doyeon to be alright. For everyone to be alright. He wanted to make it, and he wanted everyone to be fine when they did.

Doyeon appeared to understand without him saying a word. He simply pulled him in closer, a hand making its way to stroke over his hair softly, tangling and untangling the strands between his fingers. There they sat; in the practice room long after everyone else had left, long after the sun had set. Bruises were starting to form around Doyeon’s ankle, sickening shades of purple and blue. Hasun’s hands were still cold, his head starting to hurt from the soft sobs that wracked through his frame. Neither of them paid any mind, for now.

“We’ll be alright, Hasunnie. We’ll get through this.”

Maybe it was an empty promise, but Hasun didn’t care. It was good enough for him.

ఇ⠀CLUB (?)⠀5TH JULY,  2021

“Why are we here, Jalen-hyung?”

The strobe lights were hurting his eyes, painting him pink and purple and blue and a whole other range of colours he was too overwhelmed to remember the name of, the bass of whatever EDM remix they were bumping was matching how fast his heart was beating, and his hands were sweaty from where they were holding onto the back of Jalen’s shirt in a vice grip as the older led them through the back-alley club he’d dragged him to—for what reason, he could do nothing but guess.

Jalen turned back to him, the white of his teeth when he grinned gleaming at him even through the pseudo-darkness. “Inspiration. Why else? You said you wanted to write a song, didn’t you?”

Hasun shifted, straightening up when somebody knocked into him from behind and then carried on pushing their way through the crowd without so much as an apology. “Not about anything like this. I’m not—I’m not even allowed to be in here yet.”

All he got in response was an eyeroll, and then suddenly Jalen was off again, finally coming to a stop at a rare empty booth that he shoved Hasun into before cramming up next to him. Sweat was starting to bead across his forehead from the stuffiness of the room, and the older one’s voice was too loud in his ear when he leaned in close to yell in it.

“So just don’t tell anyone! It's not like I’m making you do shots, I’m just trying to get you inspired. What is it you even want to write, anyway?”

That was where Hasun stopped in his tracks, suddenly far too interested in the rings on his fingers than meeting Jalen’s eyes. The thing was.. He himself didn’t really know. Hasun just knew he wanted to do something, contribute something other than his vocals on the tracks and dancing for the stages. Every single one of the other members already had things to show, traits they were known for, both personalities and reputations already established (for better or, in some cases, for much worse), and Hasun had nothing. He was the nobody, the new boy. So he figured a good way to show people he wasn’t going to just stand around without pulling his weight would be to get his name in the credits for one song, at the very least.

But he couldn’t relay all that to Jalen. He’d probably just laugh, leer, pat him on the head and tell him that his voice would be more than enough, because he didn’t get it. Because it wouldn’t, it wasn’t, and it never would be. That was one of the first things he’d learned as a trainee, standing in the cold one November evening while his cousin stubbed out cigarettes under her stilettos and ingrained into him things that he’d never learn in any practice room.

They never just want your voice. Or your talent as a dancer, or your pretty white smile. It’s not that easy. You have to be someone, you know. You have to be the one who tells the best jokes, or gets the most girls, or the one who looks like they just don’t give a fuck about anything—about anyone. You have to write the songs, or get yourself onto billboards, or say the most in all the interviews. You’re not enough. She never said it, but it was written in the fine lines, the footnotes. Hasun was desperate to please and to prove, so with knuckling down and shoving some lyrics in front of their producer’s face with a hopeful smile he hoped to kill both of those birds with one stone.

But he couldn’t relay all that to Jalen. So instead he just shrugged, raising his head and trying not to mumble so he’d be heard over the music. 

“I don’t know. Just.. Something. Something fun.” Something worthy. Something that’s enough.

The older one again gestured at the atmosphere around them, with a force that sent one of his dangling earrings swinging and an eyebrow raised in expectation. “Fun? We’re at just the place for it.”

For him, maybe. Hasun had overheard all the stories Haeil had playfully forced him to tell the rest about his life back home, everything he’d seen and done so far. Scenes like this probably felt like a place where he could slip into a second skin, into a nature he’d grown up inhabiting. For Hasun it felt like being thrown into the deep end, locked in a cage with his oxygen cut off. Everywhere he looked was another flash of glittering fabric, sparkling jewellery, and on occasion an LED-endowed vape clutched in the hand of a drunk partygoer—which Hasun was half-sure was allowed just as much as him even being in this place at all, but from how run-down the entire establishment looked (from both the outside and in) he wouldn’t be surprised if the smoke alarm���s wires had been cut long before anyone started flicking lighters or hitting blinkers.

The air felt as if it was weighed down, so laden with the force of sweat and perfume and powder that Hasun felt that if he stuck his tongue out he would be able to taste it. He laughed weakly in response to Jalen’s question and shimmied down further into his side, trying his best to melt into the cheap leather even if the stench of the alcohol that had seeped through it made him want to retch.

Unfortunately, Jalen wouldn’t let him off that easily. His grip around his arm wasn’t a rough one, but it was firm enough that he tugged him back into sitting upwards with ease. His gaze when he turned to stare into Hasun’s eyes was unflinching and uncomfortable, and the youngest wished he’d said yes when Jalen had asked if he was doing anything that night.

“Stop moping, just humour me for a minute. Ignore this shitty music, ignore everyone else—just stay in your head and think. Lyrics can be anything, you know, no one’s expecting us to bring anything deep to the table. Fuck it, you can write about the awful shade of purple they’ve painted the walls if it means you’ve got a song on your hands. Just.. You know. Try.”

Try. Try and write something fun. Something enough. He tossed Jalen a wary look in the face of his gentle encouragement, but broke the eye contact and tried to push out the overbearing noise thumping into his skull anyway. Stay in your head. His mind was quiet, a place of solace, and he slowly lowered his head into the comfort of his folded arms atop the table, tugging his beanie down over his ears in an attempt to muffle the bass even further, and thought. Felt.

It took a while for anything to form, while he sat there and stared into the ocean of neon lights and young recklessness, and when it did it didn’t even come all at once. It didn’t come in a perfect flow of intro-verse-chorus-verse, but instead in broken lines. Or rather, just one. But he shot upright all the same, and Jalen next to him jerked in surprise, eyes wide as Hasun tugged harshly on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Hyung. We need to go. I need to write this down.”

Jalen’s grin was just as wide as it had been earlier, and looked to gleam even brighter as he got to his feet and gave the youngest a hand, arm around his shoulders as he tugged him out the same entrance they’d come in from. Hasun’s eyes were trained on his feet, at the floor, desperately trying to keep what he’d thought of in mind, trying not to lose it to the tug of the crowd and the rhythm of the music. It wasn’t whole, wasn’t any sort of final product or finished piece, but when it was..

When it was, then maybe it would be enough. But only then.

ఇ⠀CHERRYADE DORM⠀21ST JULY,  2021

The voices in the kitchen were far too loud for Hasun’s liking. He almost hadn’t heard them at all, because debut was around the corner and they were being worked to the bone, but the combination of the walls being so thin, his room being the closest to the kitchen, and the slamming of the front door with the harsh back-and-forth between whoever was out there that followed not long afterwards was enough to rouse him. He shifted upwards in his bed, bleary eyes struggling to make out one foot from the other as he shoved back the thin duvet and reached for a hoodie tossed over the chair shoved against his tiny desk. He was gentle as he pushed open the door, quiet as he pushed it closed behind him. The only light was coming from the warm yellow bulb under the stove hood, and bathed in it he could just barely make out Haeil sitting on the counter, face half obscured by the figure in front of him. 

Hasun made to step closer, to ask what was going on, until he snapped to full attention at the sound of Jalen’s voice, the coldness of his tone cutting straight through the otherwise warm atmosphere.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Are you drunk? Is that it? How could you do something so stupid?”

Haeil’s face twisted into something ugly, and he shifted away from the older man in front of him, hand reaching up to rub at one of his eyes. His reply was just as harsh, his usual apathetic state turned cruel by whatever argument he was in the middle of.

“I’m not drunk, and I’m not stupid, either. God, you make it sound like I asked for this to happen. If you’re just going to give me a lecture, you can fuck off. I can take care of this by myself.”

Jalen’s returning scoff hurt Hasun’s ears. He only pressed closer, bringing his hands up to hold Haeil’s face in a way that was far too soft for how he was berating him only moments earlier. Hasun felt slightly sick, skin burning too hot for the thick fabric of his hoodie. He didn’t think he was supposed to be seeing this or hearing this at all. But he couldn’t turn away, rooted to the spot out of the morbid curiosity that was eating through him.

“Can’t you just let me help, for once? It’s late. Knowing you, you’ll knock everything over and wake everyone up. I don’t want to deal with a pissy Yijun at two in the morning, thanks.”

Despite how Jalen’s tone had lightened, lifting at the end in a half-attempt at a joke, a hand reaching out for Haeil to take, a silent plea for them to agree on a truce, the rapper was resistant. He squirmed out of the vocalist’s hold once again, and turned his eyes towards his feet, words only just above a mumble—so quiet that Hasun strained forward in order to hear, and hated himself a bit for it.

“You’re not my mother.”

The play at being civil dropped, then. So abruptly that Hasun could feel it in the air—like there was a drop in temperature, a shift in the mood. It was a step too far. The three steps back that came as the fallout to Jalen’s weak excuse of moving forward. Jalen straightened up, all previous notions of helping Haeil discarded, forgotten. His next words sounded mean in a way Hasun hadn’t known Jalen to be, the sardonic smile visible even if his back was turned.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, isn’t it? Has she called?”

Silence rang out in the kitchen. If Haeil had taken it a step too far, then Jalen had just ripped it apart with his bare hands. All was quiet for a few moments longer, before the oldest moved to speak up again, hand slowly raising to Haeil—who was just.. Staring at him, eyes saying far more than either of them could ever out loud and body stunned still—again, before he dropped it with a sigh and turned on his heel. Hasun froze on the spot, unsure of whether he should return to the safety of his own room or press himself as close to the wall as possible and hope Jalen would brush right past him in the dark.

But before he could come to a decision Jalen had solved the issue for him, simply brushing straight past him without a mere glance in his direction and wrenching open the door to his own room, letting it slam carelessly shut behind him and leaving Haeil behind on the counter watching in silence, mouth having opened as if to call out after him but then thinking better of it, and Hasun with his heart thumping hard in his chest, socked feet unmoving from where he’d been stood throughout the whole ordeal.

And then there were two. Haeil looked to have curled in on himself, head hanging and arms loosely wrapped around his sides, and Hasun felt he had to do something—because if he’d gleaned anything from the conversation he’d just overheard, it was that something had gone wrong. So he steeled himself, pulled his hood down from where he’d had it covering his messy head of hair, and stepped forward into the low kitchen light.

“Hyung? Are you—is everything alright? I just heard some noise, so..” The lie settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach, but it was better than admitting what he’d just overheard. Haeil startled at his voice, head snapping up to face him, and what looked back at Hasun was a face that held something far worse than any of the scenarios the youngest had been thinking of. Haeil’s face was bruised, beaten, the beginnings of a black eye already starting to form. His arms looked to have fared a little better, but there was blood still sluggishly oozing from one of his scraped knees. The laugh he let out in response to Hasun’s question echoed around the empty room, sounding almost hollow.

“Does it look alright? Think some concealer would cover it up fine? Some drunk fuck jumped me while I was out for a—just. While I was out.”

His skin was burning hot to the touch, and Hasun’s hands were shaking as he tried to figure out what to do. He felt like he was back under the stark white lights of the practice room with a fallen Doyeon before him, a fawn on unstable legs. Haeil was a lot less receptive to his panic, though, simply pushing himself off of the counter (biting back a curse when he did so, the leg he’d injured shaking a bit when he landed on it too hard on his bare feet) and opening up the cupboard they’d unspokenly agreed was meant for the more miscellaneous things, fishing around for the unopened box of plasters and throwing Hasun a half-hearted thumbs-up when he found them.

“I’ll be fine, Hasun-ah. It’s nothing water won’t fix. Why don’t you go back to bed, hm? Hyung’s sorry for waking you up.”

The bathroom was all the way at the other end of the hall, and Hasun watched on in silence as Haeil hobbled his way down, melting further and further away from the warm kitchen light and disappearing into the darkness, the only sound being his bare footsteps padding across the wooden floor. Bright white illuminated his silhouette when he switched on the bathroom light, the blooming bruises on his pale skin almost unearthly in the unnatural glow. He turned and met Hasun’s waiting gaze over his shoulder, and the look he gave him felt inconceivable. The moment stretched on for a beat, another.

Haeil turned back and slammed the door shut behind him, taking the light as he went. Hasun, now standing alone in the kitchen, clad in his socks and sleep shorts and threadbare hoodie, felt like there was something he wasn’t getting—that there were lines he couldn’t see, and so was unable to read between.

But he supposed he’d never find out now. The only thing left to do was flick the stove light off and trudge back to his bedroom, falling back onto his bed and being unable to do anything but close his eyes and try to dream.

Haeil’s eyes stared back at him when he did; asking a question Hasun didn’t know how to answer, wanting to hear things Hasun didn’t know how to say.

ఇ⠀CAFÉ⠀30TH AUGUST,  2021

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Yijun smile, but it was certainly one of the only. Hasun had no clue who he was talking to on the other end of the phone, but whoever they were had the main rapper grinning like a fool, all while Jaehee and himself were left to sit opposite and make small talk—which wasn’t going all that well either, seeing as Jaehee was far too busy trying to eavesdrop into the other’s phone call to make any sort of conversation with the youngest. So the only real source of entertainment he had was to play with the straw poking out of the top of his smoothie (that Yijun had earlier commandeered one sip of, and then proceeded to fake-retch at the taste of) or people-watch from their convenient window seat, watching as couples and friends and lone individuals wandered by.

“Do you have to? Fine, if whatever you’re doing is more important than me, then go ahead, but just know I’m getting you back next time I see you. Mm. Alright. Love you, bye.”

His conversation apparently having ended, Yijun carelessly let his phone clatter back onto the table and sat back in his chair, taking his coffee with him as he did so. Jaehee leaned forward eagerly, grin on his face as he started his interrogation.

“Who was that?” The leering grin on his face made Hasun feel like Jaehee knew perfectly well who it was, and was only asking to piss Yijun off.

The question served its purpose to a T. Yijun turned his nose up and released the bitten straw from his lips to snap back at him almost immediately. “None of your business. Nosy fuck.”

The fellow rapper pulled a face, slumping back into his own seat but not staying deterred for long, piping back up after only a few seconds of sulking. “I was just asking, God.”

Hasun wanted to finish his drink as fast as possible and leave the two to their oncoming argument, but at the same time he felt he needed to attempt to mediate. Surely they wouldn’t start yelling like they did on occasion back at the dorms—seeing as the café they were all sitting in was a very public place, and with Yijun’s first group scandal already under his belt after his run-in with a senior at Inkigayo they were already walking on thin ice.

“Well, don’t.” Came Yijun’s snappy reply, taking another pointed sip of his drink that drained the rest of it and setting it back down on the table with the force that made his phone jump in its place face-down on the smooth surface. “Why are you even here? I don’t want you to be.”

The pout on Jaehee’s face was starting to morph into something that looked more like a scowl. “Who died and made you leader? I’ll go where I want, I don’t care if you want me there or not.” It seemed like a final statement, but then the rapper was turning towards Hasun with a sudden grin that made him look like something of a cartoon shark, wide and pointy. “Hasunnie does, doesn’t he?”

Shifting awkwardly in his seat, now with the force of two unblinking pairs of eyes on him, the youngest gave a nondescript gesture that was an amalgamated mix of a shrug and a nod and wished the ground would swallow him whole. Jaehee huffed, seemingly unsatisfied with his answer, and Yijun burst into laughter.

“Doesn’t look much like it to me. You’re really running out of allies if even our maknae can’t bear to spend time with you.”

And with that, Jaehee reached his breaking point for the day. It always went like this, as Hasun had come to learn over the years they’d spent together. Jaehee prodded, and then Yijun shoved and broke and snapped in retaliation. The scraping sound of his chair legs against the floor was ugly, grated against Hasun’s ears, but where he winced, Yijun simply picked his phone back up and went back to scrolling mindlessly at something or other, not sparing the rapper a singular glance.

“I’m calling Jaeyoung-hyung. I’ll just—I’ll see you back at the dorms.”

He was gone without another word, one hand clutching the remnants of his drink and the other bringing his phone up to his ear, turning back for a moment to meet the eyes of Hasun watching him go and throwing him a final thin smile that looked too fake on his lips before he pushed the door open with a shoulder and was disappearing off down the street, only pausing for half a second to pull his hood up over his head despite the late-afternoon sun still being high in the sky.

“Well,” Yijun began, shoving his phone in his pocket for the time being as soon as Jaehee was out of sight and turning to face Hasun properly. “That was quicker than usual. Maybe it’s because my friend on the phone is a touchy subject for our Jaehee.”

It had sounded more like a sore spot for Yijun himself, but Hasun wasn’t too keen on meeting the same fate as Jaehee, and so kept his mouth shut. The silence that then fell over them wasn’t awkward, by any means, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. Hasun just focused on finishing his drink, wondering if he should tell the older man to go ahead and not bother to wait up. The words were on the tip of his tongue, shifting to sit further upright so they’d come out coherent and not a jumbled mess of syllables, but before he could say them Yijun slumped down in his chair, a hand coming up to rake through his hair before the other joined it to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes for a brief moment.

He looked tired, all of a sudden, all the fight from earlier having left him. He reached into his pocket for his phone again, but swore under his breath when the screen stayed dark, battery dead. The youngest watched as his hands squeezed together tight before just barely relaxing, fingers coming to pick at hangnails and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Hasun took a breath, another, and then slowly brought his own phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and held it out to the rapper. He didn’t know what Yijun wanted it for, but he was going to offer it all the same. Watching the older all twitchy and uncomfortable felt odd, unnatural, and he wanted to see him back to his normal self (even if that didn’t mean someone particularly kind, or caring, or all that nice at all) as soon as possible. Yijun stopped his picking and looked at the home screen of Hasun and Eunhee arm-in-arm to the face of the youngest and back again, hesitating.

“Take it, hyung, it’s fine. Just don’t.. I don’t know, drain my bank account.”

Yijun scoffed and rolled his eyes, quickly back to his usual brash act even if his hands were wary when they took the device from Hasun’s hands. “As if. I’d only do that to Jaehee, Hasun-ah. You’re my favourite.”

Hasun grinned, happy to see him back to normal even if it was just for show, just to save face. He then finally finished off his own drink and set it on the table, getting the feeling he wasn’t really supposed to stick around any longer to listen in on any more conversations Yijun was probably going to have. He started to get his things together, yanking the zipper of his hoodie up and shooting the rapper a smile.

“I’ll go first, Hyung. Call a cab when you go if it gets late, don’t walk home on your own.”

Yijun made to protest, but Hasun stopped him before he could say a word and stood from his seat, granting the older a wave as he gently pushed open the door and stepped out into what was gradually turning into the early evening. He’d get back before dark if he walked quickly, and so only turned back for a moment to grin one last time at the rapper before he turned and was on his way, wondering absently what was waiting (or rather, what was left) for him in the fridge back at the dorms.

Later that night, when Yijun slipped into his room after only a quiet knock, he gently placed his phone back onto the bedside table and gave Hasun another one of his rare smiles, small but genuine. There were no words that needed to be shared between them, nothing more that needed to be said.

It was only a small moment of understanding, one that passed as quickly as it had arrived, but it left Hasun feeling warm all the same. Left him feeling like he was getting somewhere, finally.

ఇ⠀DOWNTOWN GANGNAM⠀16TH SEPTEMBER,  2021

This was supposed to be a coffee run. They had practice in ten minutes, and instead of doing what he said he was going to do, Minhui had hopped out of the car, blew a kiss goodbye to Jaeyoung (and got a middle finger in return), took Hasun by the arm, and dragged him along to the closest shopping centre. He’d counted three coffee shops, and the dancer hadn’t spared a glance at any of them. Minhui seemed more interested in the rack of fur coats—made from animals that Hasun could only guess, in so many outlandish patterns and thicknesses and the rest that it almost looked like a scene from a movie.

“Hyung,” he hesitantly began, looking over his shoulder before drawing closer to the still-browsing older boy. Minhui only hummed in response, half-listening. “I really don’t think we should be..”

“Shut up. Go try this on.”

A coat twice the size of him was suddenly being flung in his direction, and he only just barely caught it, before looking back up at the dancer, wide-eyed. At the sound of their commotion a few other browsers had turned to see what all the fuss was about, and it made Hasun want to melt into the floor. At the maknae’s pleading gaze, Minhui simply rolled his eyes.

“Stop panicking, won’t you? I doubt we were actually going to practise today anyway—Yijunnie fucked off to go see some of his ex-members, and Haeil-hyung was out again last night. But if we get in trouble, then don’t worry,” he threw Hasun an overexaggerated wink, his smirk cat-like and vaguely unsettling. “Hyung will take the fall for you, aegi.”

He shuddered at the term of endearment, and Minhui clearly revelled in his displeased reaction if his responding cackle was anything to go by. Still, Hasun turned the coat around and slowly slid it off its hanger, before tugging it over his shoulders. It felt odd on his bare arms, the interior lining not so much a wild and fluffy affair as it was a silkier and smoother fabric. Minhui cooed again far too loudly when he gave him an indulgent flourish of his arms, tugging his phone out of his back pocket and aiming it straight at him.

“Yah, hyung. I never said you could take pictures.” His complaints were rather unfounded when he wasn’t doing anything to stop him, but he felt he needed to get the message across anyway. Minhui, of course, ignored it.

“You never said I couldn't, either! Do a twirl for us, Hasun-ah.”

Muttering under his breath the whole while, Hasun did as told while the dancer snickered and snapped picture after picture every second of the process. He found he felt less worried about the potential prospect of missing practice the longer he was away from the company building, everything being much easier to forget when it felt like it was just him and Minhui—no managers, no staff, no-one. Just them, the generic pop songs they were playing on the in-store speakers, and a rack of fur coats.

Minhui got bored eventually, after he’d made Hasun try on everything he could find that piqued his interest, and he left the maknae struggling to catch up when he abruptly walked straight back out the entrance to the store in the same manner he’d entered: rushed, in a way, every step almost too quick to catch, but also with purpose, confidence. Like he was the owner of every location the chain belonged to, dropping in for a surprise visit and putting everyone on edge before leaving again.

He hadn’t seemed to have figured out their next stop, as when they were out in the busy Gangnam street again he stopped and turned aimlessly a few times, taking in the abundance of billboards and flashing lights and people everywhere he looked. Hasun took a small step away from him, not exactly wanting to be associated with the pink-haired dancer twirling around on the spot while innocent onlookers were made to be his witnesses, but similarly took a moment to simply stand and stare at the bustling city around him.

It felt like too much—car horns beeping at one another, ten different conversations between twice the amount of people floating into one ear and out the other, glaring LEDs hitting him in the eyes on every building he dared to glance at, and about three different idols staring back at him from their places in bus stop windows or billboard advertisements, holding whatever product they were being sponsored by close to their porcelain faces—but at the same time, it felt just like home. A part of him as much as everything else was, as much as the company was, as much as the group was.

It’d been hard to truly get a grasp on at first, what with the training and the debuting and everything in between that had made his life far too hectic for him to take a minute and really accept where he was and where he wanted to go, but now in the stolen moment of peace—by himself, with Minhui at his side, on what was supposed to be a coffee run, when they had certainly missed whatever practice there may or may not have been by now—he felt he could finally process it all properly. This is where I am. This is where I want to be. I don’t know where to go next, but that doesn’t really matter, because I don’t need to know that right now. Right now, he could just be. He could just sing the lines they gave him, dance the choreography they taught him, and just hope he was doing alright instead of worrying if he was going to be replaced.

A smile grew on his face, quiet but wide. Hasun enjoyed the moment for a second more, another, but it was ripped away from him by a complaining Minhui tugging at his arm, apparently bored with (or had gotten dizzy from) his spinning-around-in-circles gimmick.

“Hasunnie-yah. Let’s go get lunch, hm? I’m starving. It’s all on me, but if you want dessert then it’s gonna have to come out of your own pockets.”

Hasun rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain any further, letting himself be dragged along to whatever eating place Minhui could find and listening to all his tangents and rambles on the way. He didn’t feel all that annoyed at his moment being ruined—in fact, he felt it only would’ve been ruined if Minhui had let him overthink any further. He felt that his acceptance of his place was something that should be processed simply and left at that. This is where I am.

And, as he was taken down winding alleyways and wide open stretches of the high street, surrounded by conversation and lights and life, he didn’t think it was an all-too-terrible place to be.

ఇ⠀JAGUAR BUILDING⠀25TH NOVEMBER,  2021

As soon as Hasun entered the recording room, all eyes swivelled to him. Yijun, Daejin, and Doyeon were the only ones there, but even their three gazes combined made him feel uncomfortable, the back of his neck burning as they just continued to stare. It was only when he was just about to pipe up and ask what was wrong that Daejin sent him a sympathetic smile and turned fully in his chair in front of all the production equipment, pushing his headphones down to rest around his neck.

“Hi, Hasun-ah. I don’t want to be too much of a bother, but.. Do you think you could go find Jaehee?”

The immediate question on the tip of his tongue was why, and Yijun spoke up to answer it without him even needing to say a word. “He threw another tantrum and stormed off. Daejin-hyung wants his part done by tonight, so we don’t have to listen to his shitty vocals any longer than we need to.”

Doyeon clicked his tongue in disapproval at Yijun’s choice of words, but didn’t move to say anything to disprove them. Daejin visibly bit back a smile but shook his head anyway, quashing the grin completely as he looked back to Hasun to hear his answer. The maknae nodded easily enough, and turned to leave—but then stopped abruptly and swung right back around on his heels when he realised he had no idea where the rapper was.

“Where would I find him, hyung?” 

That seemed to draw a blank out of them, both the producer and leader doing nothing but shrugging helplessly. It was Yijun that spoke up again, not looking particularly happy about the answer he had to give.

“Outside. Round the back, near the main road. Tell him to go home if he’s crying though, that sniffling would drive me crazy.”

Doyeon did speak up at that, reaching over from his place settled on Daejin’s tiny leather sofa to whack him lightly on the thigh. “Leave off, Yijun-ah. The only reason he stormed out in the first place was you. As usual.”

The vague directions had only been a half-help, but Hasun was sure he’d find Jaehee if he wandered outside long enough and turned back around, letting the door swing to a close behind him as he navigated back to the elevator. Evening had long since fallen, and he stared out at the city skylights in silence on the way down.

The November air was biting through his thin hoodie, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to be looking for too long as he took the first step outside the company building. Near the main road wasn’t very helpful, seeing as they were near about three, but he diligently fished his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with the flashlight until he had a more reliable source of light that wasn’t the fleeting car headlights passing by every few moments and began his walk, straining to hear anything that wasn’t the skid of wheels on tarmac or distant conversation from the nearby shops and bars and restaurants.

“Jaehee-hyung? Hyung!”

Another harsh gust of wind hit him right in the face, and Hasun was starting to get tired of looking for the rapper already. Maybe he could just say he couldn’t find him, and go back up to Daejin’s nice, warm, recording room. Yijun definitely wouldn’t mind—would probably celebrate, even. Doyeon would just sigh and accept it, and Daejin would wave it off and say it could always be recorded another day. The more he thought about it, the more pleasing of an idea it seemed to become.

“Hasunnie?”

Nevermind. He whipped around, curious as to where the voice had come from. It was definitely Jaehee, but he just couldn’t see him. That was, not until he looked down. Then he found the very person he was looking for crouched down on the gravel with his back against the wall and his phone in hand, open on a contact whose name he couldn’t read that well upside down. Jaehee was quick to shut it off and shove it back in his pocket as soon as he recognised Hasun anyway, standing back up and smiling the same thin smile he always did when everyone else knew that, really, he didn’t feel like smiling at all—the one that was stretched too wide, far too obviously fake for someone who used to be an actor. 

“What’s up? Did you want something?”

Hasun shifted on his feet, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself. “Daejin-hyung wants you back up at the recording room. Says he wants your parts done by tonight.”

The smile almost immediately melted into a scowl, his figure slumping over and head lolling back as he groaned aloud, breath coming out in a visible cloud in the cold air. “No, God no. Not until Yijun-hyung’s gone. If he’s still there I’ll just do it tomorrow.”

The maknae’s brow furrowed, not really wanting to stand out in the cold and listen to the inevitable explanation of their latest fight but hearing the unspoken prod for him to ask about it and doing so anyway.

“What happened now?”

Jaehee slid back down against the wall, phone back in his hands as he passed it from palm to palm like it was a stress toy of sorts, absentmindedly chucking it up into the air and just barely catching it when it fell back down. “He was just—talking shit. As he normally does. I don’t know why it got to me so bad tonight, though, but it just.. Did. I needed a break.”

Hasun nodded empathetically, still hopping from foot to foot. The rapper’s head tilted back to lean against the surface behind him, his face scrunching up, and for a moment Hasun had the panicked thought he was going to cry. He felt out-of-touch and awkward with Jaehee on a normal day, but if he was crying then it would no doubt be thousands of times worse. Thankfully, the rapper only relaxed his face again and sighed, his phone having dropped to the concrete beneath his feet but making no move to pick it up. His next words were quiet, strained, and Hasun had to lean closer for him to be able to hear them at all over all the other noises assaulting his ears.

“I—I don’t really know what we’re all doing this for, to be honest. I don’t even know if we’ll even make it that big in the end.”

His words blew away with the force of the winter wind, but Hasun felt frozen still. He felt like he needed to say something, to attempt to comfort him even if he had the feeling anything he came up with would sound hollow, empty. He thought it over for a few long seconds before clearing his throat, forcing the words out when they felt like they were choking him up.

“It’ll be alright, hyung. We’ll—we’ll get through this.”

Hasun felt cheap, using Doyeon's words to him from four months ago on Jaehee now, but from the way it got his face to finally lighten up again after he let the words sink in for a few moments, got him to pick his phone up from the floor and slowly stand back up to join him in walking back into the company building, he figured they were as much of a comfort to Jaehee as they had been to him. Even if they both knew it was unfounded, standing on shaky legs and likely to crumble with the next disagreement, the next fight, it was good enough for now.

And that, in the moment, was all that mattered.

[gimme-noodles-please]

🇵🇸!!

If you still take requests from For All Time, could I ask for a modern world Cael kiss?

Thank you. Drink water and take care.

idk what to put for title

cael x gn! reader

wc: 800+

content: reader is MC in the game

✨lars route spoiler warning!✨

———————————————

Cael trudged through the snow on his horse with a few rebels keeping a respectable distance away from him. Thankfully today the snowfall was rather light, however as we all know, it would not be in a few days time. The Silver Knight waves a hand at his lackeys, signaling them to stand down as a familiar looking mage on a horse approaches them. The mage got off her horse, stopping in front of him while he too did, carrying a drowsy looking young girl. “As you have requested, Silver Knight.” The mage nods, pushing the girl towards the silver haired man, not caring if she was being too rough. “Please give us some privacy.” Was all he said, clutching onto the shorter girl’s arm. The rebels nodded and returned back to their respective routes.

At last, Cael was finally alone with you. “W-what is the meaning of all these?” You hear yourself say, your voice sounding a little croaky for being unconscious for so long. He cracked a slight smile, as if trying to reassure you. This will be the last time he will try. After all, time and time again he has attempted to bring you back to your original world, only to end up having time looping again. Was this the work of destiny? But he made a promise; he will keep you safe, let you grow up as a normal girl amongst others, away from all the mess he is involved in; it is his duty after all. Just one last try, was what he told himself. He had researched ways to counter this and foolishly stumbled across some fairytales you had read when you were much younger, always involving the story being resolved by a simple true love’s kiss. Maybe it could be the key to succeeding this time? It does not hurt to try.

He flashed a warm gaze at you, almost parental, one that you know too well from years of growing up under his care. “Y/n, listen to me. Once you get back, forget about everything that has happened here. It is for your own good.” Of course you weren’t dumb, his sweet sounding words did not convince you as you struggled in his hold. “No! Cael, I have to help them. I can’t just let innocent people die!” His hand tightened around your wrist in warning to shut up, making you wince in pain. You have never once seen him like this, a complete contrast to the gentle guardian you’ve always known. It scared you a little but you knew he would never harm you. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled under his breath, barely heard. The next action he did was so fast you had barely any time to react as he pulled you into a kiss. Hurriedly pressing his lips against yours while keeping an arm around you to pull you closer to him, as well as to keep you from running away.

Before you could recover from your surprise, he has managed to teleport you back to your own world…

-///-

You slowly opened your eyes, finding yourself facing the all too familiar ceiling. What happened? Why does your head hurt so much? All you could remember was the competition and subsequently passing out after running onto the stage… then what happens next? A light knock resounds from the door before it is gently pushed open, a soft creak echoing throughout the quiet room. “I made you some tea. Maybe it could make you feel a little better.” Cael gently said as he sets down the cup onto your nightstand as he sits down next to your bed. You push yourself up to sit upright, biting your bottom lip. Something was wrong, but what? You can’t help but feel something bugging at you, like you are forgetting something very important. Cael seems to have noticed your worried expression and takes your hands in his. “Y/n, are you feeling alright?” You kept your eye line down, not daring to make any contact with him. Why? Why are you suddenly feeling so uncomfortable with him? These strange feelings that were surfacing were confusing you. “Look at me, darling.” His, surprisingly, cold hand cupped your cheek to direct your gaze towards him. “I am here. I will always be here for you when you need me, okay?” All you could do was nod, still unable to rid that horrible feeling inside of you.

“May I?” He asked, his voice becoming softer than before as his thumb carefully brushed against your bottom lip. You slowly nodded and that was all the consent he needed before his lips connected with yours. The kiss was soft and gentle, slow and loving, just like the Cael you had always known.

Cael had no idea why he took the initiative to do this, perhaps it is his way of making it up to you even though you can’t remember it, he was far too rough for his first kiss with you.

But alas, the world around Cael warps again, making him groan inwardly. His plan has failed once again

—————————————

a/n: i honestly dk what to write for this so JDKSJW

[blurblurdeactivated]

▬❝ wash away our sins. ❞

kinktober; day 3, shower sex ⟶ [billy russo x fem!reader] // kinktober taglist

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit content obvi, swearing, p in v sex, cum, idk kinda sweet for a billy fic lmao

day 2, thigh riding, ft. matt murdock - kinktober masterlist - day 4, daddy kink, ft. soldier boy

He was softer like this. Hair stuck to his forehead in imperfect strips, eyes shut tight, jaw clenching and un-clenching as he groaned and grunted un-caringly. With a hand gripping the underneath of each of your thighs, Billy held you firmly up, legs parted, as he fucked into you leisurely. There was no urgency in his movements, no need to hurry, or desperation that hinted at the fear of losing you if he didn't take anything from you as fast as possible. Your back was pressed into the cool tile of your shower and the water ran down Billy's back, hitting him from the side. 

One hand holding onto the showerhead's stand for support, the other digging into Billy's shoulder, you let your head fall back against the wall. He kissed your jaw and bent his head to suck water off your clavicle. He drew his hips back lazily before slamming them back into yours, creating that delicious drag of his thick, hard length in your cunt. The repeated motion gradually bringing you to your end.

"Oh, Billy," you moaned, eyes rolling back into your head as he hit that particularly welcome spot inside of you. God, he was so fucking deep.

Letting go of the showerhead, you reached up into his hair and pulled - without any real force. His head fell back and he hissed. That gave you a new opportunity to kiss and suck and bite at his neck which you did eagerly. You felt his hips stutter and smiled into his neck blissfully. 

Hoisting you up the wall a bit further, Billy removed one of his hands from your thigh and reached between the two of you to slide down to your clit. You gasped at the contact and felt yourself clench down on his dick in response.

"Fuck, baby." He sounded so gone it was going straight to your pussy. "You feel so good."

"Jesus, Billy," you groaned as his long thumb applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit, rubbing quick, expert circles against you.

"Cum, baby, cum on my dick." 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you choked out as you came. It wasn't a huge burst of fireworks or a cataclysmic event inside you, instead it felt like giving into a moving body of water that made your toes curl and you bite into your bottom lip with a moan.

A couple of sloppy thrust later, Billy pulled out completely and shot his load onto your bare stomach. The sinful growl he let out made your pussy ache for him again.

Slowly, he lowered you to your feet, careful to keep you upright as your knees threatened to give way. He reached up to grab the showerhead and detached it from its stand. Bringing it down your body, he washed his cum off your skin, moving it around to clean you off completely. You squirmed as the streams of water hit your sensitive skin. 

Once he's returned the showerhead to it's spot, you ran your hands across his chest and up his neck. He began to draw circles onto the backs of your thighs, where you'd undoubtedly have fingertip shaped bruises later.

"Can I wash your hair?" you asked softly, fingers scratching his hair.

"Anytime, baby."

⭑ ⟵ ★ ⟶ ⭑

follow @viridiesa for more <3

a/n: billy does things to me and once october is over i am going to bring some much needed billy being a fucking psycho thank you xx (not edited)

if you liked this please comment, reblog, or follow for more! my inbox is always open for suggestions, your thoughts, or if you just wanna talk :)) can’t wait for you to read more in future

[cantsaythetword]

Hi! Idk if your still doing fics but can you do a stucky tickle fic about Steve being grumpy and bucky cheering him up and then Steve tickled bucky for revenge and Peter is just watching the whole thing? Thank you so much if you do!

Hi! Sorry this took so long to get to! Love me a good stucky prompt hehehe :D Thanks for being patient for it, hope the fic is alright!!

Every Hero has an Achilles Heel

~A/N  - I'll be honest, this fic is a litttttle self-indulgent cause it's based off of a super lee-ass thought my brain came up with so enjoy my delirious inventions of an exhausted crow.

As usual, this fic is set pre - Infinity War/Endgame cause otherwise characters are missing etc. so it's very early Peter Parker :)

A very cute prompt from w1nt37 coming right up!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @mysterious-marvel

Masterpost Link 

"Mr Barnes?"

A small voice broke Bucky out of his concentrated state. He had been working on upgrading his arm for who knows how long at this point, and to be honest he probably needed a break.

Bucky turned towards the voice - Peter's, of course - and gave him a smile. "Hey kid, what's up?"

Peter let out the breath he had been holding since asking for Bucky's attention. "It's Mr Rogers, he seems a bit… annoyed? Or upset, maybe…"

Bucky nodded, offering the reassurance and encouragement that Peter obviously needed. God, it seemed like no matter how many missions the kid did with them he would never relax.

"And I just thought… I figured you were probably the best person to tell… to see if you could help?"

"Yeah of course." Bucky grinned as he stood from his workbench and started walking towards the door. "I've handled a cranky Steve before I know just what'll fix him."

Peter half-jogged through the halls to keep himself beside Bucky. "I didn't mean he was grumpy, like he didn't do anything bad or anything I jus-"

"Relax, kid." Bucky chuckled. "Whatever Steve's feeling, I'll sort it."

The pair entered the main living room, finding Steve sitting on a barstool hunched over the bench. His eyes were closed, but it was obvious he wasn't sleeping.

"Hey punk." Bucky taunted playfully. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Steve said, feinting honesty but his tone was too flat to pull it off.

Bucky flopped down into a stool next to his friend, leaning an elbow on the countertop. "You know, I remember a stretching routine that used to fix you up every time you felt grumpy."

Steve let out an amused huff. "Really Buck? Yoga?"

"What?" Bucky grinned. "Old people love yoga, don't knock it 'til you try it Grandpa."

That got a legitimate chuckle from Steve. "Wow, your way to cheer me up is through insults?"

"It'll have to be unless you stand up."

With a roll of his eyes, Steve pushed off the stool and took a few steps back for space. "Better?"

Bucky nodded, "it'll do," before standing up himself and moving next to his friend. "Now, raise your arms straight out in front of you, as far as they go."

As Steve followed the instruction, Bucky flashed a wink at Peter (who had been half-hiding in the corner of the room for the whole exchange).

"Now," Bucky continued, "move your hands out to either side, keeping your arms nice and straight."

"Bucky this is stupid, I'm-"

"Nononono you're almost done I swear!" Bucky interjected, not allowing Steve to finsh his complaint. "Put your hands on your head and try to pull your elbows back so they touch."

As Steve did this, Bucky slowly crept behind the ex-soldier - hands already in a claw shape.

"You know Buck, this actually does streEHETCH NO BUCKY!" Steve tried to say before interrupting himself with a shriek.

Bucky had wrapped his arms around his friend in an inescapable tickle-hug. His hands free to claw and vibrate up and down Steve's ribcage while his arms did the hard work of keeping the now-collapsed supersoldier somewhat upright.

Poor Steve's knees had buckled the second Bucky's fingers made contact, and he had immediately curled in on himself like an armadillo to try and protect his poor ribs.

But his attacker had almost limitess access to any and all of the sensitive spots on the sides of his body, and Bucky defintely had plans to use them all. As Bucky worked his left hand up into Steve's armpit, and his right down to Steve's hip bone, Peter couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

"Captain America's ticklish?" He giggled out.

'NOHOHO!" Steve squealed in response.

It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes. "In case you could't tell, Steve's lying through his teeth."

Peter nodded with a laugh.

"YEAH WEHEHELL-" Steve spluttered out through desperate shrieks. "YOU KNOHOHOW- YOU KNOW WHOHOHO EHEHEHE- BUHUCKY PLEHEHEASE!"

"Take your time buddy." Bucky teased, continuing his ruthless attack on Steve's nervous system.

"BUHUCKY'S TIHICKLISH TOHOHOO!!"

"Don't you dare." Bucky froze for a moment.

Bad move.

Taking his opportunity without a second thought, Steve twisted out of Bucky's grasp and shoved his hands under Bucky's arms. Bucky absolutely squealed as cackles bubbled out of his mouth.

Peter stared, mouth agape in shock.

"STEHEHEVE WAHAHAIT!" Bucky begged as he was hoisted over Cap's shoulder, the backs of his thighs being ruthlessly squeezed.

"Looks like I'm not the only ticklish supersoldier around here." Steve grinned, practically throwing Bucky onto the couch next to Peter and letting his fingers skitter along Bucky's collarbones.

"STOHOP IT YOU JEHERK!"

Peter laughed. "Is every super hero ticklish?"

Steve paused for a minute to let Bucky catch his breath. "It seems like it." He said with a small laugh.

Bucky grinned from under his friend. "But we could always check…"

It only took the pair exchanging a playful glance for Peter to put two and two together. Unfortunately, Peter barely had time to squeal before the two super soldiers tackled him.

The poor kid was screwed before he even hit the floor.

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Fic prompt: Hampton’s pillow talk “tell me a secret” (maybe something that is/could be canon, like about how she came back out of her room in 3x22 or couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss in 3x13 or how he’s the reason she broke up with Josh or started dating him at all or just idk you pick 🤣)

The Secret

The sun had set on their weekend getaway. First thing in the morning, they would pack their belongings into the car and drive back to the city, back to reality, back into hiding.

He regretted that he wasted so much time, allowed himself to get caught up in the murder, allowed himself to be distracted from giving her all of his attention.

It wasn't a bad way to spend the weekend: doing what you love with the person you love. But, still, he had spent the evening doing everything he could to make it up to her.

Again. And again. And again. He worshipped her like the Goddess she is, until neither one of them had the energy to keep going.

Her head rested on his chest, listening to his heart beating contentedly as he ran his fingers through her hair. She ran her fingernails up and down his bare chest, smiling as his skin prickled in reaction to the gentle graze, goosebumps freckling his entire body.

"Hey," his voice pulled her from the alluring haze of sleepiness.

She shifted, tilting her head up so that she could look him in the eye.

"Hey," she mumbled with a sleepy smile.

He rolled toward her slightly, pressing a kiss to her lips.
"What's on your mind?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

An obvious lie, but she didn't want to tell him that in their post love-making haze she was thinking about Josh.

Sure, she was thinking about how big of a mistake she had made, but still...

"Come on, unburden yourself. Tell me all your secrets," he joked.

She propped herself up on her elbow, resting her temple on the ball of her palm.

"Okay," she relented, taking a deep breath. "My secret is that I really wanted to say yes when you asked me to join you here for Memorial Day weekend two Summers ago."

"Oh, I know." He laughed, feeling rather confident.

She smiled, shaking her head. "No, you don't."

"I saw the look on your face when Gina showed up," he explained. "You were pissed that I asked someone else."

"Well, yeah!" she defended. "I had literally just ended things with Tom so that I could take you up on your offer."

He sat upright, twisting his body so that he was still facing her. "Wait, what?"

"I told you; I wanted to say yes. I wanted to be here with you. I wanted to be with you." Her eyes dropped to the crumpled sheets. "I even convinced myself that you and Gina would have a horrible weekend and you'd find some excuse to come back to the city early. But then you didn't call..."

He sighed, realising where she was going with this. "And you met Josh." he finished her thought for her.

Mistakes; they were both guilty of making them.

But here they were, together at last, and stronger for it.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked after some time.

"Of course."

He leant forward, tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I'm going to marry you one day," he whispered before kissing her.

[otter-pup]

idk if this is weird but like,,, i think a lot abt. being pregnant. and showing! and walking through some crowded public place, a mall or down a busy sidewalk, and eventually someone stops me

"oh, wow! how far along are you? are they kicking? can i feel?"

and then their hands are on my belly, warm and roaming, and the baby (maybe even a whole litter) responds by kicking, and the combination feels so good but all i can do is bite my lip and keep quiet- i don't want to be weird and cause a scene

but soon i'm made into a sort of spectacle, more and more people stop until there's a small crowd around me, all of them oohing and ahhing, groping up my round stomach while by baby squirms in my womb. i cant help how good it feels, i start panting a bit, making small noises, but no one seems to react

when there's so many hands on my stomach that there's little room for anyone else's, the hands wander. rubbing my arms, intertwining their fingers with mine, groping my thighs, massaging my breasts and telling me how well i'm filling out, how pretty i look like this, like i was made to be bred, and it's too much, it's too much-

between the writhing against my cervix and getting groped by strangers in public, it's just too much, and i cum, sobbing brokenly and struggling to stay upright. but instead of disgust, the crowd reacts so soothingly, so supportive, a mix of comfort and encouragement, even holding me up and helping to keep me from falling to my knees, "aw, there's a good boy..."

"look how cute he is when he cums!"

"shh, shh, we've got you. just let it out for us."

"the noises he makes are so sweet!"

and before i know it, fingers and hands are finding their way to my cunt ready to make me fall apart again...

it is NOT weird I think public appreciation bordering free use is actually fairly common within preg kink! and for good reason bc this is so fucking hot???

i don’t have much to add beyond like. imagining another boy (perhaps myself) witnessing it and not wanting to admit how much it turns him on, but his partner (or maybe just some random person) walks up to him and puts a hand on his belly, too, suggesting that he’d probably get the same attention if he spreads his legs and lets someone fill up his womb the same way, while he watches you cum and get praised by everyone around you

[mushiimune]

idk if ur taking writing requests but can you do a (canon era) javid fic where David has a nightmare and Jack has to calm him down (I've seen a ton of the reverse but i like this concept a bit better)

Ty!

I love that idea! Here's a little something– hope ya enjoy.

AO3

- - - - -

Jack was sleeping on the floor. He found that arrangement more agreeable than taking up part of David’s bed, crowded enough as it was with just one person sleeping in it. Not to mention that summer nights were long and hot. Being squashed together wouldn’t do either of them any favors in the heat that was settled over the city.

Suddenly David sat bolt upright in bed, startling Jack.

“Dave?” He said cautiously.

David blinked rapidly and looked down at him, before ducking away and rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes.

Alarmed, Jack pushed himself up, kneeling next to the mattress. “Hey, what’s the matter? You all right?”

“Yeah. Sorry. It was just a bad dream,” David said in a small voice. Jack couldn’t tell if he was being quiet because he didn’t want to wake up his sister, who was silent just beyond the curtain drawn through the center of the room, or because if he spoke any louder his voice would break. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jack crossed his arms over the mattress and rested his chin on them.

“I wasn’t exactly sleepin’ anyway, Dave, so don’t worry about wakin’ me up.”

David’s eyes were slate gray in the moonlight, faintly coming through the curtains down by the foot of his bed. The unease fell off his face, confusion creeping in its place.

“You weren’t sleeping? Why?” Before Jack got a chance to answer, David kept talking. “Is the floor too uncomfortable?”

“The floor’s fine, Dave. I just ain’t all that tired. Anyway, this ain’t about me.”

David frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not about me, either, because I’m fine. It was just a stupid nightmare.”

In truth, Dave was shaken and his heart was still pounding in his ears. For whatever reason, listening to Jack’s voice was soothing the tremor in his hands.

“Sometimes, y’know… talkin’ about your dreams helps you forget ‘em sooner,” Jack said, trying to be helpful, and not just because of how curious he was about what lay unseen in David’s subconscious.

“Really?” David tucked his knees into his chest. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear it, I learned it. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, it was just a suggestion. We could always just try goin’ back to sleep.”

“You just said you weren’t sleeping,” David pointed out. “And I don’t plan on getting back to it anytime soon myself. Which puts us in the same boat, doesn’t it?”

Jack grinned. “I guess it does.”

Jack picked the pillow he’d been using off the floor and joined David on the bed, sitting with his back against the wall. David mirrored his position, pulling the quilt with him and covering both of them with it. The mattress was still warm where David had been laid out before.

“I don’t even remember what it was about,” David confessed while Jack made himself comfortable. “But for some reason I still feel like I do. My heart’s racing but there’s nothing to be scared about anymore.”

“Was I there?” Jack teased, bumping their shoulders together.

David chuckled. “I think you might have been, briefly.”

“Yeah?”

“And so was the rest of my family.”

Jack’s smile fell. He tried not to think too hard about how David just indirectly called him family. Maybe Jack was the one in the wrong for needing a reminder that David thought of him that way. Suddenly he felt light and dizzy, pursing his lips into a thin line to keep from making a face that would give him away.

“Somewhere down the line there was a boat involved. And a fire, and I guess… I don’t know. I wasn’t on the boat, but you were. It caught on fire.” David looked away, like he was recalling a real tragedy. “The story tells itself.”

Jack nodded sagely. He didn’t know whether to be interested that David was starting to think about him in his sleep, or worried that the thinking David was doing consisted of losing him in a boat fire.

“That sounds rough, Dave. But you don’t hafta worry about that happenin’ for real. I’d just jump in the water if my boat ever caught on fire, and I’d make sure your family would, too.”

“Jack… the suction of the boat sinking would drag you down, if the temperature of the water doesn’t get to you first.”

“Now the boat’s sinkin’? I thought it was on fire.”

“The fire would burn holes into the side.” David sighed. “This isn’t helping at all.”

Jack looped an arm around David’s neck. “Sorry, Dave. Maybe we should just talk about somethin’ else. Try not to think about that lousy boat anymore.”

“It’s not about the boat though, Jack. It’s more about who was on it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just sayin’ there ain’t much use in overthinkin’ it now when it weren’t real to begin with.”

David fidgeted. Jack figured he was most likely imagining the way David seemed to lean into him a little more.

“I guess… I guess you’re right. It’s just–” David paused, fishing for words that weren’t coming easily for once.

Jack took over, “Hard to tell apart what’s real and what ain’t.”

David blinked, a wordless gesture for him to elaborate.

“Sometimes it’s like that when you’re scared.” Jack stared darkly at the curtain opposite.

Putting a voice to old memories was something he had never done sober, and certainly not to David. But Dave was jumpy, wide-eyed and warm. Sparing him a glance he reminded Jack faintly of Les. And if it were Les under his arm right now instead of David, the least Jack could do was try and calm him down. But David wasn’t under the illusion that Jack was a martyr or a cowboy, so it was much harder to look him in the eye while he spoke.

“Dreams can feel like a whole lot more than just dreams. And they can be hard to get outta your system,” Jack continued. “But you gotta try and remember that this is what’s real. And – everything’s okay.”

Jack gave David’s shoulders a squeeze. David nodded and took an unsteady breath. He sat a little straighter when he exhaled.

“You’re right. Yeah,” David said with as much conviction as he could muster. “Everything’s okay.”

The tension had gone. Relieved, Jack gave a low whistle, still mindful of the time. “The Walkin’ Mouth just told me I’m right about somethin’.”

“Shut up,” David snickered. He leaned his head back against the wall and Jack’s shoulder, closing his eyes. “It’s a nice thing to be right about. You should be flattered.”

“Oh, believe me, I am.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. Which was fine by Jack, even though he was hoping to actually talk to David for a while, instead of having David fall asleep on him. Of course David was tired. Jack guessed he probably didn’t do a lot of intermittent panicking throughout the night like himself. He went to sleep at a reasonable hour and made his bed every morning so nobody else would have to do it for him.

“You’re a good guy, Davey,” Jack told him quietly. He didn’t know what possessed him to say it aloud. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

To that, David didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. Jack leaned his head over David’s, letting his eyes fall shut as well.

[los-ninos-tortugas]

Wait hang on I’m having soft feelings about Janeway bringing Donnie to the holodeck and showing him the Da Vinci simulation.

Idk how exactly they get there, maybe it’s becoming a bit more obvious that Donnie is getting restless, maybe he’s been spotted messing around in engineering or the jeffries tubes more than he’s strictly allowed to be, maybe he’s just been a bit more irritable with people around the ship, or maybe it’s because Janeway heard him in the mess hall complaining that a lot of the “kids” programs they have queued up on the holodeck currently steer a lot younger than he is.

(hey, he’ll gladly go with Naomi if she asks him to, but sometimes he wants something to do in there but whenever he looks at the program catalog he gets overwhelmed by the sheer number of options and can’t pick anything)

And Janeway can’t help but recall an encounter with a young, future helmsman (that either he doesn’t remember or just doesn’t want to admit he does) that helped keep a lid on the potential chaos that a very bored young man can get up to. And it’s no secret that Donatello’s interests skewed toward more cerebral subjects. She has the perfect program to show him.

Sam is a little surprised when the captain arrives at their quarters, but not so much. It’s sometime in the midafternoon by the ship’s internal clocks, and Voyager hasn’t had much need for extra repairs or maintenance lately, so there’s a bit of lull in crew activity right about now. There’s less that the captain needs to actively keep a watch over so long as Tom doesn’t fly them into some other anomaly this week.

And when Naomi was younger it wasn’t so uncommon that the captain would stop by to play with her or just check in on how Sam was doing. She cared about her crew like that. But she didn’t come quite as often as late, but Sam has a suspicion that her new ward is probably the reason for this impromptu visit.

“Is Donatello here with you right now?” Ah, she knew it.

“He’s back in his and Naomi’s room,” she said as she stepped aside to let the captain in.

“Do you mind if I borrow him for a little while?” Janeway asked.

“Not at all,” Sam replied. “Just let me tell him you’re coming in, I think he might be taking apart and rebuilding another data pad in there.” And Sam walked into the back of the quarters to retrieve Donnie.

At least he puts the data pads back together, Kathryn thought. Still wish I’d thought of this sooner, though.

Sam came back out a moment later, and with a mouthed “ok,” waved Kathryn into the kids’ room.

Donatello sat in the desk chair, he rapped his knuckles agains his knees. He made a slightly humorous image, sat in a chair that was just slightly too small to accommodate his height and gangly teenage limbs. It was originally just Naomi’s desk and chair after all, but now the two had to share.

Naomi herself was currently nowhere to be seen, but that probably meant she was either with Neelix or Seven of Nine.

“Hi, captain,” Donatello said meekly. It pains Kathryn that he’s still so nervous around her, but hopefully today she can fix that.

“Good afternoon, Donatello,” she greeted warmly. “Are you doing alright today?”

“I’m, uhhh….” He glanced furtively at the remains of the data pad on the desk, she wasn’t quite sure if he was in the taking apart or putting back together stage. “I’m doing okay today,” he started to tug at his sleeves. He pulled them over his hands and rolled them back again.

“Well I’m glad to hear that, because if you don’t mind coming with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.” She let fondness deep into her tone, she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and think he was in trouble.

“Ooookay?” He raised one drawn-on-eyebrow (okay she can’t help but think that is actually a bit funny, what a peculiar habit to have. But it does make him easier to read).

She offers him her hand and helps pull him upright out of the too short chair. They wave goodbye to Samantha on their way out, and Kathryn starts leading Donatello towards the holodeck.

They walk in (what Kathryn hopes is) companionable silence. All that is heard is the barely audible swoosh swoosh of Donatello's pants and the clicking of her boots down the hall.

Upon arrival to the holodeck, Donatello once again raises his brow in mild curiosity. "Captain, no offense, but I've been to the holodeck before."

She chuckles, "Yes, I am aware of that, Donatello," she says good-naturedly. "I am also aware that most boys your age have well outgrown The Adventures of Flotter at this point, yes?"

Donnie shrugs noncommitally. He had never grown up with those stories to begin with, but he's not about to argue semantics right now. "I suppose," he finally said. "Naomi likes them, and I like Naomi, so...."

She chuckles again, and leans against the wall casually like she isn't both the coolest and most intimidating person Donnie has ever met. And he knows April O'Neil, so that's saying something.

"I suppose that's fair, but still, it can't hurt to branch out," Captain Janeway's face took on a more sober expression, and Donnie started to fidget with his sleeves again. "There's a place I like to go to when I'm feeling particularly stressed, or stuck on a problem, or too bogged down in my own thoughts.

Now, I think what you're dealing with is a little bit different, but I still think that this might help, and I want you to feel free to come here whenever you need to. Computer, load holodeck program "Janeway 7."

The computer responded with a chime and the archway opened. Captain Janeway waved him inside.

Donnie isn't sure what he expected, but he doesn't think it was this. There's a pleasant warmth in the air as (artificial) sunlight filters in through open windows, illuminating a stone room that seems to be some sort of workshop of all things. That is, if all the tools, design sketches, and half built inventions laying about are any indication. But amongst the various engineering projects there's also a myriad of half completed sculptures, drawings, and paintings strewn all throughout the shop in a sort of organized chaos.

Donnie steps through the workspace carefully, looking over everything as he goes. In the back of his mind he remembers that none of it is real. It's all a holographic hard light projection, but it's a very detailed one. He can't help but be fascinated. He's so enthralled that he starts when a deep, boisterous voice suddenly shouts,

"Katerina!"

Donnie looks up to see a white-bearded man descending the stairs of the workshop, a big grin splashed across his face.

"Katerina, it has been too long! Too long since you last visited me," the old man said. He had a thick Italian accent. "You know, I almost considered finally going off to France for good this time. The King has been sending me letters non-stop, begging me to come to court." The old man had been so focused on Captain Janeway, that it took a moment for his eyes to actually alight on Donnie.

"Ah, I see you have brought another strange friend with you, is he another "Scandinavian" like your friend, Tuvok, or does this young man hail from some other foreign shore?" He asked, looking Donnie up and down with an appraising eye.

"Maestro," Captain Janeway starts, "This is Donatello, he... has recently come to be under my care, he is also a student of the sciences." Bit of an understatement but Donnie will take it. If the Captain takes this holodeck character to be some sort of mentor figure, then he must be pretty impressive himself.

"Ah, well then it is very good to meet you, Donatello," the old man says jovially.

"It's nice to meet you too, Maestro...?" Donnie trails off.

"Ah! Of course, I have forgotten my hospitality. You may call Leonardo da Vinci."

Next ->

[strigops]

been thinking a lot abt how much i love nona and alecto as so clearly non-human but still having a sense of.. idk the best way to put it is humanity, no matter how contradictory that feels lmao. but i really keep going back to thinking about how clearly and strongly they both FEEL non-human. alecto obviously goes on and on about how horrible the body john made for her is, but this particular complaint jumped out at me immediately:

nose too short, ears too brief, that paired with the occasional complaints nona has about her body such as “Nona hated having hands” (absolute reddest flag that That’s Not A Human i have ever seen i screamed when i read that),

and im pretty sure making a remark about not liking to walk upright at some point (could be remembering that one wrong) and like….. what does she see as the right body? are those last two just her being a planet with no body to speak of and the ears and nose an issue with john making her an idealized version of a human, or does she see herself as some kind of earth animal? maybe as several of them? what earth critter does she draw in this scene, and was it perhaps how she sees herself, or an animal she feels represents her? i have stared at this for 8 hrs trying to figure out what she drew, is it a manatee or some other aquatic mammal?? something else from the ocean, her home??? talking about vertebrates moving on to land????

does she even see herself as any one thing at all, or a hodgepodge of all the things shes been home to and loved? we’ll probably never know and it ultimately doesn’t matter but i want to know who she is So Badly

also, this is likely unrelated and could be a very old cow joke (esp considering cannan house is probably built on the old cow wall base) but we still don’t know what animal is on the doors in canaan house:

like those are probably snakes, but what is the skull??

[subskz]

speaking of that skz code episode imagine going w the scaredy cats and they just cling onto you so cutely sobssss I imagine that's the same mf tight grip they have on you when you plow their brains out so they hold onto you for dear life to ground themselves <3 heehee

imagine letting them do like the idk you leaning on the sink and they thrust into you from behind (not in a sub way bc ew imagine being a sub smh my head /lh) and they have to wrap their arms around your body, holding on so tightly so cutely heehee clingy cuties who need to feel your skin underneath their hands and be comforted by your presence while their legs shake heehee <3

maybe.... maybe I just want to be hugged.... channie and binnie squish my body in between yours as tightly as you can yes yes a 5h hug JUICE HEY YO

pleaseee this is making my heart do kickflips you know how much that touchy needy clinginess gets me so much…channie get over here right now 😓🙏

them just being so desperate to feel every part of you that they fold over on top of you…burying their nose in your shoulder and holding on to you so tight that they have trouble moving properly <3 their iron grip on you is the only thing keeping them upright hehe chan n binnie’s arms are so big and beefy bc they were made for hugging 💗

[harrylovex]

SAFE WITH YOU

summary: you get followed home after a party and eddie’s house is the first place you think of

warnings: idk, a group of boys follow reader home and grab her arm, catcall, things like that. apart from that just soft!eddie and lots of fluff

note: i find it really hard to capture eddie’s personality when he speaks 😭😭😭 i’m working on it i promise

you started feeling a little dizzy after your third drink. you didn’t even know what you were drinking, some blue liquid that robin had shoved into your hand.

speaking of robin…where the hell was she?

she had disappeared on you about 30 minutes ago, but with the amount of alcohol in your system right now, you couldn’t seem to care too much.

squinting into the distance, you saw nancy and steve standing closely together by a tree, red cups in hand.

you stumbled over to them, spilling your drink halfway down your top in the process.

“y/n? we’ve been looking all over for you!” steve grabbed your arm, keeping you upright.

“really!!” you shouted. “come on, nance, let’s dance!” you giggled, turning to the makeshift dancefloor around the bonfire.

“uhh-“ nancy pulled your wrist. “y/n, me and steve are leaving. you should too. it’s 2am.”

what??! jesus christ you were sure that it was only midnight two minutes ago.

steve and nancy stood staring at you, waiting for an andwer.

“nooooo” you pouted. “please, dance with me?”

“sorry y/n. it’s late. you should walk home with us.”

“ugh. whatever.” you walked away, hearing them call your name in the distance. you didn’t pay any attention.

looking back now, you were so fucking stupid for not going with them, you were never drinking again.

you danced by yourself instead, and you didn’t see steve or nancy again. not even robin.

by 3am, most people had gone home. you had sobered up a little and gained back some common sense. you really should go home.

you made your way to the main road, it was quicker that way.

you began to walk on the side of the road, realising quickly how quiet and cold it was. your feet dragged as you shivered - fuck, why didn’t you bring a jacket?

within a few minutes, you heard a group of boys behind you. you looked back - there were around four of them, you didn’t know who they were.

they were stumbling on the pavement - obviously drunk. they were shouting too, the noise making you flinch as they came closer.

you picked up your pace a little, trying to shake off the rest of the alcohol. you covered yourself with your arms, hoping they hadn’t noticed you. oh how wrong you were.

“hey, darlin’! where ya’ going?”

oh god - they noticed you. in fact, you could hear them behind you, snickering. how did they get so close so quickly?

your brain was telling you to look behind you, but you couldn’t, fear trapping you in a loop of one foot in front of the other.

it wasn’t until one of the men grabbed your arm that you reacted.

“stop, please.” it sounded like a whisper coming out of your mouth. you backed away.

“hey, pretty girl. wanna come party with us?”

ugh. the pet name made your skin crawl.

“no. i-uh…”

god dammit, why couldn’t you stand up for yourself?

one of them pushed a beer bottle into your face. “come on, don’t be scared darlin’…drink with us. a pretty lady like you shouldn’t be alone at night.”

he stepped forward suddenly and you stumbled back, falling back onto the ground.

your hands hit the ground forcefully and you winced in pain, pulling your skirt down as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

the men laughed, the evil sound digging it’s way into your brain. you scrambled to stand up, turning and running as fast as you could, dirt and mud all over your clothes.

you could hear them cat-calling behind you, and you prayed to god that they weren’t following you.

you could hardly see through your tear-filled eyes, but you recognised the trailer park on your right.

eddie.

the perfect person you needed right now. he would know what to do.

you half-ran, half-stumbled your way to his trailer, hoping you could remember which one was his.

you banged on his door, wiping the tears from your face as you straightened your clothes. you only just realised the cuts on your hands, bloody scabs already forming on your palms.

you kept looking behind you, feeling paranoid as you waited for eddie.

eddie woke to you furiously knocking on his door, the entire trailer shaking with the force of it.

he jumped up startled, maybe it was the neighbours coming to complain again, he thought.

he rubbed his eyes, trying to balance himself after he had stood up to quickly.

finally, eddie opened the door, his expression changing in an instant.

“y/n?”

god it was good to see him.

you stepped closer. “eddie, i-uh-i was at a party and, a-and-“. you couldn’t carry on, tears brimming at your eyes again.

“woah-“ he stepped down to your level, wrapping his arm around your side. he caught you just in time as you fell into him, your body collapsing.

he pulled you into his lounge, making his way towards the couch. you welcomed the warm air, clutching onto eddie’s t-shirt with grubby hands.

“it’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart, i’m here.” he sat down, pulling you onto his lap sideways.

you hid your face in his neck, silently crying onto his t-shirt. eddie was curious as to what had happened with you but for now, he was more than happy to comfort you in the dark like this.

after a while, your breathing slowed and you felt ready to talk about what had happened.

you lifted your head up, sniffling quietly. eddie cupped your face with his hands, the cold rings a contrast to your hot, teary face.

“you wanna talk about it?” eddie asked.

you nodded, shifting until you were sat up a little straighter. “i went to a party a-and got a bit drunk.” you spoke slowly, “everyone had left so i was walking home and these boys - they, they started following me.”

you felt eddie’s body tense beneath you.

“one of them grabbed my arm, they were saying stupid shit and i fell over and i just - i just started running.”

eddie clenched his fists, thinking about how scared and alone you were out there in the woods.

“holy shit. do you know them? are they from school?”

“n-no, i don’t know. i’ve never seen them before.”

talking about it again made you shiver, tucking yourself back in against eddie. you realised then that you were still wearing dirt-covered clothes, eddie seemed to notice.

“how about we get those hands cleaned up hmm? and a change of clothes?”

you nodded, climbing off eddie’s lap.

suddenly, something hit the roof of eddie’s trailer, startling you. you gasped, grabbing onto eddie’s forearm.

“don’t worry, it’s just a twig. they fall from the trees and hit the roof sometimes when it’s windy.”

you attempted to smile, releasing his arm from the death grip you had on it. “sorry.”

eddie chuckled, entwining your fingers with his. “don’t apologise.”

he sat you down in the bathroom, pulling a few essentials from the cupboard.

“this is gonna sting a little.” he held your hand out flat, cleaning your wounds with disinfectant on cotton wool.

you flinched at the pain, shutting your eyes.

“sorry, sweetheart.” eddie frowned, he didn’t like seeing you like this. he was used to your usual smiley, bubbly self in school.

eddie finished as quickly as possible, wrapping your palms in clean bandages. “anywhere else that needs mending?” he inspected the rest of your body, tickling behind your knees and across your collarbones.

you burst out laughing, pushing his arms away.

“there’s that smile i love so much.” he pressed a soft kiss to your palms.

“thank you, doctor.” you giggled.

“you can sleep here tonight.“ he scratched the back of his neck. “it’s nearly 4am.”

as soon as he said that, you realised how exhausted you were, the events of the night had worn you out mentally and physically.

“where’s your uncle?” you wondered.

“um, he’s at work. it’s just us.”

you giggled to break the awkward silence. you noticed then your face in the mirror, black streaks of makeup all down your face from crying.

“oh my god, i look a mess. eddie, do you have any makeup remover?”

“uhh, not really something i put on the grocery list, love.”

you laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“hang on, i might be able to find a flannel somewhere.”

you washed up, brushing your teeth with one of eddie’s spare ones. he gave you his hellfire t-shirt to wear, along with a pair of his boxers.

eddie averted his eyes when you walked into his bedroom, he’d never seen your bare legs before.

“sorry it’s a little messy, wasn’t expecting anyone.”

you giggled, admiring the posters on his wall and the little things around his room that were just so very eddie.

his bed was unmade, and you remembered that before all of this, eddie was sleeping soundly.

you climbed into his bed, sitting on top of the sheets.

you picked the bed side closest to the wall, farthest from the door, you felt safer that way. as if eddie’s body was like a barrier that could protect you from anything.

you waited for eddie, watching him closely as he changed into new pyjamas. he sat down beside you, and leaned against the headboard, a small lamp on his bedside table was iluminating your faces in golden light.

you pushed yourself up next to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“sorry for waking you up.” you mumbled.

“don’t say that.” eddie wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his fingers combing gently through your hair. “never say that. anytime, for any reason, you come to me, okay?”

“okay.”

you both climbed under the covers. you were overwhelmed by the smell of him at first. it was comforting, and you tried to be discreet as you pulled the duvet up to your nose.

eddie turned the lamp off, darkness falling over the room. he turned onto his side to face you, his arm was holding himself up, elbow bent.

you felt trapped between him and the wall, in a good way. safe, even.

you stared at his figure in the darkness. you could only just make out his bug eyes, and his long, curly hair falling over his face.

it began to rain outside, the wet pitter hitting the window softly.

“promise me you’ll wake me up if you get anxious or scared.”

“i promise.” you yawned, turning until you were huddled into his side.

you pressed yourself against him, surrounding yourself in his warmth and smell. you wrapped an arm around his torso, clutching at the back of his t-shirt.

your hands were freezing, and eddie was deliciously warm, you just couldn’t resist. you slipped your hand under his shirt, pressing your cold palm and fingertips to the bottom of his back.

eddie hissed at the sudden coldness, his back arching further into you. you giggled against his neck.

eddie’s hand came up and held your head against his chest, kissing along your hairline. you could feel him smiling against your forehead. he was so warm and cosy like this, making you forget all about that stupid fucking party.

“you’re safe with me, baby.”

[kaytrawrites]

Observation Log #2 - August 2021

My source post, some context, more context (this account is my writing account. the one in the first linked post is my main) (latter two courtesy of Lem Demonadelem)

Transcription of my observation log so those whose mcyt Ranboos that are going through a similar thing don't feel so alone.

Table of Contents Log Below

1.8.21

Ok.

Ive had time to calm down and Observe. I’ve had cameras in the public areas of my home for a while. Especially in Ran’s space. Gotta get those cute moments when Im not there.

I reviewed the recordings.

I had some old tech in storage up on one of the shelves. They managed to get up there and pull it down.

How I didn’t notice that Ran had done that, idk…

They were messing around with the tape recorder two days ago.

I’ll need to grab that and see what they did.

–

Ive got the tape recorder. I grabbed it when they went down for a nap while they were watching Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Looks like they were playing about with some of the old music?

Music

Jesus Christ.

They hated distorted music before but now they are creating it!?

I need to review more of the recordings and see what else they’ve been up to…

–

Found more tapes from the 30th.

Let’s see what they’ve been up to…

Music More Music

I mean… They are kinda a jam. Just really creepy…

Back to reviewing the recordings…

–

Ok. Nothing else really happened on the 30th.

However.

On the 31st, after we got back from the doctor’s, they started messing about with the old camera.

I’ll see if I can grab it and see what he did.

–

He was just waking up when I went to grab it.

Got a bit distracted playing with him. He wanted to look at some pictures on the internet. We looked at pictures. He seemed enthralled by those ‘liminal space’ pictures.

Either way. I’ve got the camera now. 

Lets see what they did.

–

Jfc is that Rick Astley??

Did Ran just rick-roll me??

It was kinda difficult to tell who that was. Except the camera still had the undistorted picture.

Looks like he used the ‘Generation Loss’ effect on the picture?

He’s always been clever. Didn’t expect them to be this clever…

–

Oh yeah. They drew this weird 4-like symbol in their book in red ink.

2.8.21

Not much happened with Ran while I was around today.

They were messing with the tape recorder. When they doze off, I’ll grab the cassette and listen to what they’ve got on there

–

Got the cassette. Let’s see what he’s been up to.

Video

Ok. Not as creepy as a few days ago.

Still odd.

3.8.21

He was messing about with an old Sony TV today.

Put on the Walten Files for him.

He enjoyed.

4.8.21

Not much happened today.

He played around with the old Sony TV and a VCR. He recorded some text onto the tape. He scratched on the door trying to go out. I think he wanted to bury it cause he eventually gave up begging to go outside and just shoved the tape under a pile of my dirty laundry.

Yeah… I need to do a load.

I watched the tape when they fell asleep.

It’s just a bunch of names? And collections of letters?

5.8.21

Not much variance today.

I worked. Ran and I baked. I made them some new little outfits.

They seemed pretty pleased with the new outfits.

6.8.21

Again. Not much variance today.

7.8.21

I put on Buzzfeed Unsolved again for today.

Ran was enthralled.

8.8.21

Not much variance today.

A friend sent me the Trailer for Part 6 of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Ran had enjoyed the other parts when they were released, so I showed them the trailer.

He seemed to particularly enjoy Jolyne’s Theme.

9.8.21

Ran has a bucket hat now.

10.8.21

Put on more Buzzfeed Unsolved for Ran.

He enjoyed.

11.8.21

Ran was scribbling stuff on some bits of paper.

He hid it from me.

If I want to find it, I’ll have to completely upturn his upright hutch.

And that’s a bad idea.

I’ll keep an eye on the cameras for where they hide the papers.

12.8.21

He was playing with the VCR again. He was trying to put some video onto a tape.

Something messed up and only like the bottom half of the video was put on the tape for like 5 seconds. The tape had a recording of some old party on it. So when the part Ran put on the tape ended, it cut back to the party recording.

The sudden change from silence to party music spooked him real bad.

Imma be honest, seeing them jump was pretty funny.

13.8.21

It’s Friday.

Put on more Buzzfeed Unsolved for Ran. He was right spooked by it.

14.8.21

Ran was begging to go outside again.

Tomorrow buddy. Tomorrow.

15.8.21

The quarantine period is over.

Let Ran out into his old outdoor mining run later in the afternoon.

He scratched in the dirt with sticks and stuff. Didn’t do much actual digging like before.

When they came in, they seemed a bit disappointed.

16.8.21

A friend brought their sbi Tommy and Philza over for a little playdate.

Ran seemed to perk up. Their Tommy seemed a little off-put, but warmed up pretty quick to Ran’s new state. Their Phil just kinda rolled with Tom and Ran’s chaos.

After they left, Ran did some painting.

I’m still keeping an eye on the cameras for those papers.

17.8.21

Not much variance today.

Maybe I shouldn’t note down when things don’t happen outside the usual.

19.8.21

Another playdate with the friend’s sbi Tommy. We went down to the beach for a few hours.

21.8.21

Watched a lot of game playthroughs today. Ran watched every second.

Job Simulator, Alien Isolation, Cooking Simulator, Gorn, Minecraft, and Oxenfree. Oh! Also tried to watch Sam and Colby’s video on The Conjuring House.

Ran started dozing off during Oxenfree.

Bed time.

22.8.21

Ran saw a video about someone playing an omnichord. He got all excited. I checked if anyone in the area had one.

Found one for pretty cheap on Ebay.

It’ll show up eventually.

23.8.21

Rewatched the Oxenfree playthough with Ran. He managed to stay up this time.

31.8.21

The friend with the sbi Tommy and Philza brought them over. Another friend with a dtqk George and Quackity also came over.

Nice little playdate.