#in a slump or something. impossible to wake up before 11 impossible to fall asleep before 3

[aggressionbread]

i need to make more small creative projects that are purely for myself. between the pressure to create things i can monetize and all my personal projects right now being ambitious and time consuming, i feel like i'm going to explode

[eepy-pleepy]

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

[noirlevity]

Scent Chapter 4.5

Pairing: TadaAi

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Synopsis: Ainosuke once loved Tadashi, but ever since he broke his heart, he decided to never have anything to do with him. But what happens if he meets him again after so many years and finds out a secret that will change both of their lives forever?

Chapter summary: Mutual pining is never at the same intensity.

Tags: Omegaverse, forced bonding, forced marriage, sorta angst, slow burn

A/N:  Just a little treat. I reached a milestone while working on this fanfic. I think I'm truly back. This isn't part of the original chapters I wrote so it's more like an extra but I really wanted this. The fanfic is serious so I just wanted to write more fluff. The next two chapters are extras as well. 

Read: AO3 || 1 2 3 4

Footfalls fall heavy on the carpeted floor. Ainosuke slumps on the couch and crosses his legs. Tadashi feels his stare on his back as he ties the curtains. 

"How do you find the room Ainosuke-sama? We didn't change anything but maybe you'd like to change some things?"

"It's fine."

Tadashi walks back to him.

"Then I'll leave you to rest. Natsuno will wake you when dinner is ready. For your luggage, which do you prefer, for the maids to unpack them for you or you'd rather do it yourself?"

"I'll unpack them myself."

"If there isn’t anything else then I’ll excuse myself."

"Wait."

Ainosuke walks towards Tadashi. He stands and stares at the older man. Too conscious of himself, Tadashi looks away and tightens his lip in a grave line. 

"Let me see your room," Ainosuke says after a long silence. Tadashi looks up, a bit surprised. 

"It's on the other wing. It's better if you rest now. You’re tired aren’t you?"

"The one you used when we were young?"

Tadashi shifts his eyes conscious of Ainosuke's heavy stares. 

"Yes."

"Heh~ then I'll rest. But the clothes will wrinkle at this rate." Ainosuke dips his head to look at his clothes and then raises his eyes to leer at Tadashi. 

"Undress me." 

Tadashi blinks. He didn’t want to but what can he do? Hesitantly he walks closer to him; eyes locked on his master’s pink necktie. Swiftly, Tadashi pulls on the cool fabric of Ainosukue’s tie and unbuckles the knot silently. The rustling sound of the fabric filled the quiet room. Heavy stares felt as if his skin is burned by an iron rod. The warmth of Ainosuke’s breath on his hand and the sound of his own heart blasts in his ears. Tadashi feels cold. Almost too cold that he could feel himself about to grind his teeth because of it. 

Truthfully, he didn’t want to be Ainosuke’s secretary. Eleven years have gone by since they last saw each other. They separated badly so he knew for sure that working under him won’t be good for the both of them. He said bad things; hateful things; unforgivable things. But he thought he would grant himself the opportunity to be with him again, for a little while. He thinks it's a little consolation after everything.

A pleasant sweet smell hangs heavy in the air. Tadashi secretly basks in the scent. Memories flash in his mind. Memories of him and Ainosuke. For the first time, Tadashi feels completely safe. He feels satisfied. Yet he is afraid this scent will hold him back from walking away. He hopes with all his heart that it won’t. 

Lost in thought, Tadashi is brought back to reality when he feels the heavy stares again. Ainosuke moves his body forward making Tadashi feel pressed against the younger man’s chest. Being too close to his master is suffocating.  

"Sir," Tadashi steps back in a half step, his voice trembling as he gasps. Words are stuck in his throat. He didn’t have the courage to tell Ainosuke to stop staring.

"What?" Ainosuke perches a hand on Tadashi's waist. 

"You don’t want to take my clothes off? Everyone wants to, you know. It's a privilege I’m giving you as my secretary."

At this Tadashi turns red. 

"Continue."

"It’s not as if you’ve never undressed my father right? You don't need to be shy."

Tadashi is silent. He swallows a lump in his throat at Ainosuke's comment.

The tie comes off. Tadashi walks to the side to take off his jacket but Ainosuke’s hand on his waist doesn't let go. Tadashi was at a loss. He couldn't move. He swallows hard and tried to wrench away Ainosuke's grip by moving fast. Ainosuke only licks his bottom lip when Tadashi manages to break away.

Tadashi figured that the awkwardness that looms between them was because he couldn't think of anything to say. After 11 years of not seeing Ainosuke, he was rendered speechless by how the other has grown. He's no longer the cute kid that used to cling to him innocently. And he's even talking about adult matters now without care. A warm feeling envelops Tadashi’s chest. He doesn’t regret that he became Ainosuke’s secretary. Even if it’s just for a little bit, he wants to be close to him again. For him, it is enough that they’re just inside a room together without speaking as long as he is with him. Smoothly, Tadashi unbuttoned Ainosuke's vest and decided to make conversation. 

"You've become so beautiful now," Tadashi began. Ainosuke's eyes widened at the comment.

"Of course they would want to… to undress you to see for themselves how beautiful you are. Perhaps it's normal. You are at the ripe age to find a partner after all."

It was what Tadashi honestly thought. Ainosuke had always been good-looking. It's no surprise to him that the younger man had many suitors. He had it all. Tadashi was proud of this. He was proud of Ainosuke. The younger man is silent. Tadashi didn’t notice the way he looked at him with eyes colored by a mix of contemplation and expectation. 

"For sure you've played with others yourself."

Tadashi furrows his brow. It takes a while before he answers.

"Not really. I didn't have the time."

The vest is taken off. Now Ainosuke is down to his inside shirt. 

At Ainosuke’s question, Tadashi feels cornered. He didn't want to be asked personal questions. The silence that hung felt like chains chaffing his wrist. He feels his master shift. He feels him pull him in for a whisper and it activates his flight response.

"Then," Ainosuke's tone was dangerous, thick with the juice of the forbidden apple. 

"Why don't you play now?" Tadashi unconsciously looks at him and meets his eyes. The look makes him feel as though he was challenging him to do something. Tadashi is confused. Play with whom?

Ainosuke leans in but Tadashi's fist on his chest tightens, stopping him from leaning forward. Ainosuke smirks. The look of confusion on Tadashi's face pisses him off. So he really hadn't had experience? Impossible. Ainosuke couldn't believe it. 

As Ainosuke leers at Tadashi, he is angry with himself. Why was he trying to seduce this man? What good would that do to him? There is a thrill in having this man a prisoner to pleasure begging him to take him. There is a thrill in seeing his cold impassive face break into orgasmic rapture as Ainosuke toy's with him. That is the reason why.

Tadashi unbuttons the white shirt revealing Ainosuke's taut well defined pectoral muscles. If it was another person, they'd probably be fucking now. Usually, people can't resist seeing his naked self. But Tadashi is unmoved. He didn't even look at him twice. 

The sound of rustling fabric and his heartbeat are like a ticking clock. Ainosuke stares at Tadashi’s  downcast eyes hoping for him to make a mistake. Hoping for him to give him a sign that he wants to be intimate with him. This was always the course of events with others. To his utter disappointment, Tadashi only touches him as what his job requires. It almost feels like rejection. The corner of his mouth twitches. The bed is just meters away, why doesn't Tadashi get a clue?

Warm fingers brushed his chest. Ainosuke feels  Tadashi finally take off his shirt. It folds on the juncture of his arm and then Tadashi finally pulls it off of him. He feels Tadashi's breath on his chest. He heaves. He wonders if this is how it would feel like if Tadashi roams his mouth on his body. He wonders  if this is how it would be if Tadashi ghosts his mouth on the ridges of his collar bone. Ainosuke feels his member stiffen at the thought. Sweat sluices down his jaw as he stares at Tadashi with eyes full of want. The anger that he felt was dispersed by the throes of desire that roped his insides ever since he breathe in his scent. He didn’t even try fighting back. He chooses to be poisoned and doesn’t even realize it. 

"What do you like?" Ainosuke drawls as he played with the hem of Tadashi’s suit. He feels hotter than before. He wants to know Tadashi’s type. He wants to know if he could fit as his ideal type. 

"I haven't thought about it." Comes Tadashi’s bland reply. His reticence about the topic is obvious. 

Ainosuke is silent. He remembers how Tadashi used to say he loves him.

"Liar." Ainosuke’s cool voice came in a whisper. 

Tadashi looks up but immediately looks away. 

"Maybe someone who has a great smile."

Ainosuke smiles at that. Again, what a useless answer. 

"I'll get your clothes." 

Ainosuke grabs his wrist.

"It's fine… I’ll get it. Stay put."

Ainosuke takes a shirt and long cotton pants. He takes off his trousers exposing his hard-on without shame. He slips inside the pants and walks to the bed. 

"Tadashi, don't leave. Wait until I fall asleep."

Tadashi nods. He stays with Ainosuke even after hearing his master pleasure himself under the sheets. He stays with him even after he falls asleep.

[bluesteelchester]

Race to Center - Chapter One

Summary: Nightmares have invaded your dreams, just as midterms crank up the heat on your semester. Things get even more stressful when two FBI agents come to ask you some questions.

Series Masterlist

Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, OC (Angels), Reader Pairings: None yet in this chapter Word Count: 1,362 Warnings: Angst, Language, Canonical Violence A/N: It’s been a long time off. I apologize for a long wait. (Good thing I kept notes hm?) Hope you enjoy the first chapter. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.

Your eyes stung, as the sky grew painfully bright. You couldn’t believe what was happening. It was as if the sun itself was crashing to Earth. Thousands of brilliantly streaking comets were falling from above. 

The earth was trembling beneath you, splitting into wide canyons. The stench of brimstone burning your lungs and bringing you to your knees coughing. High-pitched shrieks were bursting forth from below, as bony and battered hands tore at you. Fear was quickly overtaking you. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, escaping their grasp was impossible, as the creatures drew themselves up from the earth. Their hollow and tormented eyes met yours.  You screamed. Tears were falling down your cheeks as you attempted to wrench yourself free. Their grip was only growing tighter, your struggling growing frantic with each breath…  

- Your alarm blared loudly next to your ear, as you struggled to pull an arm free from the sheets tightly entangling about you. Smacking the snooze button, you groaned and sat up. It was the third time this week that you’d had this dream. Including the times from last week, would make it five. Stretching, you reached back and wiped the sweat from your neck. Your pillow and sheets were drenched. Again? None of this made any sense.

At first you thought this was all just a result of the stress from your midterms. After all, you were taking an extra course to get ahead this semester… but you rarely ever had the same dream twice. And these were just so vivid… and so violent. They’d wake you up in the middle of the night screaming. At times shaking so violently that it would take you hours to fall back asleep. Something was wrong, and you were beginning to wonder if you needed help.

“So lemme get this straight… he’s already here?” Dean asked between bites of eggs and bacon.

“Correct. The brands only appear once Michael’s lieutenant has taken up their vessel.”

Taking a sip of coffee, Sam looked around the café. “But you don’t have any clue who it is?”

Castiel shook his head curtly, “No. Michael had very few confidants, and not many of those survived the fall from Heaven… but there are rumors one may have survived. Other angels have noticed the change and are looking for him as well…”

“Great! Nothing like hunting for a douchebag with nothing to go on…” Wiping his hands, Dean stood. “—let’s get started.”

Finishing the last of his gluten-free toast, Sam joined his brother. “Hey Cas, Dean and I are heading to the police department to see what we can dig up… see what you can find on your end?” 

The angel nodded and disappeared.

______________________________________________________________________

Lazily, you tapped your foot along to the beat from your earbuds as you waited on the light to turn. It was barely quarter to five and you were on your second large cup of coffee for the day. The familiar, paced beep of the crossing light sounded and you stepped from the curb. Maybe it was because you were so exhausted but you never even saw it.

The car horn blasted, your coffee flying from your grip, as you were violently jerked out of the way. Falling back to the curb, your heart was thundering. You looked around bewildered. There was your drink, spilled on the street… but the person you were certain had pulled you from harm’s way? Nowhere.  It was certain. The stress was getting to you. You were beginning to crack. 

Dusting yourself off, you took one last look around for your hero. 

“Get it together…” you reasoned, pulling your scarf tight.

You had too much to do before the night was over to be losing your mind.

 ______________________________________________________________________

“Well that was a complete waste of time…” Dean huffed, taking a long drag of coffee from his styrofoam cup. 

The sun was setting, and they were no better off than when they had started that morning. Security footage from all of the vandalized funeral homes had shown no signs of any break ins. Not a soul or even a ‘staticky’ disturbance on the screen. No one had been there.

Sam slumped against the impala, crossing his arms. “You suppose Cas has found anything…?”

As if on cue, a gravelly voice announced his arrival. “- Dean.”

“Whaddya got Cas?”

“I have as they say, the good and the bad news…” He shrugged.

Rubbing his forehead, Dean could just feel a headache starting in. “Well, it couldn’t just be a milk run, now could it…?  Start with the bad first.”

Dipping his head, Cas began, “I have discovered which lieutenant of Michael’s is the Trumpeter…”

Dean frowned. “But…”

The angel’s expression became somber. “John. However… John perished during the fall from Heaven… ” 

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion, “Cas, how is it possible for this to be happening if John isn’t in his vessel? Is another angel doing this?” 

Dean nodded in agreement.

Cas held up his hands in pause. “I do not have reason to believe that another angel could use John’s vessel… at least not to its true potential as he would have. It seems that somehow, even in his absence the vessel has become active without the need of its host.”

The three exchanged  worried looks.

“So you’re telling me there’s an unmanned nuke walking around town….?” Dean opened the trunk of the impala, his eyes wandering over the tools at his disposal. “How do we even find, let alone stop something like that?” He briefly ran his fingers longingly over the grenade launcher, with a small smile.

“Is this where you tell us some good news Cas?” Sam prompted.

“Yes.” He replied. “I have discovered some information that could help us narrow down the area where this individual may reside… ”

Pulling a map of the town from his trench coat, he smoothed it out across the hood of the car. 

“These circles are the funeral homes where the deceased were branded…” he gestured with a broad stroke of his hand.

Looking over his shoulder, Sam pointed at an empty space on the map. “Cas, what about this empty space in the middle of them all?”

Cas provided a light sigh, “I was getting to that… That I believe is where the vessel resides, as all the affected funeral homes are within equal distance of this area.”

“- It doesn’t look like that big of an area. What’s the catch?” Sam continued, tracing the area with his fingers.

Dean peered over at the legend, and read aloud. “UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS  - AMHERST… Great.”

Cas shrugged, folding the map back up. “We will have to discover who the vessel is quickly. As their power increases they will become more easily perceptible to other angels, as you and Sam once were as vessels.”

Dean instinctively winced, grasping his ribs. “Dickbags. What’re we waiting for? Let’s get over there before those vultures can… ”

______________________________________________________________________

Wearily, you looked up at your fifth-floor bedroom window and smiled. Maybe tonight you’d finally get some sleep? You definitely earned it after two long exams, and a lecture from a professor without an off-switch. You dragged each foot up the set of steps to the front door of your apartment complex. Fumbling with your keys, you stopped.

“Excuse us… - Miss. We know it’s very late, but we were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us?”

You turned slightly on your heel. It was late. Two men in suits and ties were approaching you. Why?

You cautiously slid your keys between your knuckles. “Help with what…? It’s very late. I’d like to go to bed.”

Coming to rest just short of you, the two men each reached into their jacket pockets, and in sync flipped open a pair of FBI badges.

“Again we’re very sorry Miss… but this is urgent business. It can’t wait.” The taller one spoke softly, offering an apologetic smile.

“I’m Agent Hall. This is my partner, Agent Oates. As we mentioned, we need to ask you a few questions...” The shorter man interjected, pocketing his credentials. 

What were a pair of FBI agents doing on your doorstep at 11 o’clock on a Tuesday night?

_____________________________________________________________________

TAGS: @its-not-show-its-a-lifestyle @whimsicalrobots @eurusholmmes

[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans |Loki x OFC (Alexis Randall) | Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter:   One month has passed since Alexis and Loki “met” at the bar, Loki has moved on but is confronted with harsh reality of Alexis and the consequences of his cavalier attitude towards relationships, hookups, and birth control. He does not react well.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

One Month Later

“Dr. Randall?” Rachel, Alexis’s receptionist, called out.

Alexis’s head snapped up from her desk, where she fell asleep between appointments.

“Yes?” She smoothed back her hair behind her ears and took a sip of her third cup of coffee of the day.

“Your 2 o’clock is here. The Masons? Can I show them in?” Rachel gazed at her boss with worry. Alexis never napped during the day and stopped drinking caffeine by 11 a.m.

“Yes, please.” Alexis stifled a yawn before composing herself.

The rest of her appointments dragged and she pushed her last appointment out the door rather than allow the Clarks to linger like they do after most sessions. Alexis wanted nothing more to go home and crawl into bed. And then her phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered with a weary tone.

“Tough day?” Hannah asked on the other end. One of Alexis’s few friends.

“I am so tired. And hungry. Tired and hungry.” she groaned.

“Well then, let’s make dinner a quick one. You are still meeting me?”

“Shit! I completely forgot. I don’t understand what is going on with me. Give me five minutes and meet me at the diner down the street?”

“Deal. I’m already almost there. Meet me inside.”

Alexis straightened her desk, grabbed her purse and headed out the door. Hannah was waiting in a booth inside as she slid in.

“I waited for you to order.” Hannah commented.

On cue, the server appeared.

“I’ll have the mac and cheese bites and the bacon cheeseburger with fries.”

The server wrote everything down, nonplussed, while Hannah stared at her friend. “Anything to drink, hun?”

“Strawberry milkshake. Oh, and a Diet Coke.”

“Got it? And you?” The server turned to Hannah.

“House salad with grilled chicken, dressing on the side. And water with lemon.”

“Thanks, hun.” The server grabbed the menus from Hannah, walking away.

Hannah leaned across the table. “That’s some order.”

“I told you I was hungry.” Alexis settled into her seat.

“If I didn’t know you so well, I would say you’re pregnant.” Hannah commented off hand.

Alexis froze, staring at Hannah with wide eyes. Hannah giggled.

“But Eric broke up with you and you’re always so careful with birth control.”

The blood drained from Alexis’s face as she flashed back to that stupid encounter in the bathroom with Loki. She scrambled through her purse, digging out her Filofax, flipping the pages until she saw the note a few weeks ago.

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, no…” She cradled her head in her hands as the server returned with their drinks.

“But you’re on birth control?” Hannah grew quiet.

“I was having some issues, so on advice of my doctor I stopped before trying an alternative. Eric and I were using condoms. Not that we were having sex at the end.”

“So no problem…” Alexis glared at her friend with tear brimmed eyes. Hannah stopped speaking.

Alexis’s hands twisted on top of the table. “There was an… encounter. When Eric and I broke up.”

Hannah let loose a low whistle. “Who would have guessed that uptight little Alexis was secretly a harlot? Details.”

Alexis’s cheeks burned red. She told the sordid tale of meeting Loki at the bar, to sex in the bathroom, and Loki’s disappearance.

“THE BATHROOM?!” Hannah yelped, wrinkling her nose.

Alexis shushed her. “Not my proudest moment, Hannah. And keep your voice down.”

Hannah leaned back against the red vinyl booth, taking in that Alexis, the most dependable, responsible person she knew, fucked a guy. Not just any guy, but Loki in the bathroom of a seedy bar.

“Say something, Hannah.”

“I am in shock. What are you going to do?”

The server appeared with their food, which they left untouched.

“I am not sure. This was not exactly planned.”

Hannah leaned over and flipped through her Filofax. “Nope, definitely not planned.”

“Your humor is not wanted right now.”

Hannah shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood.” She stabbed her salad. “First, you need to eat and then let’s find a pharmacy and get a test.”

Alexis pushed her plate towards Hannah. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Hannah pushed the plate back at her. “Eat. You might be eating for two.”

Alexis groaned.

-

The annoying chime of JARVIS disturbed Loki’s peaceful lunch within the confines of his apartment. Over the past year, he curated a living space he enjoyed with artwork and textiles that brought him joy. What he didn’t enjoy were the intrusions by Stark’s electronic butler.

“Master Loki. There’s a young woman in the lobby asking to see you.”

Loki placed his utensils down. “Did she give a reason?”

A pause.

“It is of a personal nature.”

Loki waved his hand in the air. “Send her away. Tell her I’m indisposed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Loki returned to his lunch. It was probably one of the women he slept with looking for a serious relationship, he mused. That was one thing Loki was not interested in. Lust, not love, ruled his heart these days. And he had no intentions of changing his ways anytime soon.

The next morning JARVIS chimed again, at the hour of 7 a.m. well before Loki woke up on days where he wasn’t due anywhere.

“Master Loki, the woman is back. She is most insistent she needs to speak with you.”

Loki groaned, rolling onto his back. “Leave me be!”

“Should I send her away?”

“Yes.” Loki grabbed the pillow and covered his head, falling back asleep.

The morning wake up call was gone and forgotten as soon as Loki got going for this day. Until he headed out that evening, walking through the empty lobby of Avengers Towers on his way to hopefully meet a new conquest.

“LOKI!” A female voice called out.

Loki turned to see a young woman step out from behind a pillar. Her short, light brown hair and blue eyes vaguely familiar.

“The building’s been closed for hours. How are you even still here?”

“I hid in a supply closet.”

“I shall tell Stark his security is lacking.” He turned his attention to the girl. “You need to leave.”

“No,” She pressed her hand against his chest. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Loki crossed his arms, tapping his foot. “What is it?” He spat at her.

Her composure crumbled. Loki only then noticed the tears in her eyes and the envelope in her hands.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she muttered. “Of course not. Why would you? Here.” She shoved the envelope in his hand. “I thought you had a right to know.” She walked away, shoulders shaking. “And in case you fucking care, my name is Alexis, ass!”

The name triggered Loki’s memory back to the Whiskey Front Room. He opened the envelope and it contained a single sheet of paper with lab results.

Pregnancy Test: Positive

Loki stared at the door where Alexis exited a minute ago and then back at the paper before laughing. His plans of going out forgotten. He followed her, his long legs catching with Alexis easily.

“Is this some sort of joke?” He called out after her.

She stopped in tracks before spinning on her foot. Black trails of mascara marred her cheeks. “Does it look like I’m fucking joking?!” She snapped, spitting towards him.

Loki took a step back before smiling. He handed the paper back to her. “It’s a false positive. It is impossible.”

Alexis shoved it back at him. “I took three home tests, and that is a copy of my lab results. Do you realize how rare a false positive pregnancy test from a lab is?”

Loki wrinkled his nose. “No. But it’s a mistake.” He nodded his head. “I cast a spell to prevent this thing from happening. So your little scheme isn’t going to work. What is it you want? Money? I don’t have any.”

Alexis jabbed a finger into his chest. “You can drop the condescending tone. I am not here for money or anything else. I just thought you should know… in case you ever wondered if you had a kid out there. You do.” She sniffled.

Alexis slumped her shoulders and walked away. Loki reached out for her.

“Listen, I still don’t believe it, but I can’t have you leaving until we straighten this out.”

“You want me to stay… with… you?” Alexis stuttered. “No fucking way! You just called me a liar.”

“I said it was an impossibility, which is. I’m afraid you need to come with me. Just for one night. You can stay in my quarters.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I wasn’t asking. You can sleep in the bed and I will take the sofa.” Alexis crossed her arms and stared at Loki. “If you try to leave, I will forcibly return you to the tower. I prefer you coming willingly. I apologize for the inconvenience, but if what you say is true, you may be in danger.”

Alexis’s jaw dropped. “Why would my life be in danger?”

“I have many enemies. Now come.” Loki cradled his arm around her.

“Okay, but we are discussing this whole enemies, life in mortal danger thing some more once we get back.”

Loki nodded. “After we have the doctor examination tomorrow and she confirms you are not pregnant, I will answer all questions you want. But for now, let’s return.” Loki’s confidence Alexis was not pregnant faltered each time he mentioned it. There was no way his magic failed. But something itched at the back of his head. He pushed it away.

Alexis allowed Loki to guide her back to the Tower and into the elevator. Once they reached his quarters, he disappeared into the bedroom.

“Here are some clothes to sleep in.” He offered a t-shirt and shorts of his. “They might be a little big. I could ask around if you want—”

“No!” She yelled, causing Loki to smile. “The shirt and shorts are fine.” Alexis snatched them out of Loki’s hand.

Loki nodded in agreement. “Are you hungry? I can cook or order something in?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I just want to sleep and get this over with so I can return to my normal life.”

He rose and grabbed a spare pillow and blanket from a closet. “If you are up before me, please wake me. The sooner we settle this, the sooner you can get on with your life.”

He stretched onto the couch and Alexis’s heart sunk. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps she expected more from Loki than indifference. A hint he cared for the unborn child she carried. She turned over and settled in for a restless night’s sleep in a strange bed.

-

“Brother… Brother…” Thor whispered, shaking Loki out of his slumber.

“What is it, Thor?” He waved off further assault from his brother.

“There is a woman wearing your clothes asleep in your bed.”

“And that requires assault? Have you never seen a woman before?” Loki rolled over, hoping to catch more sleep before facing the nightmare of Alexis and this impossible pregnancy.

“I am still responsible for you here on Midgard, Loki. And I have a right—”

“—You have no right to my personal life!” Loki sneered. “There are things that are mine and mine only. Now leave me be!”

Thor held his hands up in defeat. “Fair enough. But when you are ready to talk… I am here.”

“A small comfort.” Loki forced a smile.

Alexis stepped out, wearing Loki’s t-shirt, which came down to her mid thigh. “What’s going on?” She rubbed her eyes, hair sticking out.

“My brother was just leaving.” Loki rose and shoved Thor out the front door before he could ask questions of Alexis.

She pursed her lips as Loki turned and chuckled nervously.

“So… does anyone know about me?”

“Not yet. I would prefer to keep this between us until we settle things.”

“They’re already settled for me.” she muttered, tucking her chin to her chest.

Loki’s face softened. “Forgive me for being a skeptic. My magic has never failed me before.”

“Maybe you wanted it to fail.”

“Why would I want it to fail?” Loki squinted at her.

She shrugged her shoulders and smirked. “Maybe you like me.”

“I’m not looking for emotional entanglement. And I am certainly not looking to be a father.” Loki moved to the kitchen to fix some coffee and a light breakfast.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.” Alexis moved to watch Loki in the kitchen. She marveled at the efficiency of his movements. No wasted energy, no extraneous steps. This was a man who pre-planned every aspect of his life. No mistakes, no room for error. Until her.

“Can I have some of that?” She asked as Loki fixed a caramel mocha.

Not as good as the one from the coffee shop, but it sufficed for days when he couldn’t be bothered to leave the Tower. He invested in a top of the line espresso machine for just such purpose.

He sized her up with a questioning glance but prepared a second serving and handed it to her. “Dr. Cho is expecting us at 8. Are you hungry?”

“Famished.” She sipped the coffee after blowing on it to cool, it verged on too sweet for her tastes.

Loki rummaged into the fridge. “I have eggs or… eggs.”

“Eggs, please. Scrambled.”

Loki prepared the eggs as he did the coffee, meticulously.

“I’m glad you don’t fuck the way you cook.” Alexis mused, taking small sips of the sweet coffee.

“Meaning?” He tucked into his eggs, adding buttered toast to both his and Alexis’s plate.

“Precise. Cold. Clinical. Sex should be messy.”

Loki couldn’t resist a smirk. “Isn’t that how we ended up here?”

“Touche. Do I have time to shower before I get poked and prodded to satisfy you that I am pregnant?”

Loki glanced at the clock. “Use whatever you want. If you would prefer, wear one of my shirts rather than your clothes from yesterday.”

“Thanks.”

Loki finished up his food and cleaned up the dishes and his bedding off the couch. Alexis emerged with wet hair, wearing one of Loki’s black button-down shirts, tied at the waist, the top buttons undone. Loki swallowed hard.

“You said I could borrow one.”

“It’s fine. You look good. Give me a few moments and we can go.”

Loki showered and dressed for the day in jeans and a t-shirt, joining Alexis in the living room. “Ready?”

She nodded, and Loki took her hand. He glanced down the hallway before slinking them out and towards the elevator. He froze a voice called out.

“Is this a walk of shame?” Tony commented.

Alexis turned bright red as Loki pulled her close. “Go to the elevator and wait for me.” She mumbled and walked away.

“No need to be embarrassed. She’s cute. Kind of quiet. Frankly, I was wondering.” Tony smirked at Loki.

Loki resisted the bait. “She is just a friend in need of some help. Once she is settled, you’ll never see her again and you can go back to speculating.”

“Whatever, Reindeer Games. Seems like an awful lot of trouble for a friend… wearing your shirt.” Tony averted his gaze.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Now if you excuse me, I have a previous engagement.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Tony called out as Loki beelined for Alexis, who was holding the elevator.

“Was that Tony Stark?” Alexis whispered once the elevator doors closed and Loki punched in the number.

“Unfortunately, yes. But once we confirm you’re not pregnant, you won’t have to worry about him.”

Alexis grew quiet. “Still convinced this is a mistake?”

“I’m never wrong and my magic never fails.”

One hour later, Dr. Cho pulled Loki aside.

“She is pregnant.”

Loki chuckled, which turned into nervous laughter. “You must be joking. There’s no way—”

“I did two blood tests and an ultrasound. I heard the baby’s heartbeat.”

Loki’s jaw dropped. “But my magic—”

“—failed. Now you can either accept reality or live a life of delusion. Right now there is a young woman in there who is scared and you calling her a liar is not going to help. I am going back in there. Are you coming with me?”

Loki nodded in shock and followed Dr. Cho back into the examination room. Alexis’s eyes met Loki’s with fear, the tears threatening to fall with a blink of her eye or a swipe of her hand.

Loki smiled a crooked smile at her and sighed. “I guess we need to talk.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- its been a while, I haven’t known how to carry the story forward, but recently had a burst of inspiration and wrote the next three chapters. Judging from the last chapter’s feedback, the events of this one isn’t going to be too satisfying.)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8  9  10  11  12  13

Warnings- Angst, angst and more angst

Chapter 14- Cut The Ropes And Let Me Fall

2 Months Later Filming had been through with Jackson’s yelling, “And that’s a wrap!” At the end of the last scene. The camera had stopped rolling, and wouldn’t again unless the need for re shoots arose and by the end of the week, Y/n and Keanu were carded to fly back to Los Angeles. But that wouldn’t be before a photo shoot for promotional pictures and the wrap party the night before their flights. 

By then, they’d managed to smoothen things out yet again, though, they hadn’t been left void of tension; every now and then, they’d reach a fork in the road, reminding them that things weren’t what they used to be. He’d say something a little too harsh or Y/n would get a bit too close, and for a few days, until one of them had decided that it was time to forget, they’d toe around each other, desperately avoiding any kind of serious talk. 

But, despite the awkwardness, things were surprisingly good too. The highs were higher than they used to be. Keanu had mostly forgone his suite, falling asleep next to Y/n most nights, and they would wake up tangled in each other’s embrace the next morning. It was nice, and was worth the bursts of tension, that served as tormenting punctuation.

“You look cute in this,” Keanu slowly sauntered towards Y/n in the now empty dressing room, immediately taking her in his arms, bending to nuzzle her cheek, "You should keep this blouse," he tugged on the fabric of the lace crop top, which generously boasted her cleavage, the color standing out on her skin.

"Maybe I'll ask if I can," Y/n giggled, looking at their reflections in the lengthy mirror mounted to the wall. Her manicured nails skimmed his forearms, clad in leather, leaning her head back on his shoulder. 

Quickly kissing her, Keanu let his touch invade the scalloped hem, inching upwards suggestively, "How long do we have before the shoot?" The mumbled inquisition was muffled as his ministrations traveled lower; behind her ear lobe, lower down her jaw and along the delicate column of her neck. 

"Not long enough," with wavering restraint, Y/n tried to untangle herself from Keanu's affectionate embrace. He'd still insisted on keeping their entanglement under wraps, hiding things from the press and their co workers. Of course, there'd been a few close calls; pictures taken displaying compromising positions and mummers on social media, but even then, their respective publicists had been able to spin the stories to suit their narratives. Y/n and Keanu were close, comfortable friends, who'd grown used to intimacy on set; there was nothing more between them. Each time, it had stung and Y/n couldn't help but feel like his dirty little secret during those periods. But alas, if she wanted him, she'd have to compromise. That was how relationships worked, right?

Even if what they shared was never really a relationship.

Wiggling and turning in his embrace, Y/n gently pushed on Keanu’s chest, biting half her lip as her eyes sparkled, clearly wanting things to continue, just as much as he did, “As much as I want to, we have maybe ten minutes-”

“I’m sure we can make that work,” Keanu leaned in, trying to kiss her again, “Besides, who cares if we're a little late huh? We’re the stars babygirl, they aren’t gonna start without us. Now come on,” dismissing her objecting, outstretched arms, Keanu closed the space, finding her lips in a breath-stealing, hungry kiss, already pawing as the button of her jeans.

“Is the door locked?” Breathless, Y/n spoke against her lips, smiling at how his beard scratched her face. Y/n was already in the process of finding the lapels of his jacket, ready to push it off his broad shoulders, when, answering her question instead of Keanu, was the sound of someone opening the door.

“Places in- '' Jackson stopped abruptly upon seeing them, and frazzled they instantly sprang apart. Immediately, Keanu folded his arms, backing away hastily to put some space between them while Y/n slumped against the edge of the counter, where various products had remained scattered. After months of hiding things, they’d gotten caught on their very last day on set. “I knew it!” Smirking defiantly, Jackson propped himself on the door-frame, “You two,” he pointed between them, “Are good actors, but terrible liars. Especially you,” he pointed accusingly to Keanu, who went all red in the cheeks, barely saved by his scruff covering half his face. 

“What?” Y/n croaked, her throat suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. She was fine with being discovered, but Keanu, she couldn’t tell what he’d do when they were alone. Maybe he’d decide that she wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe she should get to decide if he was worth another round of tears. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” maybe their resident mad genius wasn’t as mad and out of touch as they’d made him out to be. It was always the ones you didn’t suspect anyway. “Those little looks that you two share, the very realistic kisses. At first, I thought I’d struck a chemistry goldmine,” chuckling, Jackson shook his head, pushing up his glasses with his pointer, “But there was something about the way you hold her,” he turned to Keanu, his features softening, “I’d never seen in something,” making an elaborate gesture with his hands, Jackson searched the ceiling for the right word, “Manufactured.”

“I…..” She could tell he was flustered and uncomfortable, even from where she stood, almost two feet away. Keanu would have done everything to keep their so-called relationship in a box, away from the outside, away from something that would make it real.

Saving Keanu the trouble of having to find an excuse to deter his suspicions, Jackson's ability to be sociable left as quickly as it came, and in no time, he was back to his skittish, borderline intolerable self, “Well,” he clapped his hands dramatically, “I hope you two can keep up this momentum, it’ll be fantastic for press. We can tell the media that working together sparked your love and now, you’re inseparable, I’ll run in by the publicists,” already he was walking out of the room, expecting Y/n and Keanu to follow him, something they’d only caught up on when he’d already started down the long hall. Before they joined Jackson, Y/n tried to catch Keanu’s gaze, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he was actively avoiding her face, and that in itself was enough to tell her that he was not okay with what had gone down. 

“Your relationship is going to be a great selling point,” he continued, not caring for their objections, his mind already made up, “But anyways,” they’d just broken off onto the main floor, where things were already set up for the photo shoot, “We should get into the shoot, we’ve only got this guy for a couple hours, Gary had an emergency back home,” Jackson explained briskly, “But thankfully, Lucas here is an amazing photographer. Lucas!” Jackson snapped his fingers, beckoning over a tall, blonde figure.

When Y/n saw his face, she gasped, and she could have sworn that it was impossible for her jaw to not hit the floor. As if things couldn’t get worse. “It’s actually just…..” upon seeing her, he seemed just as shocked, though Y/n supposed that he should have had the upper hand, considering he should have known what movie he’d be doing the pictures for. “It’s just Luke,” he finished, shaking his head, looking bewildered, “Y/n.”

“Luke, you’re….” at a loss for words, Y/n couldn’t help but long for a spontaneous split in the earth to swallow her up and dump her straight into hell. At least there she wouldn’t have to deal with awkward situations with her current ‘sort of’ boyfriend and a ‘sort of ex-boyfriend’ that she’d never officially broken up with. “You’re doing the shoot?”

Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable with it as she was, “I am, Y/n-”

“Well, lady and gents,” Jackson interrupted, apparently not noting the tension, “We’ve only got this place for a few more hours, so we should get started.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keanu was the one who’d spoken, and it was the first time since he’d been cut off by Jackson in the dressing in the dressing room that he’d even opened his mouth, two words said in a tone that was perfectly u readable, “Let’s do this,” without another word, he walked off in the direction of the set up, not even offering a backwards glance.

Y/n was about to break off from the group and do the same, when, just as Jackson moved away, Luke grabbed her arm in a loose grip, “Hey,” he offered her a faltering, faint smile, “Can we talk after?” 

His eyes were pleading, though, just as Y/n was going to tell him that they could, Jackson circled back, “Oh and Lucas,” he’d already completely forgotten, or perhaps he just wasn’t listening, Luke’s clarification of his name, “Get some some good ones of the happy couple.”

“Couple?” His gaze still penetrated Y/n’s sickened expression, though his brows now falling as hope drained from his face, “Right”

“Luke-”

“You know what?” He mustered up a brave face to hide his hurt, letting go of her arm and taking two steps back, “Never mind, let’s just get this done, okay?” And when she nodded, not really knowing how to remedy anything that had happened in the past thirty minutes, he turned away, “Great.”

Great?

No, it wasn’t great. Not really.

Music throbbed in his chest and the air was ignited by a buzz fueled by freely flowing alcohol and the relaxed, carefree demeanor of the cast and crew alike. Filming was finally over, they’d put in the hard work and they'd reap the rewards in about four or five months. He should have been enjoying the party like everyone else, but Keanu just couldn't.

So, instead, he'd gone out through the back of the club, lighting a cigarette between his lips and holding a half finished beer in his free hand. Since earlier that day, when Jackson had caught him and Y/n almost in the act, his mind had been bombarded with a flurry of thoughts. He was the one that had wanted what they had hidden, while simultaneously, Keanu was also the one making it glaringly obvious. That wasn't what he wanted; Y/n was making a fool of him, and fools got hurt. 

Keanu didn't want to get hurt.

Things had only gone even further downhill during the photo shoot and Keanu could tell that it was taking everything in Luke to not take a swing at him. Keanu couldn't blame him, if the roles were reversed he might have done the same. Y/n was……..absolutely astounding. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly intelligent and had a one in a million personality. She worth punches. She was worth more than he could give. Because as hard as Keanu had tried to convince himself that they could work, he knew that he was just postponing the inevitable. He couldn't be with her forever, he wasn't the forever kind of man and her affections already ran deeper than his by far. 

He couldn't do that to her anymore.

The fun was over.

Taking a pull from his smoke, blowing out a white puff seconds later, Keanu barely turned when the heavy iron door behind him in the dark alley way dragged open with a definitive wail. He knew who it was without even looking, he could smell her perfume, clinging to her satin skin and the shimmery black, mini slip dress that she'd slid into before they left her hotel room. He'd had her in that dress, while it was bunched up over her stomach and she was pressed against the wall of the living room, just before they'd left for the party. If only Keanu had known it was the last time he'd lay hands on Y/n again, he might have savored it more.

"You've been out here for a while," he knew that she'd picked up on his pensive mood a while ago, and though he hadn't asked, and not had she told him, Keanu could tell that there was something weighing heavy on Y/n's mind.

"I wanted a cigarette," he huffed, blowing out another cloud, finally glancing her way when she came to stand beside him, staying a few inches away. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"Yeah," she chortled halfheartedly, rolling her eyes, taking a punctuating sip from her red disposable cup, "Shouldn't you?"

"I told you-"

"I heard you before," when Y/n cut him off, Keanu could sense a new malice in her voice, and growing defensive, he wondered where it came from.

"What's your problem?" He rolled his eyes, taking one last drag from the stub before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the toe of his worn brown boot.

As it seemed, Keanu wasn't the only one putting up unwarranted defenses that night, as Y/n shot back, "My problem?" Moving around so he'd be forced to look at her, Y/n licked her lips, shaking her head, "You're the one who's been icing his girlfriend out."

And just like that, just as he fired his last, shitty attempt of a defense mechanism, Keanu chuckled dryly, not even thinking as he spoke, "You're not my girlfriend." Though, the minute he caught his foot in his mouth, Keanu tried to clarify, "Fuck, that's not-"

But it was too late, it was already out there and Keanu's words had hit Y/n like a bullet to the chest, "What?" Her anger, chased with insurmountable hurt and swirling confusion flared, driving what came next, "That's not what you meant?" She mocked, trying to suppress a sniffle, "What did you mean, huh? Did you mean that I'm just some girl you're fucking cause its convenient? Or did you mean that you were still seeing were this is going, and so far, it's not going like I'm your girlfriend," she took a breath, gathering her thoughts, "Well newsflash Keanu, maybe that's a good thing, maybe I don't want to be your fucking girlfriend!"

Her words were angry, but he could see past it, the cracks in her exterior shining through to show her pain. The tears in her ears, the break in her throat. Yet still, he didn't sympathize. If they were going to be like that then it was every man for themselves. "Well maybe that's good!" He yelled, not caring if anyone would hear them over the music, "Cause this isn't working for me."

"This isn't working for you?" Y/n repeated incredulously, "It was working for today, when you wanted to fuck me over a makeup table. It was working for you when we fucked while the car was waiting for us downstairs, right before we came here. God you're so…..ugh!" Through with it, ready to just be alone with her hurt, Y/n tossed her cup at him, watching as it bounced off his chest, the alcohol soaking his front, "You know, everyone thinks you're such a nice guy, but really, you're just another asshole. No wonder you're alone."

"I-" But his argument was muted, for in just seconds, Y/n was gone through the door again, slamming it on her way in, leaving Keanu to curse at the cold air as he spun and tossed his bottle to the grimy wall, the smashing filling his ears. That was it, they were over, and on his terms too. He'd been the one to pick the fight, fan the flame. Keanu wanted that, he wanted to be done so he could move on without falling too deep. And for a while, he'd told himself it would be easy because really, he'd barely let Y/n scratch his surface. 

A breakup was what he wanted. But as he stood there, face hot and eyes stinging by surprise, Keanu couldn't quite decipher why it hurt so bad. Why his breath had gone so ragged, why tears were falling down his face. Why his heart felt like it was breaking. 

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews  @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​ @danceoftwowolves

[otterknowbynow]

T’as de la place sur le canapé

Sometimes the others need a nap; Hunk is more than happy to provide comfort for his paladin family.

Written as part of Gentron Week 2020 for the prompt Cuddle Pile | Literal Sleeping Together. Also on ao3

Keith falls asleep on him first. Hunk wouldn’t normally expect it, but the guy’s been up for three days straight at this point, probably, between all they’ve been doing for alliance-building since Shiro’s been back and zipping off on Blades missions left and right. He’s focused on going over the notes from his last few sourdough biscuit attempts -- it seems like the space yeast, or whatever it is, is more sensitive to temperature than the Earth variety -- when Keith slumps over sideways against his shoulder. He tenses for a brief moment, worried something is very wrong, and looks over carefully without moving anything apart from his eyes. Keith’s mouth is slack, but his eyes are still open and as they focus on Hunk’s face, they widen, and Keith sits back up again quickly. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking away. His shoulders tense quickly and resettle as he leans against the back of the couch, as if he’s felt a chill. “Didn’t mean to…” he trails off, one hand waving vaguely in front of himself. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hunk says with a shrug. And it is, of course, now that he knows nothing’s wrong. “We’re all family here.” Keith looks back over at him and blinks. 

“...we are?” He doesn’t sound upset, just bewildered.

“Aren’t we?” Hunk asks, and thinks he’s probably just as confused as Keith is. He’s pretty sure there isn’t a better word for the five of them -- seven really -- than family at this point, considering. 

“I…” Keith trails off and picks up his tablet again, and Hunk shrugs as he goes back to his notes. He’s just worked out what he thinks would be an ideal ending point of temperature for the yalmor fat in the biscuits and has started to factor in the ambient temperature of the kitchen to know where it needs to start when Keith speaks again, so quietly he’s not sure he’s supposed to hear. “I guess we are.” Hunk nods without adding anything to that, still mostly focused on the numbers in front of him. Keith shrugs and leans to the side again, tentatively resting his head against Hunk’s shoulder. 

“This okay?” That question he knows is meant for him to hear, and Hunk nods again without really looking up.

“‘Course,” he says. 

As he finishes writing out the new procedure for his biscuits, Hunk slowly becomes aware that Keith’s body is vibrating softly against him. He frowns, almost opening his mouth to speak, and then closes it as he looks down and realizes the vibrating is accompanied by a quiet rumbling sound, and Keith is out like a light.

“He’s purring,” says a voice, and Hunk looks up to see Pidge leaning against the doorway to the lounge, carrying her tablet in one hand and a shoebox-sized container under her other arm. 

“He can do that?” Hunk asks. “That’s…” 

“Something he’s done for a long time,” Pidge says with a shrug. “He makes a lot of noises, if you listen for them -- extraverbal communication and all that. I noticed the trend a while ago -- that his tends to be cat-adjacent.” Hunk thinks back over the past several months and nods slowly. 

“Yeah, I guess he does. I never really thought about them being cat noises...thought they were just, I don’t know --” it’s Hunk’s turn to wave his hand vaguely in front of himself, carefully avoiding moving the side Keith’s leaning on “-- him noises.” Pidge shrugs again and crosses to sit on the couch on his other side, the shoebox thing between them. “What is that, anyway?” 

“Couple of broken communicators. I’m pretty sure they’re just old Altean walkie-talkies,” she says, lifting the lid so he can see two sleek white things that look like exactly that. “The thing that’s cool is they don’t use the same long-range frequencies as our suit communicators or the intercom. As far as I can tell, they’re just run-of-the-mill handheld two-way radios -- maximum communication distance should be something like five miles, but it seems like they might come in handy if I can figure out how to reload their power source..” 

“Nice,” Hunk says, looking them over and taking in the dual antennae and impossibly delicate-looking speakers. "Do they not just run on quintessence…?"

"Oh, they do," she says, nodding rapidly, Hunk assumes to offset how low they're still keeping their voices. "It’s just not in a form I’ve seen before, and I’m not sure how to recharge them, or really how they discharge." She flips one of the units over as she's speaking to show him a little catch on the back, which she slides open to reveal what looks like a small bag full of translucent blue gel -- it reminds Hunk more than anything of those little packs of dishwasher soap, but nearly drained. 

"Oh, wild," he breathes, careful not to let his shoulders move and jostle Keith. "Is that like...quintessence goop?" 

"Looks like it! How they got it in this form is still a mystery, though, and I think I'm well past having the level of focus I'd need to figure it out -- nearly fell asleep in the lab. I thought the change of scenery might help, or you might have some ideas, but..." She glances over at Keith -- head still resting on Hunk's shoulder, arms folded in front of his chest, and soundly asleep -- almost longingly. Hunk grins. 

"Tell you what -- why don't you get some rest and let me think on it?" 

"You sure?" She asks, stifling a yawn. 

"Yeah, I’m sure. You deserve a break, kid.” She grumbles a bit at that, but when he moves the box to the floor and picks up his tablet again, she doesn’t object. Instead, she faces the door and curls up against the back of the couch, resting her head on top of it. It doesn’t look like an entirely comfortable position, but Hunk shrugs and pulls up the data they’ve collected about the different matter forms of quintessence so far. 

Halfway through reading about its liquid form, however, he’s interrupted by a highly irritated-sounding Lance, who’s standing in front of him having apparently just come from the pool, if the combination of the smell of chlorine and his wet hair is any indication. 

“Oh, sure, no one bother telling me we’re taking a group nap, just don’t try --” he breaks off into a yawn, and Hunk takes the opportunity to shush him as emphatically as he can considering the sleeping forms on either side of him, but Lance continues just as indignantly as soon as he can draw a normal breath. “Don’t try to include Lance; he doesn’t need to know about local comfy gathering, more at 11!” His hands are on his hips, glare so sharp it could probably cut glass.

“Shush,” Hunk stage whispers, holding up his one free arm and trying not to laugh and disturb the others by shaking. “This wasn’t exactly a plan.” Lance narrows his eyes even further, looking down at the shoebox-y container on the floor. 

“Then why did you guys move things off the couch, hmm?” he asks, and Hunk is just glad he’s brought his voice down a bit. “Checkmate!” Apparently it’s not quiet enough, though, since Pidge stirs, mumbling something about a crick in her neck. And resettles facing toward Hunk instead, all without opening her eyes or taking her glasses off. 

“Lance, buddy, you are welcome to join us,”  he says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Lance’s mouth is already half-open to continue his tirade, but he stops and closes it, blinking. 

“Yeah, that’s...probably better,” he says slowly. “I’m pretty beat.” He plops down onto the couch between Hunk and Pidge, where there’s barely enough space even for him. Pidge grumbles half into Lance’s shoulder and shoves him slightly toward Hunk, who lifts his arm to wrap it around him so he can still get to his tablet. Lance settles against Hunk’s side and yawns once, eyes already closed. 

“Wake me if there’s breakfast.” 

“I can do that,” Hunk says, fumbling a bit as he gets his screen back in front of him. He didn’t notice exactly when Pidge decided that his bicep made a better pillow than the back of the couch, but she’s wrapped onto his arm now, her glasses balanced somewhat precariously where her head was resting before. “I can do that.” 

[thedistantstorm]

Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 11

Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

This time: Late night cuddles and contemplation.

-/

Amanda wakes to the sound of thunder, the slap of rain against the glass windows. Her gasp is muffled by the rolling boom, the flash of lightning making her bolt upright in surprise. She’s not terribly afraid of thunderstorms, but the added stimulation is only nightmare fuel for the terrors that beckoned in her dreams tonight. Her exhale is a frantic one, though it does not make much sound.

She hears a zooming flourish to her left, and looks over to see the white-blue shimmer of Zavala’s Ghost in front of him. It evaluates him with a shift of its segments and tuts something almost mothering.

“You’re a mess,” The Ghost drones gently, affectionate. Her voice is regal sounding. Another whoosh and a delicate spin later, the crochet hooks that had slumped against his chest as he’d fallen - and stayed, for once - asleep disappear along with the blanket he’d been working on with a shimmer of Light. She drifts down and nudges the lever on the reclining chair with her whole body. “Thank the Traveler someone thought to replace that awful plastic chair,” She muses as the lever slowly activates. Once he’s reclined, she transmats a blanket over him, quicker than the flash of lightning that paints the sky outside.

Baby blue eyes peer over the rail of the bed, watching him sleep in long, slow breaths. He looks peaceful, Amanda thinks, curling in on herself.

“Hello, sweetheart,” The Ghost says, when she shifts and grimaces a few minutes later. “I was hoping you’d go back to sleep. No luck?”

Amanda sighs. “Bad dreams,” She admits softly. “You Zavala’s Ghost?” The girl already knew that she was, but it seemed like it was only right to ask.

The white of her shell spins quick. “I am. Want to talk about it?”

She pulls the pillow from behind her back and wraps her arms around it. “I’m ok,” She tells the little bot.

“Want me to wake up the big guy?”

“No, y’just got ‘em comfy,” She tells the Ghost, confused. “That’d be mean.”

“He’d be more upset if he finds out I didn’t wake him,” Shiori floats up to eye-level with the bed-bound child. “He’s a worry-wart, you know.”

“I know,” Amanda answers, soft. “I’ll be okay.” A flicker of lightning makes her tense up, squeezing the pillow hard as the thunder crackles, close and loud.

The Ghost doesn’t give up. “Why don't you get comfortable,” She instructs, changing tactics. “How about I tell you a story?”

“But…” The child looks bewildered. “We ain’t got any books.”

“I can download any book you want, but I know plenty of stories.”

“What’s Zavala read?” She asks, repositioning herself with a tiny grunt. It's clear she's uncomfortable, but it's hard to be anything else with her injury.

Shiori sets to casually drawing the shades, by catching their pulls in the joints of her shell, basking the room in darkness. Her fins push out with a pale glow that doesn’t bother the child or wake her partner. “He likes poetry. Shakespeare. History,” She informs Amanda.

“Sounds like school,” Amanda says.

Shiori laughs, and it sounds like a bell. “Close to it, sweet girl.” She looks at the child. “Cozy?”

Amanda nods, flapping one of the blankets to cover her better. Though she never flailed around a lot in her sleep, they always got so tangled. “What kinda story?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

The girl yawns. “Somethin’ happy,” She suggests. “Animal stories end happy.”

“I think I can work with that,” The Ghost says, making an array of muted rippling sounds while she searches her databanks and consults the City archives.

With the thunder yielding, Amanda falls back to sleep to the elegant drone of Shiori's voice and the pitter-patter of rain against the windows. Zavala wakes, hours later, to a dark room and the small light that is his Ghost, clutched in both of the girl's hands, making soft sounds when the girl fusses and frowns in her sleep.

"Not a word," Shiori whispers.

Zavala blinks, their blue gazes meeting. "I'm not saying anything," He replies.

"You're thinking plenty." 

"Aren't I always?"

"Fair,” She supposes, with a brief chuckle. “This is a rather compromising position for me. You know I don't like being touched."

"I do."

Shiori phases through Amanda's hands in motes of light. The girl groans and clenches her fingers, clearly noticing the loss. "Scooch over, sweetheart," She tells the girl. Her eyes blink open once and stay closed, asleep, but impressionable. She listens, flopping over. "It's okay."

The Ghost flits to Zavala, who looks bewildered. "Oh, for Light's sake, Zavala, hold her."

"But-"

"Zavala. If I can let her cuddle me, you can certainly comfort her, too. You are far less averse to human contact and dare I say it: more cuddly."

"I suppose," He says, mind spiraling away to thoughts of perception, and how it's hardly appropriate, considering his position.

"Calm down," The Ghost chirps. "She's sick. You're comforting her. There's nothing embarrassing about this. It's a kindness this little one sorely needs." She pauses. "It's something to get used to. Kids are…" She shudders, "Tactile."

"You keep saying that like it's a done deal," Zavala murmurs, barely audible in the silent room. Even so, he's lowering the side rail of the bed to slide in beside her. The second he's committed, both feet leaving solid ground, she's curling up into his side like a kitten, making some baby-soft sound.

He looks uncomfortable for the first moment, still overthinking. But then he's reminded of the way she'd clambered over him, that first time they'd really met, half asleep and longing for that feeling of safety that he very obviously provided. Was that terribly different?

No, he realizes, plucking her up gently, mindful of the few cords still attached to her, and the wrap around her stump. She settles against his chest with a sigh, humming something he can't understand before unconsciously settling her ear against his heart, reassured by its steady beat. One impossibly small hand covers the single arm he's wrapped around her.

It dawns on him: This is no different. There is an immediate difference in the room with her in his arms. The heart monitor dulls to a quiet blip that's softer than the tiny snores that come from the girl. She's warm and soft, soothing. It feels… right, Zavala thinks. He wants to console her, to chase away that which threatens to upset or harm her. 

"She's already ours," Shiori whispers, looking down at the pair, sometime later. Zavala doesn't hear her, that's how single-minded his focus is, stroking Amanda's cheek and looking down at her in undeniable adoration. "Whether you realize it yet or not."

The Commander might not be paying attention to his Ghost’s late-night musings, but he’s thinking about the possibilities. About what the Speaker said about wants and needs, and how they align. He knows that despite how awkward he feels when the nurse comes in, audibly expressing her elation with a comment of how cute they are, or how Ikora might feel about him taking in a child, when he gets down to it, none of it really matters. It might bother him in anticipation or hindsight, but in that moment, the awkwardness or self-consciousness, his position, none of it really matters. He wants to put her first. Even if he knows it will be difficult, there will be conflict, and even if he ultimately feels like he has no idea what he’s doing, he still wants to try.

Zavala does not sleep for the rest of the night. He deliberates, going through the doubts in his mind. When the matron arrives in the morning, he asks her, “How do I begin the process?” 

Karena smiles.

[seungminty]

For granted //Jisung

words: 2.1k

genre: a n g s t 

It’s 1am and I’m trash for angst and Jisung, enjoy.

-mads <3

part 2

Friday, 11:54pm

I sighed when I saw the time as I checked my phone yet again. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I mindlessly clicked on another episode of Brooklyn 99, snuggling deeper into my blanket in an attempt to distract myself from the tears that were slowly gathering at the corners of my eyes. Jisung had said he would facetime me after rehearsals, but after 4 hours of radio silence, I was quickly losing hope. 

Not like I should be surprised.

This had become a regular occurrence in our relationship throughout the past few months; I’d plan dates, he’d cancel them. We’d hang out, he’d work the whole time. We’d argue, he’d come back a few days later, full of flowers and apologies, and I’d fall for him all over again. 

Don’t get me wrong, of course I knew that dating an idol would bring challenges, especially since Stray Kids were so well-known, as well as being self-producing. And for a while, we actually made it work. Yeah, Jisung worked most of the time, but I was also busy with college and my waitressing job. However, we always found time for each other, even if it was just Jisung popping into the cafe to give me lunch, or a pizza night with the boys. 

So yeah, I knew it would be hard, just not... not this hard. 

It wasn't like he’d gotten busier, he was always busy, so was I, but he just didn't make the effort anymore. Every time he cancelled on me to hang with the boys or ignored my good morning texts, my heart broke just a little bit more. We’d argue about his newfound attitude often, but it seemed to tear me apart far more than it did him. Before I could fully explain the extent of the loneliness I felt inside, he would cut me off and accuse me of being too clingy, with many insults thrown in too. He would later blame his foul words on stress, but I had heard that excuse so many times I didn't know what to believe anymore. One thing was certain, though, Jisung had changed. We had changed. I wasn't a priority anymore, and it was destroying me. 

 There had always been a small part of me that still believed this was just a phase, that we could go back to the old us. But I soon realized that that was impossible. I knew that Jisung still loved me, and I knew that he still had a heart of gold, but I couldn't figure out for the life of me why he didn't want to invest time in us anymore.

I guess we're just on different paths now. 

I was suddenly pulled from my depressing train of thought by my phone. Jisung’s name on my phone screen had become such a rare sight that I stared at my lock screen for several seconds before actually reading the text.

Sorry went to the studio after practice and lost track of time.

The studio. That damn studio. 

It was once a place filled up with happy memories, memories of Jisung giddily showing me a hook he’d finally perfected, or lyrics that he’d say I inspired him to write, which always caused both our cheeks to tint pink.

But now, it was the place my boyfriend chose over me, time and time again. I always admired his passion for music, and the last thing I wanted was to be one of those annoying girlfriends who want their boyfriend to only ever spend time with her, but was it really so bad that I wanted my boyfriend to make me feel important every once in a while?

These were the thoughts circulating in my head as I quickly pulled on my shoes and walked out the door towards the studio. By this point, I was so hurt and confused, I didn't have the faintest idea of what I was going to say to Jisung, I just knew that I had to see him. I had to make the pain stop.

I arrived at the studio sooner than I had expected, and a quick glance at the clock above the desk in the darkened reception area revealed that it was a little past 1am.

Wow, what a fun way to be spending your Friday night, y/n.

I sighed as I stood outside his studio door, doing my best to prepare myself for what was to come, whatever the hell that was.

Eventually, I plucked up the courage to open the door, and it creaked open agonisingly slowly to reveal a mop of tangled blonde hair, slumped at a mixing board. I walked up to him, thinking he was asleep, and was about to wake him up when he suddenly spun around towards me, eyes wide and mouth agape, clearly startled by my visit.

“Hey” he stated, his voice deep with exhaustion.

“Oh, hey” I managed to breathe out, my mouth had become dry the moment I walked in, like my subconscious knew that something big was going to go down tonight. 

We remained in an awkward silence for a while, none of us knowing how to react to this new dynamic. Life was Jisung was never quiet, ever. 

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. 

I looked him properly in the eyes for the first time that night, and I couldn't hide the puzzled expression on my face.

“Oh...uh, what for? It was just a facetime call, no biggie.”

No biggie? Really? Not like you wallowed in your sadness while finishing off a whole damn tub of ice cream, y/n.

Jisung looked even more shocked than me now, shaking his head and laughing lightly before speaking again.

“Oh, ok that’s fine then. Thought I missed a date or something like that. So how come you’re here then, shouldn’t you be asleep?”.

Even though I had played it off as nothing earlier, I still felt my heart sink at his statement. There was a time when Jisung would've apologised a hundred times over for forgetting to text me goodnight, now he’s so distant he doesn’t even really know what he’s apologising for.

“I, I uh, I just wanted to see you, and I don’t know, have a chat about stuff?” My words came out more like a question, and I cringed at how awkward it sounded. Jisung sighed, running his hands down his face.

“I guess, but I’ve still got this guide track to finish and its getting late, maybe some other time yeah?” He said, already turning back round in his chair.

“No, Jisung, I need to talk, and you need to listen to me,” I stated, my voice so loud that it startled both of us. 

“Right... Y-yeah sure y/n, um... what’s up?” He gulped, wide-eyed and still taken aback by my tone. I was never really one to raise my voice, but I was desperate now, trying to stitch up our fractured love before it disappeared forever.

But then, I realised. I don't think there’s any love left to fix.

I took a deep breath, trying my hardest to steel my nerves before saying the words I vowed I never would.

“Ji, this isn’t working. We... we aren’t working anymore.”

Those words hung Over the silent room like a thick black veil, suffocating me, and as I hesitantly looked at Jisung, it seemed like they were suffocating him too. He was frozen, staring at the ground in shock, before jerking his head up to search my face with panicked eyes as his hands began to shake.

“I-I... no, you can’t... we’re not, it’s fine-” He spluttered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. I watched with pained eyes as the man I loved unravelled before me, and it was all my fault.

His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to actually say anything, I began to speak, doing my best not to burst into tears.

“Things are just different now. You’re always so busy and that’s great, I'm so so proud of you, but there just isn't enough room for me in your life anymore. We never hang out, and when we do we just argue. And I'm sorry, but I just can't take it anymore, I can't take anymore cancelled dates or ignored messages, because it's destroying me, Jisung. And yes, maybe I am just weak and clingy, but I've got to put myself first for once because god-fucking-damn it Jisung, I've been so sad for so fucking long, and my own boyfriend has no idea!” By the end of my speech, I was nearly screaming, and I quickly realised that the dampness on my cheeks was from the many tears that were now uncontrollably cascading down my face. 

Now, the only sounds in the room were my slight panting and the occasional sniffle. Jisung remained unblinking, still frozen in the same position. It wasn't until I shook my head and turned towards the door that he reached forward and grabbed my arm.

“No!” he shouted, panic clear in his voice. I looked at him, he too, had tears streaming down now, the sight making what was left of my poor heart shatter.

“No... you can’t leave, I’m sorry ok? Really sorry. I-I took you for granted. You were always by my side so I guess I thought you’d stay there forever, because I honestly can’t imagine my world without you in it y/n, standing right next to me. I know I’m a shit boyfriend, and hearing how hurt you are because... because of me, kills me more than you’ll ever know. Honestly, this comeback had me feeling stressed out and down I didn't know what to do, but now I realise, that the only thing that could've made me feel happy again.. was you. Of course it was you. You are my heaven y/n, and I swear I’ll never desert you again. I’m such a fucking idiot, I was so sad that I pushed you away, even though you're the only one who can make me happy.” He laughed bitterly, but his expression quickly reverted to fear as he saw me shaking my head, tears still endlessly falling. 

“I’m sorry Jisung... but I just can’t fall for your apologies again. My heart can’t take any more of this, but I'm sure you'll find a-a nice girl... maybe an idol, someone who’s pretty and isn't so weak that they fall apart like me.” I began to walk away again, determined not to turn back again, in fear that I’d break down even further. 

Behind me, Jisung was really panicking now. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He knew hed been a shitty boyfriend. But he thought that soon he’d feel less stressed and everything would go back to normal. They were Jisung and y/n, they were madly in love and everyone knew it, they couldn’t just break up like this. It was only when I had reached for the door handle did he react. 

“Angel, please.”

I hesitated at those words. 

 Angel. Even thinking of his pet name for me made me want to break down. It reminded me of happier times, when we were so in love we felt we were invincible, a feeling that was all but a distant memory now. 

Against my better judgment, I turned round to see Jisung slumped on the floor on his knees, head bowed and body shaking with sobs. 

I knew what I had to do. I knew what was best, for both of us. 

“I love you Jisung, and know that I’ll always be cheering you on, always.”

I took one last look at the boy who held my heart so tightly that he’d crushed it, before moving to the door, shutting it quietly behind me.

 FIN.

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Sex Contract - Chapter 9

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 9 – Changmin’s POV.

Changmin let Kaia into the apartment and frowned instantly, the scolding he was going to give her for wasting so much time left his mind as soon as he saw her expression. Instead, he grabbed her and led her over to the couch, helping her sit down.

“Is everything okay?”

She nodded distantly but otherwise didn’t reply.

“You don’t seem okay, in fact you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he pointed out, poking her arm gently. She didn’t even flinch and Changmin became concerned. Getting up from the couch, he went over to the kitchen and turned on the jug to boil some hot water. Collecting two cups from inside the cupboard he prepared the hot chocolates, in hopes the sugar would brighten her up without the effect of caffeine. He brought the drinks back over to where Kaia sat and placed them down on the coffee table.

The sound seemed to bring her out of her thoughts. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, but I made you a hot chocolate. You should drink it,” Changmin urged and the girl nodded, reaching forward for the cup and just held it. She fell back out of awareness and he wondered what she was overanalysing. He was somewhat an impatient person, and he wanted to help Kaia with her problem instead of wait for her to figure it out.

“Changmin, is it very easy for a person who doesn’t work for an Entertainment company to date an idol?” she eventually asked and he blinked a couple times at her question before shaking his head.

“You should know by now Kai, given you work in Entertainment news that it’s quite hard. It’s why most idols have relationships with each other or the people they work with.” Changmin placed his mug down and scooted closer to the caramel haired girl. “Why, what have you discovered?”

“N-nothing, I just wondered if a relationship like the one I just pointed out could stay off the radar well.”

He contemplated her statement. “Depends on the fame of the star. For someone in a less known position, it could be quite possible. But for someone such as myself, it’s barely possible to have a female friend, let alone date a girl without the whole world knowing. I’m just thankful no one has seen you as a potential partner or this entire agreement would become the most lethal operation in destroying my career.”

“Couldn’t that happen if news comes out about it?” she asked and then stared down at the beverage in her hand. “Could I end your career?”

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning closer to the girl and lightly bumping her so he didn’t spill her drink. “Why are you thinking so seriously, hm? What got you like this? Do you know someone who is dating a famous person now?”

She shook her head. “It mustn’t have been who I thought it was, because like you said, that would be nearly impossible.”

“You’ve sparked my curiosity now. Who exactly did you think you saw?”

“Junsu,” she mentioned and Changmin froze. “I uh, mean the Junsu from two pm of course ha-ha!”

He glanced at the girl who diverted her gaze, taking a gulp of her drink and then squealing because she had burnt her tongue. Changmin couldn’t help but chuckle at the awkward move and pulled Kaia’s head around so he could examine the damage. It didn’t look that bad. He smirked. “You’re so clumsy at times.”

“I didn’t think that through very well,” she agreed and then smiled, seeming to be stepping out of her thoughts. “So uh, I’m guessing you have to get back to work soon. Sorry, I wasted the time.”

“I’m not worried, I kind of miss just hanging out,” he told her honestly and she nodded her head. “I like where we’re at though too, I feel I’ve learnt a lot about you lately.”

“Like?” she wondered and Changmin chuckled again. “Hey, don’t you start teasing me. I came here on my lunch break and haven’t even eaten yet. I even gave up sushi for you.”

“So let’s order sushi then,” he proposed, glancing at his watch and faltering when he saw the time. She was right; Changmin was expected back at work in less than half an hour. He cringed lightly. “Can I order sushi for you?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll just get something on the way back to the office. Though if I’m honest, I don’t feel all that good. Do you have any medication I could take Min?” she asked, rubbing her neck and he eyed the girl with fresh concern, nodding his head and got up.

“Just wait here, I’ll get you some.” He headed into his bedroom and to the en-suite, looking in the cabinet for some medicine. Finding the box he required, Changmin went back out to the living room but frowned when she was nowhere in sight. “Kaia?”

There was no response, and he noticed her bag was still on the counter where she left it. Going over to where he left the girl, Changmin found her sound asleep on the couch. Smiling at her, he looked around before deciding to hoist the girl up. Changmin knew how uncomfortable it was to fall asleep on that couch. She surprisingly didn’t stir awake as he carried her down to his room, gently placing her on the bed and pulling the blankets up over her.

“You must be truly exhausted,” he murmured and stood back to his full height, glancing at his friend and then put the box of medicine on the bedside table. Jotting Kaia a quick note telling her to let herself out when she woke up, Changmin quietly stepped out of the room and headed out back to work.

“And so Minho said to me about some soccer match that he and Donghae, with a few trainees, have planned in two days. I was completely annoyed, of course, they plan things when we’re not in Korea,” Yunho mentioned as they both entered the apartment later that evening, exhausted from practice.

“Why are you complaining, Minho will be coming to Japan whilst we’re there. I’m sure if you time it well you could meet up for something.”

Yunho nodded and then stopped after turning on the lights. “Did Kaia come over today?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did she forget her bag?” he continued to enquire and Changmin frowned, noting the handbag still in the same place it had been earlier. He stepped around Yunho and headed down to his bedroom, opening the door and stopped in his tracks. Kaia was still in the bed and seemed to be asleep. His breath was caught in his chest as he went over to her side and reached to feel her head. The action was enough to stir her and she opened her eyes, blinking a few times.

“How come you’re still here?” Changmin asked softly, crouching down as Kaia sat up in the bed. She looked around herself and coughed. “Are you ill?”

“My throat hurts a little.”

“Just wait here,” he told her and went down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Yunho was in there and looked at Changmin with concern. “She mustn’t have woken up when I left her here. She’s been asleep for at least nine hours now.”

“Sounds like she needed to sleep. Do you need a hand?”

He shook my head and smiled at the man before heading back down to the bedroom. Passing the bottle to Kaia, she drank some of it before coughing again. Changmin offered her the medication and she took it before slumping back down on the bed.

“Changmin-ah,” she said and he glanced at her. “I don’t think I have the energy to move. What time is it?”

“Eleven.”

“Ugh, okay.” She hung her head and then tried to heave herself to the side of the bed. Changmin gently stopped her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She looked at him tiredly. “Home. I don’t want to make you sick.”

“Well, you’ve already slept in my bed so I’m pretty sure I’ll catch it regardless. Though I am really fit so don’t worry about me, I’m more concerned about you. Which means you’re not leaving.”

“But-”

He shook his head firmly. “I have to wake up at three anyway to fly to Japan early. So don’t worry too much. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“Yes please,” she said and resigned herself to his aid. Changmin helped her in so she could use the room and then took her back to bed, assisting her in removing her jacket and pants so she was more comfortable. He then took off his own unneeded layers and flicked off the light, climbing onto the bed and snuggling into his pillows.

Everything was silent for a moment and he glanced over his shoulder at Kaia, the girl staring up at the ceiling. He chuckled and turned to face her. “Problem?”

“We haven’t exactly shared a bed on purpose yet,” she announced and he laughed again at her worries. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“We fell asleep after playing Fifa that one time at five in the morning, how is this any different? Besides, I’ve had more than enough sex with you now to not need to make a move. Sleep well Kai, I’ll see you if you wake up when I do.”

“I guess you’re right, night Min.” She sighed and then nestled into the pillow, closing her eyes and instantly drifting off.

Changmin found himself cat napping like he usually did when he knew the alarm was set for an odd time, and every time he woke up, he looked over at Kaia sleeping to make sure she was okay. It was a different experience and he enjoyed it, wondering if he would have felt any more satisfied than he did now, had they enjoyed some intimacy together before his trip to Japan. It made him realise that whilst he liked the arrangement a great deal, there definitely needed to be some changes when he got back home.

But for now, Changmin enjoyed the idea of sharing his bed with his best friend. Though he couldn’t put his finger on the reason, he knew he would miss her a great deal whilst in Japan this time.

_________________

Part 10

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[irrevocably-delicious]

Hey you guys wanna preview of that soulmate au I’m working on?

Anyway here’s the first ~3000 words. This is gonna be a long fic.

Hope you guys enjoy the direction this is going

Keith feels his eyes blink awake as he’s suddenly aware of how uncomfortably warm it is in his bedroom and how the skin of his thighs stick together. He rolls over and groans. His knees pop. He reaches for his phone to check the time.

 11:12 am

 He sighs feeling disappointed in himself. He used to get up and run 10km before 7am, but his night classes are now taking their toll. He tosses his phone to the side and that’s when he sees it. Written in what looks like blue pen, in fine, scratchy, writing, three words are written across the back of his left hand.

 Eggs

Milk

Rice

 He squints at the words. Was I supposed to buy these? He thinks. They’re clearly a shopping list of some sort, a kind of reminder, but Keith has no memory of writing down the list. He also has no memory of needing any of these ingredients. He had always been a restless sleeper, perhaps he had written it in the middle of the night in a bout of sleepy inspiration?

 Keith pays it no mind and decides to finally begin his day. He hops into the shower and relishes the feeling of shedding his layer of night sweat. He feels even better when he takes a handful of body wash and begins lathering up his body. This is when he notices the second peculiar thing about the note on his hand.

 It doesn’t come off. Not only does it not come off, but it doesn’t fade or bleed or even smudge. The note looks exactly like a plain blue ballpoint pen, but it behaves like its tattooed onto Keith’s skin.

 Keith rubs at the note more aggressively. His nails scratch at his skin, hoping it’ll lift up, when he pauses. His eyes narrow on the note as realization hits.

“I’m fucking lactose intolerant.” He scoffs.

 The note haunts Keith for the rest of the day. He wishes he could let it go, but upon further investigation things just start to get odder.

 He has no memory of writing the note. He’s lactose intolerant, so there would never be a need to buy milk, and now Keith is pretty sure that the handwriting isn’t even his. He’s sitting at the dining room table rewriting the words “eggs milk rice” over and over again, trying to compare them to the one on his hand. He supposes he could have possibly written this? Maybe if he was half asleep and his motor skills were off? But the g’s look dramatically different and the lowercase k is all wrong. He groans.

 “Studying?” Shiro walks in and seems impressed at the image of his little brother surrounded by paper with what looks like notes on them.

“Shiro, do I sleep walk?” Keith blurts. Shiro blinks at the odd outburst. He pauses for a moment until he registers the question he has just been asked.

“Ah I mean…” He scratches the side of his cheek in thought. “Maybe? I dunno. You’ve always been a pretty light sleeper. Generally once you’re awake, you’re fully awake.”

Keith pouts and Shiro sees that this is not the answer he was looking for.

“But sleeping habits change all the time, so you never know. Like it’s common for people who maybe slept really heavy as kids to get more sensitive when they’re older.”

 Keith nods, but the wrinkle between his brows does not go away.

 He manages to pull his focus from his hand for the rest of the night. His night classes are tiring, but they work wonders in distracting him. Keith collapses in bed at the end of the night and doesn’t remember his hand until he’s in the shower again. He breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that it has faded. It still doesn’t smudge in the shower, but at least it looks like it will not be permanent.

 The note is almost completely gone by evening. Only shreds of letters remain in faint blue. Keith lounges on the couch, judging Shiro as he plays his video game and his character falls off another ledge.

“You can jump on your hat remember.”

“Fuck, no, I always forget that.”

“Or you know, just get better at hitting x. That’s literally all this is.” Keith smirks. Shiro elbows him in the ribs. Keith pushes him back.

 “Next time you die I…” But Keith can’t finish his thought. Because there, written on his hand in fresh ink, on top of the last note that has not quite completely gone away, are new words.

 Piano recital 6:30

 “Next time I what?” Shiro asks. Keith can barely hear over the pulse in his ears.

“I gotta pee.” He slurs out. His footsteps betray his panic in how quickly they rush across the floor. Shiro stares after him with concern.

 Keith crashes into the bathroom with labored breathing. He stares at the note. His head is full of screaming questions.

I’ve been awake this whole time, how did this happen? I didn’t write this… did I?! No! I would remember! Also I DON’T KNOW ANYONE WHO PLAYS THE PIANO!

 He shoves his hand underneath the tap and begins to scrub. Hard. He scrubs until his skin is raw and dry, but the blue words remain as fresh as ever. He stares at the note in defeat, his gut growing cold.

 Keith is scared.

 Over the next few weeks more notes appear. All of them are in that same scratchy writing. All of them impossible to remove, but seem to fade of their own accord. Most appear on his hand, but several appear on his forearm and palm. Sometimes it looks like ink stains his fingers.

 Remember permission slip

Cake pan 4 Hunk

Pick up Lisa

Get Tony’s cake

Uniform money

 Each note references an event or even a person that Keith does not know. He doesn’t have a uniform, and definitely no permission slips since he was expelled. Who the hell is Lisa? These words start to make Keith less afraid, but they being to feel otherworldly. Like something is trying to reach out to him. He sees glimpses into a life that is not his.

 Children’s drawings appear on his arm. Or at least he hopes it was drawn by a child. The classic square house with a triangle roof. Several crude looking human figures. A scribble that could be a dog. These make Keith the most nervous and curious.

 Keith rolls out of bed one morning and holds his arm above his eyes to survey what damage may have been done during the night. It’s become a habit by now. Wake up, look at arm, stare in frustration at any new notes, contemplate their meaning, wonder if he’s crazy, acceptance.

 This morning Keith gasps. His eyes roam over his arm to see that it is completely covered. Any bare skin that was left has now been marked with fresh notes and doodles, while old notes on his hand and wrist are just beginning to fade. His entire arm is a smattering of marker and pen, and some drawings have even made their way over to his other arm. Some are just swirls, while others are flowers or what looks to be a coding language. There’s a particularly large cupcake on his bicep with the words “Hunky cakes” written underneath it.

 Keith is horrified. He dresses in a long sleeved shirt even though it’s a particularly warm spring morning. Keith curses global warming as he tries to make himself a chilly breakfast smoothie. He goes about his day, running to the grocery store and working on some readings for his classes, whilst trying to keep his core temperature from climbing dangerously high. He wears shorts and ties his hair up, before he starfishes on the ground.

 When Shiro comes home from a long day of running tutorials he crashes on the couch next to Keith.

“Long day?”

“They’re so stupid.” Shiro whines. It’s one of his more common phrases these days. It’s not unusual for him to burst into Keith’s room late at night, brandishing some student’s essay that he’s marking, and start screeching “What the fuck?! What the fuck?! They’re so stupid! I told them so many times…. How do they…?! How do they not swallow their tongues in their sleep?!”.

 “Sorry,” Keith chuckles at his brother slumped next to him. “At least you don’t have any first years next semester.”

“I guess. But then I get angry at my students because they should know better.”

Shiro picks himself up by leaning on Keith, but visibly grimaces when he makes contact.

 “Ugh, bro you’re so hot.” He wipes his hand on his pants. Now that he’s close to Keith he can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. It’s making him uncomfortable, so he can’t imagine how Keith feels.

 “Jesus, why are you wearing this shirt? You should get changed.”

“I’m fine.” Keith shrugs. Shiro had felt that Keith’s shirt was damp with sweat. Hardly fine.

“At least push up your sleeves…” Shiro touches the cuffs of Keith’s sleeve, but Keith’s hand snaps down on top of his. He snatches his arm away.

“I said I’m fine.” He snaps.

 Shiro’s eyebrows rise in concern. Keith knows he’s fucked up now.

“Roll up your sleeves.” Shiro says. It’s not a request anymore.

“I don’t want to. I’m not hot.”

“Yes you are. Now roll up your sleeves and show me your arms.” Shiro shifts his body in a way that shows his brother that he is prepared to use force. He plants both feet firmly on the ground.

 Keith, troubled younger brother with a history of abandonment and anxiety problems understands Shiro’s concern. He knows what Shiro is thinking. Lord knows he displays the symptoms, but he can’t tell him the truth.

 “I’m not hurting myself.” Keith replies weakly.

“Then show me.”

Keith’s mouth hardens into a scowl.

 He holds up his hands to push back, but Shiro is too fast. His larger hand wraps easily around Keiths slender wrist, and even though Keith scratches at his hands and protests, he still feels his sleeve easily wrenched upwards. Shiro stills.

“What the…?” His eyes roam over the markings on Keith’s arms.

 They’re confusing, but harmless. He tries to read the notes, but doesn’t seem to understand the references to people or events that have no place in Keith’s life.

“What is this?” His tone is gentle. He releases Keith’s arm with an apologetic look.

“I don’t know!” Keith snaps. The stress and fear that had been simmering underneath his surface for weeks bursts forth. He’s terrified, but there’s a weird sense of relief that someone else knows now. That maybe someone else might believe him.

 “They just started appearing. Sometimes during the night, sometimes during the day. I can’t wash them off no matter what I do, but over time they do seem to fade.” Keith’s words are erratic.

“I don’t know who… who any of these people are!” He points at a note on his elbow. This one is in different handwriting that reads Katie was here.

Shiro pulls his arm close and inspects the notes closer. He also doesn’t recognize the names. His eyes ghost over one note that makes him gasp. It’s more faded but the words are unmistakable.

Get Dad’s dry-cleaning.

 “Keith… you definitely didn’t write these.” He admits.

“Yes thank you, I know that. My handwriting isn’t even the same. Believe me I’ve tested it.” With his secret out, Keith tears off his shirt in a huff. The fresh air against his sweaty body immediately makes him feel better.

“No I mean… I think someone else is writing these…” Shiro goes on. Keith continues to scowl.

 “I think this might be your soul link, Keith.”

Keith lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Fuck.” He slumps forward. “I was afraid of that.”

“What? No Keith this is great! This is exciting!” Shiro grabs the smaller boy’s shoulders and shakes him. Keith flops apathetically.

“Shiro, I just…”

“Have you written anything back?” Shiro beams. At least someone is thrilled.

“God no.” Keith scoffs. He pulls himself away from Shiro’s touch. Shiro sits with a shocked expression.

 “What?! Why not?!”

“Shiro!” Keith shouts. “You don’t understand. Like, I’ve gotten children’s drawings on here before! What if he’s old and has kids already? What if he’s…” He deflates.

“What if he’s already married?”

Shiro smirks.

“What if it’s not even a he?”

“Oh my god why would you even say that!?” Keith hisses and shoves his brother as he cackles into the couch cushions. Shiro lets him get in a couple of good hits. He deserves it.

 …

 Weeks pass and the notes on his arm continue to come in, but thankfully he is no longer covered. It’s back to the odd reminder on his hand, or a doodle on his wrist. Keith is thankful that he no longer has to hide them. For the first few days when Shiro would spy them he would get this know it all “You’re being unreasonable” look on his face, but now he has completely dropped it.

 Life goes on. Keith spends his days at the gym and his nights at the community college down the road trying to build up credits. He chips away at homework and punching bags, his days passing in the quiet way they always had. Shiro teaches during the day, and when their paths cross, they play video games together or go window-shopping with Matt.

 Matt crashes into their flat unannounced one night. He balances a box of a dozen donuts in one hand and a bag of ciders, soft drink and rum in the other. There’s a tube of pringles in the pocket of his jacket.

 “I just handed in the first draft of my thesis and now I need to get FUUUUCKED up!” He announces.

 Shiro and Keith stare from where they hover in the kitchen. Shiro is the first to move as he smirks. His hand reaches into the top drawer and he spins a bottle opener around on his finger.

“Right on, man.”

 After the initial congratulations, the three fall into a familiar pattern. Matt pulls out his laptop and they crowd around the coffee table, fingers greasy with pizza, and hop from vine compilation to some niche video Matt has found.

“Look at this premium content.” Matt whispers as his fingers excitedly enter new search terms.

 When they grow tired of what weirdness the internet has to offer, Shiro pulls out the videogames. They play mariokart (Matt yelling “dibs on waluigi”) but it’s around the time Shiro is playing Breath of the Wild with Matt helping him to solve a shrine puzzle, that Keith feels himself drifting off. He shouldn’t be surprised. Night school was really starting to wreak havoc with his sleep schedule. His head hits the armrest with a heavy thud and he doesn’t move for 10 minutes.

 “Dude, hey…” Matt whispers. Shiro hums in acknowledgement.

“Is Keith asleep?”

Shiro looks over his shoulder. Keith’s breathing is heavy and regular. His chest rises and crashes in a steady rhythm. Shiro chuckles.

“Aw poor little guy. He hit the wall.”

Matt starts to giggle gleefully to himself. He shuffles over to his back and pulls out a black marker.

“Punishment, punishment…” He chants under his breath. He uncaps the marker and gets close to Keith.

“Aw no, dude, no.” Shiro weakly protests, but he’s still laughing when Matt tip toes in close.

“He knows the rules! First one to fall asleep…” His hand hovers over Keith’s forehead.

“No! Dude, dude! Not the face! I’m serious, don’t.” Shiro hisses. Matt pouts a bit but understands.

“Ok ok, I’ll put it somewhere he can hide it.” He sighs.

 …

 “Morning,” Matt blearily greets Shiro as he pads to the fridge. He pulls out a gallon of orange juice and downs it straight from the bottle.

“Matt,” Shiro scowls over his coffee.

“What?” Matt wipes away his orange juice moustache. “I’m boosting your immune system. You should thank me.” He smirks.

 He starts to prepare his toast and he and Shiro fall into a comfortable silence. The room is quiet but for the quiet tinkle of Matt’s knife occasionally hitting his plate.  There’s a light breeze through the window and no one has anywhere to be for several hours.

 “WHAT THE…?!” The silence is broken. Both Matt and Shiro begin to laugh at Keith’s distant shout.

 It takes three seconds for him to come screeching in, brandishing his forearm in front of him. Matt’s crudely drawn dick covers most of the skin there.

“WHO THE FUCK DREW THIS?!” Keith is livid. His face is red.

Matt’s face matches, but it’s because he’s trying to keep in his laughter. He weakly raises his hand. Keith’s eyes are blazing.

 “MATT I WILL FUCKING-!”

“Hey, Keith, bud come on. You know the rules-“ Then Shiro’s eyes go wide. He claps a hand over his mouth and guilt rises in his throat.

“OH MY GOD I FORGOT!” He cries. “Keith, I’m so sorry! I let him-!”

“YOU FORGOT???!!” Keith’s voice pitches dangerously high.

“Just go wash it off! He may not have seen it yet!” Shiro tries to find some silver lining. Keith sprints towards the bathroom.

“IT’S NOON!” He cries behind him.

[buttsonthebeach]

prompt: smol spoon solas

Apparently Black Friday/Thanksgiving food coma day is one of two days a year when I am capable of unrepentant fluff with 0 angst! Have some domestic family fluff, including a poor sick Solas who just wants to be cuddled.

Pairing: Solavellan, post-Trespasser, reunited.

Rating: General

Note: Ellana leaves home expecting to come back to one sick child (Ashara) and instead comes back to a different one (Solas.) Fluff ensues. Set sometime around the beginning of Chapter 11 (”Dreams”) of Body of Knowledge, when Ashara is about 5.

****

Ellana would be lying if she didn’t admit she enjoyed the diplomatic trips that took her away from home for a few days. It was good to have time to herself on the journey and to spend her day focused on adult conversation and not on telling Ashara for the hundredth time that no, she could not have chocolate for lunch and no, she could not climb the bookshelf, or answering one of her thousand daily questions about bees, quilts, dwarves, or the particularly large knot on one of the wooden floorboards of their house. She loved her daughter with a fierceness that blinded her and her heart still ached every time her monthly bleeding came and she knew there was no second child - but there was something to be said for the company of other grown elves.

She did feel guilty leaving Ashara this particular time. The poor thing had a fever, and last she saw of her she was curled up in Solas’s arms, bleary-eyed and utterly inconsolable.

“I’ll be home soon, sweet one. I promise,” she said.

“But I’m sick.” Ashara’s reply came from the vicinity of Solas’s neck, with all the conviction a five-year-old could muster.

“Mamae will be home before you know it.” Solas put a hand, chilled with magic, on the nape of her neck, pushing her sweaty curls aside. Ashara sniffled and burrowed further into him.

“Will you give me a kiss good-bye?” Ellana asked, running her own hand up and down Ashara’s back. She did feel very warm. Anxiety tightened Ellana’s chest. It was surely a small cold and nothing more. Solas had all the right herbs - he was the one who made medicine whenever one of them was sick anyway, and he could use magic to keep her comfortable.

“No,” Ashara replied with a convincing amount of betrayal in her voice. Ellana’s chest tightened further.

“That’s fine, da’vhenan. I love you.”

Solas braced their daughter enough to lean down and give Ellana a kiss instead. He already looked tired. She knew what awaited him while she was gone and felt a twinge of pity mixed with relief.

“I will contact you at once if she gets any worse,” he said. “You will not be far by eluvian.”

Thankfully, there’d been no need for that. Her visit with the Orlesian marquise who wished to inspect the site of a new garrison that would be close to his own lands was an easy one, and she’d seen to some other small matters in the area during the three days she was there. If Solas had not reached out to her in dreams, it was likely because of his own exhaustion. She was happy when she walked up the short path towards their home, relieved to be back, to hold both of them again. When she opened the door she breathed in deep the smell of home and felt herself centered once more. It was good to be away and good to come back. She was lucky.

“Mamae!”

She heard Ashara’s quick step in time to put down her bag and kneel to accept her hug - which nearly knocked her over - and then to pry Ashara loose and look her over.

“You look better, love. How do you feel?”

“Good. Mamae, come see!”

She started pulling on Ellana’s hand at once and she was filled at once with trepidation. Had she gotten into the paints again, determined to be like Papae? What she found instead was the man in question, sprawled on the couch, covered in blankets and pillows of various sizes approximating a lumpy mountain peak. There were books on top of that, and then her prized stuffed nug at the very top. Solas for his part looked unusually pale, and his eyes were closed. One of his hands was pressed to his forehead.

“It’s Skyhold,” Ashara said cheerfully. “But I need to make the towers. Can we get rocks from the garden?”

At the sound of her voice, Solas stirred and opened one eye.

“You’re back.” His voice had a distinct rasp. He coughed once, hard.

“No!” Ashara said shrilly, before dissolving into worried Elvhen as she went to shore up the blankets he had disturbed with his notion. Solas, for his part, just looked at Ellana forlornly.

“Oh, vhenan,” she said with a sympathetic laugh, kneeling down by his head and putting her hand on his forehead. Sure enough, he was as warm as Ashara had been on the day she left. “When did you catch it?”

“The day after you left. She’s been fit as a fiddle, of course.” He coughed again, grimacing.

“Papae!”

“I take it this was your idea,” Ellana said. “Clever. She stays occupied and you get to take a nap.”

“In theory, yes. In practice, the foundation of Skyhold has fallen and hit me in the head twice, and its architect makes constant and impossible requisitions.”

“Are we going to the garden now?” Ashara asked, appearing at Ellana’s side.

“I am afraid we’ll have to finish building Skyhold another day. Your poor father is going straight to bed.”

Ashara was distraught until Ellana promised they would instead take a walk to the market and buy fresh food for soup, and perhaps a cake or two if the baker wasn’t sold out already. Solas gratefully shuffled off to their room, his broad shoulders slumped, without another word. He was rarely ill, and never failed to find the experience distressing in the extreme. She wasn’t at all surprised that they didn’t see him until they were back from the market and done making the soup, which Ashara carried to him on a tray with a look of absolute focus. She brought him her nug, too, insisting that it would make him feel better. He accepted her offer with a tired, fond smile that made Ellana’s eyes prickle with happiness.

“Sleep, ma’lath,” she assured him. “You’ve earned it.”

After dinner Ellana helped Ashara braid her hair, and told three bedtime stories and gave four good night kisses and then watched her count the beads on the shiny new meditation bracelet Solas had made for her while Ellana was away, until the numbers trailed off and her hand went slack. And even then she lingered, watching the rise and fall of Ashara’s chest, the sweep of her eyelashes on her freckled cheek, the little faces she made as she dreamt. She was luckier than she had any right to be, to live in this house and to be this girl’s mother.

She tiptoed around their bedroom as she readied herself for bed, assuming Solas was long since asleep. His back was turned to her. She eased slowly under the covers when she was done, grateful to be in her own bed once more, and reached out to touch Solas’s back once, lightly, just for the reassurance of his presence. He stirred, to her chagrin.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He coughed in response, and muttered something plaintive in Elvhen.

“What was that?”

“It’s so cold. Come warm me.”

Sighing, she sat up so she could feel his forehead.

“Solas, you aren’t cold. You’re burning up.”

“I feel cold.”

She rose from the bed.

“Let me get you something for the fever.”

When she returned with the medicine in question, he’d wound himself deeper into the covers, and only opened one eye in response to her voice. Then he sighed and unwound himself, accepting the potion as if it was some great indignity.

“Honestly,” she said at the face he made when he was done drinking it. “I thought I was coming home to take care of one sick child and I got another.”

“I am not a child. Now will you come and warm me?”

Even in the dark she could see the blue of his eyes - the eyes he shared with their daughter - and his soft full lips and the broad chest that still transfixed her so. It wasn’t merely that he was still so handsome that he occasionally took her breath away. It was that he was hers. That he stayed.

“Yes, ma vhenan. I will warm you.”

She returned to their bed and curled up behind him, sliding the stump of her left arm under his neck and draping her right arm over his side, then fitting their hips together so she was pressed tight against him. Their difference in height meant that her face did not quite clear his shoulder, and she left a line of kisses there that made him sigh.

“If I get sick too, I’m blaming you, and you’ll have to take care of me,” she murmured, even though she felt peace washing over her just from the warmth and nearness and smell of him. Her heart outside her chest. He took her hand.

“Gladly.”

[foreveregyptian]

cosmos, galaxies, waxing, waning, contemplation, night light, midnight, candle light, reflection, nightmare, constellations, reminder, 11-11, soothe, slumber c:

cosmos: what's one thing you wish you could say to someone you are no longer friends with? 

I hope you’re doing well, I miss you, I’d do anything to get rid of the awkwardness between us. 

galaxies: what are three things you want to do before you die?

Travel! Finish the Quran!!! Get Married!!!!! God Willing!!!!!!!!!!

waxing: what is your proudest accomplishment?

I guess when I got my blackbelt since I was part of the first set of females in our school to get them, although it seems underwhelming since most of the blackbelts in our school now are female. 

waning: what is your biggest regret?

being academically extra. 

contemplation: if you could wake up one morning and everything in your life was perfect, what would that look like?

everything i ever worried about has passed and is no longer on my mind. 

night light: who/what makes you feel safe?

long hugs from the right people, sleeping under warm blankets on a cold night, coming to my room after a long day.  

midnight: are you a different person late at night than in the early morning?

I feel like my mind is more spontaneous/funny at night. 

candle light: are you an indecisive person?

VERY. I can never decide on something new so I just tend to stick to the last thing I had. 

reflection: have you ever changed something you liked about yourself to satisfy someone else?

I probably have when i was younger and more naive, but now if the way I am isnt enough for anyone then i just dont bother with them. 

nightmare: what are you most afraid of?

Dying in a state in which I am remembered not so good, people close to me dying, not getting married, my effort towards anything ending up useless. 

constellations: who is someone you could talk to for hours and never stop?

my friends! all of my close friends. they know who they are c:

reminder: who is someone you will never forget?

My highschool vp, the lady who hugged me when I was going through a mental/social slump, my ap english teacher, to name a few.

11-11: what's something you want, but feel like you will never have?

mmmmmm pass

soothe: what's one thing that always makes you feel better when you're upset?

Remembering that if i’m going through something tough then it means God put me through it because I’m strong enough to handle it. Remembering that any struggle I go through in this life is temporary, that it reaps reward, and that God is testing me, and that God tests those He loves, and does not burden a soul more than it can bear. 

slumber: what's one thing that helps you fall asleep when it feels impossible?

I turn on Quran to listen to because I cant sleep in complete quiet. also if theres a fan on, not the air but just the hum of the fan whirring helps. 

[beatrix-franklin]

New Beginnings [Chapter 1]

For the first time in my life I have decided to dabble in the land of multi chapter fic. The majority of the sentence starters I was receiving seemed to focus on Trixie and Christopher being parents, and Trixie and Shelagh’s friendship throughout Trixie’s pregnancy. There was also interest in a full labour fic, with Shelagh as Trixie’s midwife. So i’ve decided to move away from 5 sentence fics and instead explore this fully in a multi chapter fic (still including the sentence prompts, and please send anymore, it will help drive the fic). I have no idea how many chapters this will be or if there will even be any interest but a little project like this to focus on is something I need right now so we’ll see how it goes!

[set 1964, Trixie and Christopher have been married for a year]

It was the nausea she noticed first, the sudden need to vomit as soon as the sun filtered through the curtains and awoke her from her restful slumber. The first morning it happened she passed it off as stomach bug. The second morning she was hoping the bug would pass after a few days. On the third morning she awoke agitated, disappointed that her usual Saturday lie in with Christopher had been interrupted and also slightly miffed that he hadn’t also contracted the bug. After a week of waking in the same way she began to question whether it could be something more, but she didn’t dare hope.

“Please go and see Doctor Turner,” Christopher said one morning as he sat beside Trixie rubbing comforting circles on her back while she slumped against his shoulder on the bathroom floor, “As a Nurse you should know that feeling this rotten all the time isn’t normal.” Trixie shook her head in protest which caused a fresh wave of nausea to pass over her and she leant for the toilet once more. When she’d finished Trixie simply stood up without a word to Christopher and began to get ready for work, acting as if the last half an hour hadn’t happened.  

“Trixie, please,” Christopher pleaded as Trixie continued to button up her uniform, seemingly unaware of his presence. When she didn’t respond he stopped her hands by her chest before bringing them to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on each knuckle. “Please,” he repeated, as if the word took the last breath from his body, he was desperate.

“I’m scared.” Trixie crumbled as she spoke, Christopher caught her as she fell the ground, sobs overtaking her body. He rocked her back and forth gently until her tears eventually subsided. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted but everything I’ve always believed I’d never be able to do,” Trixie murmured into his shoulder. Christopher sat in stunned silence for a moment, he’d thought Trixie was ill, but at no point had connected the dots and believed that Trixie could be pregnant.  

“You will make a wonderful mother Trixie, you already do to Alexandra. And if you are pregnant I’ll be beside you through every moment. Through every sleepless night, through every heartbeat through every kick, and through every hormonal mood swing. We will do this together.” Christopher finally said once he had composed himself. Trixie lifted her head from where it was nestled in the crook of his neck and her eyes met his, nothing but honesty was reflected back at her. Overcome by affection for the man that had turned her life upside in the best possible way she tugged at his tie gently and pulled his lips to hers, any ounce of worry instantly dissipated. “Now as much as this is a wonderful way to spent my day darling I unfortunately need to get to work,” Christopher took a second to examine his wife’s face, “Do you still feel sick? You’re looking a little peaky again.”

“A little bit,” Trixie meekly replied. Christopher lifted her from the ground with ease and placed her carefully on the bed.

“I’m calling Nonnatus to let them know you’re not coming in today, you’re exhausted Trixie you need to rest. You’ll be absolutely no use to your patients like this.” Trixie didn’t have the energy to disagree, instead she nestled further into the pillows and whispered an “I love you” to Christopher as he left.

 -          -

It was a knock on the front door that eventually woke Trixie from her slumber. She crawled out of bed slowly and wrapped her dressing gown around her uniform clad body, ashamed at herself for falling asleep before she’d had chance to change. The knocking at the door became insistent and Trixie almost tripped over her own feet as she ran to open it.

“Oh Shelagh, come in, hello, I didn’t expect to see you,” Trixie stuttered, instantly feeling self-conscious about her appearance, it would not do for her work colleague to see her in such a state.

“I’m here on official business I’m afraid.” Shelagh’s words cause panic within Trixie, was she about to be reprimanded for being off work for simply feeling tired and sick? Consequently, yet another wave of nausea washed over her and Trixie had to run for the bathroom before Shelagh had even walked through the door. Shelagh was hot on Trixie’s heals and held her hair back, just as Christopher had done that morning.

“Sorry,” Trixie muttered once she had cleaned herself up and she began to busy herself in the kitchen making them both a cup of tea,

“Trixie, how long has this been happening?” Shelagh said with a bit more sternness than intended.

“Just over two weeks, possibly longer,” Trixie admitted, unable to meet Shelagh’s eye.

“And how often are you vomiting?”  

“It varies, sometimes only once a day, others it can be five times a day.” Shelagh noted how Trixie grimaced as she opened the milk to pour into the tea, she couldn’t help but smile, it was one of the first signs she herself was pregnant. She took the milk off Trixie and indicated that she should sit down.

“And making a cup of tea is seemingly impossible?” Shelagh continued to question as she placed a black cup of tea in front of Trixie “And you fear your new addiction is going to be milk-less tea?” Trixie could only laugh in response.

“Trixie, when was your last cycle?” Shelagh’s tone shifted slightly.

“11 weeks ago,” was all Trixie could say.

“Do you think you’re pregnant?” Shelagh took Trixie’s hand as she spoke.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Shelagh watched as for the first time Trixie accepted the way in which her life was about to change.

[prophetparadox]

Birds of a Feather Chapter 11: Realization (A Prompto x OC Soulmate AU)

Chapter 10 <-/AO3/-> Chapter 12

Masterlist

Word count: 2,306

Man, I’m just flying writing these chapters now! Which makes sense because I’m in a part of the story I’ve been waiting to get to for a while now. And yes, what you think will happen is finally happening. Prompto learns the truth! The only question is, can he fix things before it’s too late? Only one way to find out! And that’s to keep reading! Also forgive me for the cliffhanger, I had to do it.

Tagging: @themissimmortal, @blindbae, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites, @takuahijackedthetardis, @lunarlapin, and @mini-moogle-queen. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!

Prompto couldn't sleep. He was lying in the hotel bed, Noctis fast asleep beside him, as he stared at the ceiling lost in his thoughts. This had been happening for a number of days now, as he'd been worried about Katia too much to sleep or would just have nightmares, but now it was different. Now he was kept up by the realization he'd had just hours ago. That he was in love with her.

Honestly, he felt stupid for taking so long to realize it, it was no wonder Noctis kept making fun of them because it was probably obvious to everyone else. But the way he cared about her, worried about her, enjoyed being in her presence, it was all because he loved her. He wanted to make her happy and see her smile every day. He wanted to hold her in his arms when things got too rough for her. He wanted to make her laugh from the silly things he did. He wanted to give her happiness even if it meant she'd be happy with someone else. Especially since there was no way he'd ever be the one she chose.

He still didn't know what he'd done to make her upset so badly. And the events from a few hours ago played in his head, how she smiled as she danced with him and looked at him like he was the only other person. She seemed so happy, so why did she back away so suddenly like she was doing something wrong? And even without all that mess, he knew how much Katia wanted to find her soulmate. He'd never seen her marking before, but she talked to him about how she felt optimistic about finding her soulmate, even if her father never had. She wanted to find love and was hopeful that they'd love her. Whoever her soulmate was, they were lucky. Katia was so sweet, funny, adorable, it'd be easy for her soulmate to fall for her. After all, it'd been easy for him.

Speaking of soulmates, he felt the burning itching on his mark again. It seemed like for a moment, the pain had vanished and his soulmate had been happy. Maybe it was because they could feel his own happiness? But now that feeling was gone, and the itching continued no matter how hard he scratched at it. He wished it would stop. He'd already been dumped by Cindy, lost any chances he had with Katia, and he'd never find his soulmate. He didn't need a constant reminder that he was fated to never find love.

Maybe he just needed some fresh air, something to get his mind off of his heartbreak.

He slowly sat up and got out of bed, trying to be quiet so as not to wake anyone else up. He knew Noctis was out like a light, and Gladio was passed out from all the liquor as he snored away. Ignis was a light sleeper though, anything could wake him up. It was amazing he was getting any sleep with Gladio snoring in his ear. And as for Katia, he never knew what to expect. He knew she had sleeping problems, and it would take her a while to get to sleep, but he had no idea if she was easily awakened. He looked over to make sure she was sleeping and froze.

In the dim lighting from outside, Prompto could see Katia, lying on the floor in her own sleeping bag, looked unsettled. She looked like she was about to start crying, soft groans escaping her. She was having a nightmare. He wondered what would cause such a thing until he saw a small yellow object lying on the floor a few inches away. It was Squeaky. That's right, she told him the chocobo plushie helped her sleep better. He must've fallen out of the sleeping bag at some point. Well, he figured he should still try to help her, even if she did hate him. He walked over and picked Squeaky off of the floor, opening the sleeping bag just slightly so he could set him back in Katia's arms. She unconsciously grabbed him with her right arm, her face softening as Squeaky was back at her side. Prompto smiled, ready to get back to what he was doing when he noticed something strange.

Her left wrist was uncovered, and he thought he could make out something on there but it was too dark to see. He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand and brought it back over. If he saw what he thought he did... He turned it on, hovering it over her arm so the light wouldn't disturbe her, and the sight he saw was enough to send him into shock.

Right there, on her left wrist, was a feather shaped marking that looked extremely familiar. Prompto took his right wrist and put it under the light as well. Just as he thought, it was the same marking as his. It was the exact same chocobo feather, but on the other side of their bodies.

Prompto closed the sleeping bag and put the phone away. This couldn't be happening, there was no way it was real. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, then did it again three more times just to be certain. But nope, he was still standing in the hotel room, knowing that Katia Ferrum, the girl he'd been best friends with for five years and was in love with, was actually his soulmate. The soulmate he was convinced he'd never find and never love him back.

He stepped out onto the balcony, needing fresh air now more than ever. He couldn't help but laugh at the situation. The Astrals must've been playing with him. He'd known his soulmate for all these years, had been her friend for so long, and he'd never even thought that they were bound by fate. Not even when he realized he loved her just hours ago did he think they were soulmates. Six, he was stupid.

Then it hit him and the situation lost all humor to him. The pain he was feeling all this time had been hers. The happy feeling he felt while dancing had also been hers. The reason she was avoiding him since Caem...was it because she knew?

No, no, it couldn't be. Katia had never seen his marking before and there'd never been a moment where she'd have seen it by accident. Sure, she'd seen the barcode, but not the other side of his wrist. It was impossible. So how did she know? He felt like pulling out his hair, nothing was making sense anymore!

He slumped to the ground, sitting up against the wall. "Why me?" he asked. "Of all the people who could be her soulmate, why is it me? I'm not good enough for her, I'm just going to keep hurting her," Tears slipped down his face. "I don't even know why she's upset at me and I'm supposed to know her better than anyone. ...Shit!" He buried his face in his legs, asking countless questions he knew would never be answered. A moment like this should've made him happy, but all he could feel right now was guilt and sadness. She deserved so much better than a loser like him. How was he going to fix things now?

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

Noctis was surprised to wake up to an empty bed. He knew for a fact that Prompto had been sharing the bed with him, so the lack of him made the king worried. He looked around the hotel room. Gladio was lying in bed still, groaning due to the hangover. Ignis was nowhere to be seen, probably out finding aspirin or something. Katia was still asleep in her sleeping bag, or perhaps she was awake but didn't want to get up yet. He couldn't tell. But Prompto was not in the room.

As he got up out of bed, Ignis walked into the room. "Hey Specs, you know where Prompto is?" Noctis asked.

The advisor set down a bottle of pils next to where Gladio was lying, a glass of water already waiting there. "I believe he got up some point last night and went to the balcony," Ignis explained. "I never heard the door open again, so I can only assume he's still out there."

"Ugggh, can you not talk so loudly?" Gladio groaned, taking the water and chugging down a couple of pills. They certainly weren't going anywhere for a while, not during the morning at least.

Noctis walked over to the balcony and headed outside. Just as Ignis said, Prompto was still out here slumped up against the wall. "Hey, Prompto, you alive there?" he asked, lightly shaking his shoulder in case he somehow fell asleep like that.

Prompto's head slowly moved upwards, his eyes blinking open. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep out here. "Mmmmm...Noct?" he asked, trying to remember what had happened last night. Even though he managed to sleep, he felt so tired. Maybe because a balcony isn't the ideal sleeping spot.

"What're you out here for? Ignis said you came out here last night and never came back in." Noctis took Prompto by the hand, pulling him up so he could stand.

Prompto's eyes shot open, remembering what he saw last night. The feather, the proof of their bond, right there on Katia's wrist. He felt like he was about to cry again, but held himself back. The last thing he needed was to look like a mess. "Noct..." he finally said, trying to figure out how to tell him. "Kat, um, turns out she's..."

"Just spit it out, Prompto."

"She has the same mark as I do. We're soulmates." Prompto expected a reaction of shock, a wide-eyed stare, a gasp, anything. But his best friend remained silent. When he finally looked, Noctis was just grinning.

"It's about time you figured it out."

"Wait, you knew?! How?!"

"I saw her mark myself. She left her arm uncovered and I saw it. She freaked out at first though. Any idea why she did?"

"That doesn't matter, Noct! How long did you know? Why didn't you tell me?"

Noctis sighed. "I found out back in Cape Caem. I'd had my suspicions before that, but never any real proof," Wait, Caem was where the whole mess began. When she started avoiding him. Did she know after all? "And would you have really believed me if I'd told you?" Prompto shook his head. He had a point, if someone else had told him Katia was his soulmate he wouldn't believe it. He'd been convinced that their relationship would never be more than friends, and even if he'd realized his romantic feelings he'd never think it was due to the soulmate bond.

"Does she know? Is that why she's upset at me?"

Noctis shook his head. "Nope, she has no idea. I didn't think it was right to tell her in the state she was in," He glanced inside, seeing that Katia had woken up and was looking around the room. "As for why she's upset, it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Not like it matters," Prompto stared down at his feet, his heart sinking. "I couldn't even tell her that I love her last night, how am I gonna get her to believe we're destined to be together?"

"So you do love her?"

"Of course I do! Kat's the sweetest, kindest, cutest girl out there! She laughs at my stupid jokes, she listens to my problems, and she's soooo pretty."

"Prettier than Cindy?"

"I mean, Cindy's beautiful and all, but Kat's different. Cindy can't compare to her, not in my eyes."

"Then you should tell her that."

Prompto practically jumped out of his skin. "What? Are you crazy? I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because she deserves someone better than me, Noct!"

"Pretty sure the whole soulmate thing makes you the best for her."

"Besides, I just can't tell her when she doesn't even want to look at me!"

"Just tell her. The whole reason she's upset is because she thinks-"

The door opening halted the conversation as Katia walked out onto the balcony. "Oh, Noct. There you are. Iggy said you were out here. There's something I need to-" She turned to see Prompto standing there, looking sadder than ever. It hurt to see him like that, but she told herself not to let her be distracted. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting or something?"

"Nah, I need to head in anyway," Prompto made his way to the door.

"Gladio's hungover, so try not to bother him." Noctis warned.

Before going inside, he stopped next to Katia. He wanted to tell her something, anything, let her know he loved her. But he couldn't do it. "I had fun last night," he managed to spill out. "I hope you did too, Kat." Without waiting for a response, he went inside, leaving her with Noctis.

Noctis sighed, he had to tell her at some point. He'd make sure it'd happen. And she needed to tell him too. "You did look like you were having fun last night." he said, hoping to ignite the spark these two needed.

Katia looked at the ground, her shoes suddenly more interesting. "I guess it's because I forgot the truth or something. That he loves someone else. I don't know." No dice, she was still moping.

"Anyway, you need something from me right? Well what is it?"

Katia took a deep breath, knowing that this wouldn't be easy for her to say. "Okay, so, the thing is... Shit, how do I put this exactly?"

"Just tell me."

"Alright. Here goes. Noct, I think I need to stop travelling with you guys."

[essayofthoughts]

For the headcanons: Wanda, Pietro, Clint, and Natasha! (because I'm predictable af and also i want to see what different ones we come up with for the twins! :D

send me a character and i’ll tell you:

Wanda Maximoff

1. 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

I can’t say exactly? But probably something like Ammunition by Aviators, a song about protests and how, when you have no weapons, you are the weapon, the ammunition against those who would oppress you. The song is in English, so I imagine Wanda has a similar song in Sokovian.

… Okay, I may just give in and be Aviators trash, because my next two suggestions of things that Wanda might have on her iPod are again, things like Aviators songs. Namely, Bulletproof, the importance of ideals and continuing those in the face of those who would crush you down, because you might fight and you might die, but the ideas and ideals you’re fighting for, the desire for freedom and for justice you yearn for is something bulletproof, that cannot be killed.

The next one is for after the experiments, Aviators’ We Are Not Machines, a rising denial in the face of someone trying to turn you into a tool, a refusal to be what someone else makes you - not a weapon in their hands, but a weapon in your own hands, of your own choices and not some simple input-output  machine - for you are a person, not a machine. I imagine that a song like this would also gain additional meaning to Wanda on meeting Ultron and on meeting Vision - Ultron who is constantly fighting against what he was made to be and in doing so, allowing that to shape him, and Vision, who knows how he was made and what he was made to be and yet is simply… not. Is simply his own. Is, because of all of this, not a machine.

Last song… hmm. IAMX, My Secret Friend. U will understand Nell. U will understand.

2. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

Less, “Not supposed to” and more “others frown at it”, Wanda often falls asleep against her brother, sitting beside Pietro and just tilting her head to his shoulder and sleeping, or after nightmares when he comes to see if she’s ok, falling asleep in the comfort of a hug.

After he’s gone, Wanda falls asleep in the shower, the warm water and the noise dulling the grief of her mind and giving the illusion of a warm presence. Vision finds her like this, some late evenings.

3. the game they’d destroy everyone else at

Truth or Dare or Never Have I Ever

Wanda has no fear because Pietro has always been there to protect her, and even when he isn’t anymore the lingering strength and certainty it gives her, the fact she has had that strength to fall back on all her life and yet often tried not to in order to keep Pietro safe and well means she has a confidence in-and-of herself that means she’s unafraid of a lot. Also, living on the streets kind of means she takes a practical view of a lot of things.

And then for the truth aspects - Wanda can tell when people are telling the truth with her powers and I imagine that even before the powers she had a knack for reading people and understanding them in a way Pietro always lacked. In turn, I imagine Wanda has a knack for telling almost-truths, that are truth enough that people will take them as truth, but that allow her to hide things she doesn’t want to talk about extensively.

This would make her rather hard to provide counselling for, I fear, as well as the fact that I don’t think she’d trust anyone enough to talk about even the least of her issues with.

4. the emoticon they’d use most often

That depends on who she’s messaging and when. Usually it’s just “frownyface” but Stark occasionally gets a middle finger emoticon (and if one doesn’t exist I would point out that with the Avengers she’d probably use a Starkphone and if Tony Stark designed it then it 100% has a middle finger emoticon. Because Tony Stark Would).

5. what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

If just “without sleep” then quietly grumpy, somewhat bitchy (very bitchy, according to Pietro but he thinks it’s amusing) eventually tapering off to just conking out wherever is comfortable enough.

If caffeinated and sleepless: very very giggly, Laughing at the oddest jokes the weirdest puns and also things that are not jokes or puns but that are, to her sleep-deprived brain, very amusing.

6. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Tea. Herbal tea, black tea, green tea. She uses chamomile, mint and lavender for headaches, spiced black tea with a lot of milk to wake up, green tea when she needs to think. She’ll drink coffee if she has to, for the sake of pure biting caffeine and also because the taste is so foul it always wakes her (no matter how much sugar she adds and she finds this infuriating), but her fallback is always tea.

7. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

Before the events of AOU she’d curl up beside Pietro and talk to him about whatever it is happens to be niggling inside her brain, whatever is worrying her and making her doubt and loose sight of their goals and Pietro would pull her from it and pull her into a hug and possibly go off and “find” her some chocolate (whether he found it or stole it depends on how much money they had at the time and how much he cared about “stealing will get you killed Pietro”. The worse off Wanda seemed the less he cared about the latter).

After the events of AOU, she curls up in her room or in her chair or at the bottom of the shower and tries not to get lost in the twisting grieving paths of her own mind. Sometimes Vision finds her and says something so wholly unexpected it makes her laugh and consider and pulls her from it. Other times Steve alerts Clint who proceeds to drop by and go “right, come on, holiday time. The kids are begging me for a barbecue and no one knows how to make that sauce for the lamb skewers like you do” and drag her off to the farm. Lila and Coop and little Nathaniel Pietro Barton pull her from her slump more quickly than anything.

8. what they wanted to be when they grew up

Free. Safe. Well. Secure. With Pietro. With their vengeance completed. In Sokovia.

And now Sokovia’s capital is a hole in the ground because of her actions, their vengeance has been shed in the face of a bigger threat, Pietro is gone, and any hopes of safety and security and freedom and wellbeing were stolen from her with the Accords and the Raft.

9. their favorite kind of weather

When you are high up enough in the mountains, or ringed by them, the sky can be clear and yet you are shaded, and though it is sunny it is softly cool.

When the weather is this mess of contradictions it reminds her of Sokovia, of Novi Grad, of home, and sometimes she needs that.

10. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

She can sing and sings softly, she sang lullabies on those rare occasions Pietro had nightmares and woke her, she sings lullabies to Lila and to Cooper and to Nathaniel Pietro Barton when he is fractious, and she sings them in soft Sokovian, so softly that only Vision can really hear all of the words.

She can sing louder, but too often she has had to sing quietly unless she be found by those who would do her harm. 

11. how/what they like to draw or doodle

Wanda can’t draw much. Oddly enough Pietro can, and after his death, Wanda doesn’t dare try for the rising, grieving memories of her brother.

Pietro Maximoff

1. 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

So uhh… I’m gonna give in and pick Aviators songs like songs Pietro would have liked if they were in Sokovian.

First of all, Lowborn by Aviators - the hope of rising against impossible odds, of even those at the bottom finally getting recognition and all that they have earned. I mean. “Honor means nothing when war is unfair/ We’ve come here to battle and return to nowhere” and “I’ve nothing to lose, with no debts left to pay” and “The gods have not listened /Though prayers turned to cold-blooded screams” and “Vengeance igniting the fire in my blood” I mean. Goddamn Aviators.

In many ways, Pietro is the more cynical of the twins - he’s had to be, to keep Wanda safe, and so the next song is Aviators’ Welcome to Paradise, which has a lovely thread of “oh, you thought there was hope here?” throughout. I mean. “A wishful thought won’t take you far/ When hell on earth is where you are”and “Our lives are on the line/ In ruins we strive/ We’ll never thrive/ Without the will to survive”. Goddamn Aviators.

Next, This Means War by Aviators. Which is a song they wrote specifically for AOU. I am horrendously predictable. The song is a rush of fighting and having to fight and “a world worth fighting for” and my gods. It’s Pietro racing and the entire Battle of Novi Grad. 

Lastly, Diamonds and Guns by The Transplants. I don’t know why, but this song has always felt rather Pietro to me.

2. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

Um. Pietro is a hard case to judge because well… Look do you honestly think he’s going to sleep if he has to watch over Wanda. He sleeps when exhausted or when Wanda makes him, so the place he falls asleep when he’s not supposed to is like for half an hour outside the backdoors of the Bakers and the Butchers who he runs deliveries for. The managers open the door and hear a thump as Pietro falls over because the door is gone.

3. the game they’d destroy everyone else at

It. Obviously. Even before his powers he was fast, and with his powers he is uncatchable. And, with his speed, he can search and find you in a fraction of the time it would take you to find him and once you’re it good luck catching him. Your best bet is waiting for him to fall asleep and we all know how he is about that ^^.

4. the emoticon they’d use most often

In Sokovia he never really had a phone and so had no use for them. Then he died. 

If he was still around, however, probably the built in “middle finger” emoticon that all Starkphones come with as standard. That said, he does make use of that one Japanese emoticon - ✿＼(｡-_-｡) (“i got your flower”) - whenever Wanda wants to go and fight someone. It is saved in his phone for regular use.

5. what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

He never has enough sleep. He sleeps in fits and starts and has done this for so long that he’s functional. The question is What does he act like when he has had enough sleep.

The answer? Like a… mostly normal person, actually. Not reckless, not (quite) as ADHD. I say mostly, however, because he won’t have had enough sleep for long - his dedication to Wanda’s safety makes sure of that.

6. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Not a hot drink! Pietro prefers orange juice, no matter what. He does exercise when he wants to warm up, as he always has the energy for it.

7. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

Pietro is rarely in a slump; he has his focus on keeping Wanda safe and so he subsumes just about everything to this one purpose, no slump lasts long when he has the eternal focus of making sure Wanda is safe, that they have enough food and a place to sleep that night, and can get to their jobs in the morning and survive each protest with minimal police brutality.

The only time Pietro is in a slump is when he fails to protect Wanda, and that rapidly turns into guilt and a desire for vengeance (“I’ll kill him”) which is only tempered by Wanda (“No, no, I’m all right. I want to finish the job.”) who is the only one who can redirect him when he’s like this.

Pietro comforts himself by taking care of Wanda.

8. what they wanted to be when they grew up

Safe, Happy, with Wanda and with their vengeance completed. In Sokovia.

He dies before he can see any part of this, and gives up on vengeance in the doing so.

9. their favorite kind of weather

Rain. While Wanda likes the bright-shade sunny-cool of the mountains, Pietro likes the rain and the snow, but mostly rain because he finds it so so refreshing.

Also it makes Wanda laugh when he shakes his hair to try to get the worst of the water out.

10. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

He can sing, but only does so for Wanda. Mostly old Sokovian lullabies.

11. how/what they like to draw or doodle

Draws kind of mechanically - not for artistic reasons but so he can have a visual representation of something. While Pietro’s memory is fantastic, he trusts Wanda’s recollection of things more than his own because Wanda will read things in the behaviours of other people that he’ll miss. So, instead, he draws out scenarios and situations from memory so Wanda can name the ones they know and tell him what each was thinking and who they’ll need to be wary of. He also draws the faces of the people who attack them and burn down the flats they stay it, so the twins can track them down, and do the same to them.

Fair’s fair, after all.

Clint Barton

1. 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

Right. Okay.

Love To Hate You by Erasure, because of course. Every time he and Natasha have any kind of disagreement when on a job with SHIELD he’d start playing it at full volume. To which Natasha would respond “ITS NOT SAFE HOUSE IF THEY CAN HEAR US THREE BLOCKS AWAY CLINT”.

All the same, its their theme song, because they are one another’s dearest friends (and possibly have been lovers at some point maybe I don’t know) and also they sometimes hate each other, mostly for being right.

They’re Taking The Hobbits To Isengard. I don’t care if this is a meme, you cannot tell me that Coulson or Fury or Natasha didn’t play this at him at full volume (I mean. He is hard-of-hearing) at some point.

Probably the ten hour version, to be honest. Clint thought it was jammin’ and now will sometimes be found singing it under his breath.

2. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

In the Quinjet. At the controls of the Quinjet. This is why he almost always pilots with Natasha.

He may or may not have also fallen asleep on stakeout at least once.

3. the game they’d destroy everyone else at

Darts. Obviously.

4. the emoticon they’d use most often

I don’t care if they’re not real emoticons, he’d probably have a Starkphone and his favourite emoticons would be a high five one and fingerguns.

5. what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Trying not to nod off. Unless he’s had caffeine pills, in which case he’s trying to stay still. When dealing with a baby at home, Laura has vetoed the use of caffeine pills and so, instead, he makes do with very very very big cups of frankencoffee.

6. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

Coffee. Specifically, frankencoffee, aka, “so what happens if I have this coffee and this coffee and then also some chocolate and some cinnamon and oh is that butterscotch syrup, yeah, sure, and oooh, Laura won’t mind me borrowing half a bottle of peppermint essence and oh look we also have orange extract-” until he has a pint mug of the most unholy thing you could ever drink.

And I say this as someone who created coffeetea for all-nighter essay writing.

7. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

Spends time with Laura and the kids, and sometimes takes the kids out to a paddock where she shows them how to shoot. They’re getting almost as good at him at regular archery, but he dreads what Laura will say if he starts them on trick shots too young.

What he doesn’t know is that Lila and Cooper are already practising trick shots, just without him around.

8. what they wanted to be when they grew up

“not arrested” I think is the closest. Then he was arrested, and Coulson said, “so, hey, would you like a job?” and then he was SHIELD, and though he got arrested many times after that they always got him out.

… though after he brought Natasha in Coulson did leave him to stew in a cell for almost two days before going to fetch him. But Clint thinks that’s fair payback for bringing in a possibly-evil opposing agent when tasked with killing her.

9. their favorite kind of weather

Sunny, clear, not too windy. He can hear more easily and he can see for miles, which really helps with his archery.

10. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

Clint can… kind of sing? Laura calls it a “warble”, mostly to tease him about the bird thing. He mostly sings to their kids, though he has been known to serenade Laura on occasion.

11. how/what they like to draw or doodle

Angles for shots when he’s got to stakeout and snipe.

Natasha Romanoff

1. 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod

Tachikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Because cannons and also Russian. In The Hall Of The Mountain King because she kinda likes the ominousness.

I Knew You Were Trouble - the Gollum version, because memes, and Pocketful of Sunshine, which she considers a “Laura Song”.

2. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to

You think that Clint climbing through vents is bad? You’ve never had to deal with Natasha falling asleep in them.

3. the game they’d destroy everyone else at

Any drinking game. The only one who could beat her is Vision, except Vision doesn’t generally drink, because he doesn’t need to. That said, the twins come close, as did Stark, before he decided that he really needed to cut back on the self-medication via alcohol.

4. the emoticon they’d use most often

Is there one for a frownyface with one raised eyebrow? That’s Natasha’s fave.

5. what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep

Absolutely normal until the moment she keels over. Common procedure with SHIELD was to debrief her and give her one cup of coffee, as soon as the coffee was finished, debriefing would be delayed until she’d got some sleep.

6. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever.

She doesn’t really have a preference; the chance to have options is her preference and she’ll generally go with whatever her tastebuds are craving at the time, unless it would blow her cover.

7. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump

Visiting Clint and Laura and the Barton kids.

8. what they wanted to be when they grew up

A ballerina. Not a Black Widow-Ballerina, an actual Ballerina. And she could have been, if not for the Red Room. Now she just wants to make sure that people don’t do that to more kids, and that kids who’ve been shaped so don’t get a chance to destroy the world.

9. their favorite kind of weather

Cold, crisp, biting winter snow.

10. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

Natasha Does Not Sing. Not ever.

11. how/what they like to draw or doodle

Sometimes she sketches things, not really thinking.

Almost inevitably, its things from the Red Room.