#is a bit of an abrupt change :’D

[raraeavesmoriendi]

on this day I would just like to announce my eternal love and gratitude for noise canceling headphones

[corroded-hellfire]

Thanks for the Help - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

A collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs, who I'm eternally thankful for 💛

Summary: The first Thanksgiving as Eddie's girl comes with some unexpected pressures, but also some unexpected kindness.

Note: Happy Thanksgiving!

Words: 5.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Did I already get all the ingredients for the green bean casserole out? Oh God, did I set the oven to the right temperature for the turkey? I’m missing a vegetable. What am I missing? Jesus, did the carrots just disappear?

Frantic is an understatement for how you’re scrambling about the kitchen, trying to do twenty things at once. Sure, you’ve cooked meals for people before—hell, you’ve cooked many meals for the Munson family before. But this is Thanksgiving. Arguably the most important meal of the year. You refuse to screw it up. 

What if the boys are disappointed in your cooking? Of course Eddie would say he enjoyed it no matter what, but you want the truth. The boys are good with the truth—for the most part, anyway. Luke can be brutally honest at times. Some days it’s refreshing, some days you wish the kid would keep his mouth shut when he says that the skirt you're wearing is an “old lady skirt.”

Eddie is useless in the kitchen—occasionally detrimental. The boys are too young to be of any great help to you, either. It’s all on you. You’re either going to sink or swim, you’re just having some issues getting into the water. 

This is the first Thanksgiving that the boys aren’t spending with both of their parents. Both you and Eddie were curious how they would react to this, but they don’t seem to be deviating from their usual, cheerful selves at all. Part of you is worried they’re going to compare your cooking to Brittany’s. Will they wish their mom was here cooking instead of you? No, you know with absolute certainty that isn’t the case. Even if they do prefer Brittany’s cooking to yours, there is no way they would want their mother here instead of you. Not to mention that Brittany had scampered off to California to visit her family. Eddie tried to have the conversation with her about where the boys would go, but she just rolled her eyes and told Eddie she already had plans. No Brittany already makes this Thanksgiving better than any he’s had in years. 

For you, this only added pressure—not only were you cooking an entire Thanksgiving dinner, but you also had to ensure that Luke and Ryan weren’t distraught over this abrupt change in family traditions. Eddie has told you many times not to be nervous, but since when did that work for anybody? “Don’t be nervous.” Oh great, thank you for the advice, I’m not nervous anymore!

Last night as you were getting into bed, Eddie could tell you were on edge and tugged you over to lay on his chest so he could hold you. 

“What’s going on?” he’d asked. 

You hadn’t said it out loud to him yet. You knew you could, it’s just embarrassing. Plus, Brittany was never a pleasant topic to discuss. But this is Eddie; you could bare your soul to him, and he’d still be there holding you. 

“I’m scared that I won’t be able to cook as good of a meal as Brittany and the boys will be disappointed,” you’d admitted.

Eddie let out a heavy sigh and softly rubbed up and down your back. 

“Sweetheart, half the time we were at one of her relative’s houses, anyway. Brittany only cooked Thanksgiving a handful of times. You cook far better than she does. The boys are so happy to have you with us this year. I’m so happy to have you. Plus, I’m the alternative here. Anything you make will be a masterpiece compared to whatever I’d come up with.” 

His words had soothed you a little, but when you woke up this morning, the dread still slithered throughout your chest. You feel a bit more relaxed when you see two sleepy-headed boys coming down the hall in their pajamas. Luke’s curls are a mess—more so than usual. And Ryan has a few sections of his hair that are standing straight up. What do these kids do in their sleep?

“Good morning,” you greet them.

“Mornin’,” Ryan mumbles. You only get a half-hearted wave from Luke in response. 

“You guys want some cereal?” you ask. It might be a nice break from searching for ingredients and running around in circles.

“S’the parade on yet?” Luke asks before letting out the longest yawn that you’ve ever heard. 

“About seven more minutes, bud,” you tell him. “Cereal?”

“Yes, please,” Ryan says. 

“Sure!” Luke adds. 

You turn to Eddie, who is leaning up against the counter and inspecting his fingernails like he has not a care in the world. “Um, babe?”

“Ya?”

“Can you get the boys their breakfast?” The request is terse, your anxiety amplifying your frustration that he’s taking up space in the kitchen without doing anything. 

Eddie throws Lucky Charms and milk in plastic bowls and brings them over to his sons, flipping through the channels until he gets to one showing the parade. Ryan and Luke buzz with excitement as the New York Fire Department kicks off the event, oversized balloons trailing not far behind. 

“I could be one of those balloon string people,” Luke says as a gigantic Garfield floats by. 

Ryan rolls his eyes. “It would carry you away,” he answers with a smirk. 

Luke’s eyes light up, excited by the prospect of this impromptu voyage. “Where?”

“Over the rainbow. In Munchkinland,” Ryan deadpans, crunching on his cereal. 

“Hey, Scarecrow, Tin Man, be nice,” Eddie says and picks up a couch pillow to bop each of them on the head with from behind, making his way back over to where you’re prepping veggies.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your hips. “Baby, did you even have breakfast yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar,” you say distractedly, trying to find the right page in a cookbook.

Eddie shakes his head and smiles. “Sweetheart, come on. Sit down with me. Eat something.”

“I have to get the turkey in the oven and get everything else prepped so I’m not scrambling for ingredients…” you explain, closing a drawer with your hip. 

He laughs kindly. “And you will, right after you eat an actual meal. You won’t be much of a chef if you faint.”

“Just let me make sure I have all the ingredients for the green bean casserole. I know it’s in this damn book somewhere.” You lick your forefinger as you flip through the pages on a mission to find the recipe. 

Eddie sighs and drops his forehead down to your shoulder. He knew you were going to put too much pressure on yourself today, even after he tried to explain to you last night that there’s no reason to stress about anything. At this point, any further reassurance would likely be a waste of breath, so he just grabs a slice of carrot and absentmindedly pops it in his mouth. 

You can no longer hide your frustration, even if you wanted to. “Eddie, what the hell?” Anger seeps through your gritted teeth when you chastise him. 

“Hmm?”

For fuck’s sake, you think, sighing in annoyance. “You’re eating the ingredients!”

“It was one carrot slice!”

When you glare at him, Eddie puts his hands up in surrender and starts to back away, nearly bumping right into Ryan. 

“Uh uh,” Eddie says, shaking his head when his oldest son drops his empty bowl in the sink. “Kitchen’s gonna have enough going on today. Wash your bowl and put it away, please.”

Ryan does as he’s told, though his mind wanders back to all the things he learned about Thanksgiving at school this week. He looks over at you while you prep the turkey, a huge grin on his face. 

“Did you know they don’t think there really was a turkey at the first Thanksgiving? Oh! And the first Thanksgiving lasted three days!”

You’re only half listening as you focus on basting the bird up with butter, careful not to miss a spot. 

“That’s pretty cool, Ry,” you say with half-hearted enthusiasm. 

“And they think there were only five women there. That’s crazy!” Ryan continues. 

Luke wanders into the kitchen and Ryan tells him what Eddie did—to wash and put away his bowl. He does, but not as willingly or thoroughly as his brother. 

Once the boys go back out to watch the rest of the parade, you breathe a sigh of relief. Now maybe you can chop the rest of the carrots without accidentally slicing a finger. 

The agitation that’s built up in you over the course of the morning starts to abate as you’re able to get a few tasks accomplished. You wash your hands in the sink, hoping the lemon scent of the soap will take some of the stench of onion off of them. As you turn around to grab a paper towel, Ryan strolls back into the kitchen. You hate the surge of irritation that floods through you. Ryan didn’t do anything wrong; he’s just walking around his own home.

“Can I help?” he asks, adorable smile on display. 

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” you say as you look around at all the supplies spread out on the countertops. Anything that needs to be done next involves a knife, the oven, or stove. Nothing that Ryan is old enough to work with. “I’ll let you know when there’s something I need you for, okay?”

“Okay,” he says with a shrug.

Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. Maybe now he’ll go back out with Luke or go bug Eddie. But he stays in the kitchen, bouncing around on the balls of his feet as he looks at the different ingredients that are out. 

“President Lincoln is the one who made Thanksgiving a national holiday. In 1863!”

Two things you would never do are tell one of the boys to shut up or discourage them from learning. The little devil on your shoulder wants you to do exactly that, though. Before you can say anything, Luke skips into the kitchen and glides over the linoleum floor with his socked feet. He pushes past his older brother to be closer to you.

“We learned all ‘bout the Mayflower! And the Pur…purit…purg…uh…” he trails off.

“Puritans?” you say, tone harsher than you intended. Luckily, neither of the boys notice. 

Luke pipes up this time. “I made a pilgrim hat in school, but then it, um, it broke.”

Ryan cocks a curious eyebrow. “It broke? How?”

“I sat on it.”

Eddie sees the boys getting underfoot and swoops in. “Parade’s back on,” he reports, ushering them back over to the couch before spinning around to face you. “I can help chop, if that’ll help.”

You begrudgingly agree, handing him a knife and a butternut squash. 

He hasn’t even been at the task for two minutes when he yelps, “son of a bitch!”

You jump, startled by the sudden noise. “Wh-What?” you ask at the same time the boys call out, “swear jar!” in unison. 

“Cut my finger,” Eddie mumbles, shoving his forefinger in his mouth while you huff and grab a paper towel. “Jeez, it was an accident. What’s going on with you?”

You massage the bridge of your nose, feeling like you have three kids in the house instead of just two. “Nothing,” you reply, fist clenched, “just…go put a Band-Aid on.”

With his dad occupied in another room, Ryan wanders into the kitchen. 

“Did you know that female turkeys don’t gobble?”

Did you know that this female human is about to lose her patience? You keep the snark to yourself, though part of you thinks your tongue will fall off with how much you’ve been biting it today. 

You’re the first one to listen to what the boys did in school, what they learned, and help them with their homework. You read with them, quiz them, even hit them with your own trivia tidbits. On any other occasion you’d absolutely love this. But now? Now it’s grating on you like sandpaper against your skin. 

“It’s a commercial,” Luke announces as he joins the gang in the kitchen. He stays quiet for a moment, and with your back to him since you’re checking the potatoes on the stove, you think he may have left, but then you hear, “can we get McDonalds?”

Luckily, Ryan answers for you. “No, it’s Thanksgiving!”

“Oh. Right.”

When Eddie returns, one of the boys’ SpongeBob SquarePants Band-Aids wrapped around his finger, he presses a kiss to your cheek. You start to smile, feeling yourself relax until you watch him skim some of the fried onions for the green bean casserole. 

“Boys, do you wanna help?” Your palms tightly gripping the edge of the countertop is the only thing keeping you from imploding. 

“Yes!” Luke begins to jump up and down, flashing a gigantic smile. 

“What can we do?” Ryan asks, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder to prevent him from going airborne. 

You muster up all of the enthusiasm you can, which isn’t much. “It’s a very important job. Are you guys up for it?”

“Yeah!” they cheer in unison.

“Okay.” You lean in as though sharing a precious secret. “I need you to be my little security guards. Your dad,” you gesture to Eddie, “has sticky fingers and keeps stealing ingredients. Can you two keep an eye on everything to make sure he doesn’t take anything else?”

“Aye aye!” Luke salutes like he’s taking orders in the military.

“He’ll never get past us!” Ryan promises.

Eddie raises his fingers from behind them. “And, um, what can I do?” he asks.

“You wanna help? Uh…set the table?” you offer with a shrug.

You can vaguely hear him mumble under his breath about that being a kid’s job; the boys hear it, too, and they laugh. 

“It’s like you’re the kid and we’re the grown-ups!” Ryan giggles. Eddie ignores him and puts down placemats. 

Both Luke and Ryan take their job very seriously; every time Eddie even looks in your direction, they’re on high alert, shooing him away. This gives you a bit of peace and allows you to accomplish more tasks than when you had three Munsons trampling through the kitchen like wildebeests. 

The apartment buzzer rings, followed by a cheery, Southern accent-twanged, “it’s me!”

“GRANDPA!” Luke shouts, bolting for the door. He buzzes Wayne in while Eddie reaches over his head to unbolt the lock. 

Wayne walks through the door a few minutes later, carrying an apple pie just as he promised. His brows crease when he takes in the sight of you practically tripping over the boys in the kitchen, trying to do everything yourself. 

“You’re not helping her?” he asks his nephew, a slight accusation in his tone. 

Eddie holds up his bandaged finger. “I’ve been banished.”

Wayne pulls him aside, dropping his volume to a whisper. “I’ll work on dinner. You go cheer up your girl before she starts to cry.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Cheer her up, like…right now?”

Confusion contorts Wayne’s mouth for just a moment. “What…oh, Jesus. Not like that. Just give her a pep talk.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “What are you, a goddamn animal?”

“Take a break, darlin’.” Wayne says, turning to you. “I can handle things in here.” This much you know from his countless stories as an army cook. 

With the eldest Munson controlling the kitchen, Eddie takes the opportunity to pull you aside, into the bedroom. He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Can you take a deep breath for me, babe?” He smiles when you inhale for three seconds and then exhale slowly. “Look, I know you want this to be perfect, but I’m gonna love you whether we have the fanciest dinner or PB&Js.”

You try your best to listen to him, but there’s still this nagging sensation in your brain. “But the boys—”

“Sweetheart, they think Kraft mac and cheese is the pinnacle of fine cuisine. They just want to spend time with you.”

You nod, logically knowing that Eddie is right, but your mind still not fully accepting it. 

“I want to make it the best it can be for them.”

Despite your stressed out and anxious state, Eddie can’t help but smile. It’s an adoring smile as he pulls you against his chest. He presses a few soft kisses to the side of your head before resting his own against it.

“I love how much you love them,” he says. “You know what would make this the best Thanksgiving for them? Including them, just like you did. I know they had to be driving you up the wall, but you didn’t tell them to quit it or get out. Instead, you gave them jobs and made them feel important. Princess, all they want—all we all want—is to sit around the table with the people we love and eat and laugh and just enjoy the time together.”

“That sounds lovely,” you admit with a dreamy sigh that makes Eddie chuckle.

“This is already my favorite Thanksgiving,” he tells you. ‘All my favorite people are under one roof. The delicious food you make is just going to be the icing on the cake.”

“We have pie, not cake,” you tease, poking a finger into Eddie’s chest. But your lips do quirk up in the approximation of a smile. Eddie takes this as a win and gives you a big smacking kiss on your forehead.

Wayne has a well-oiled machine going when you walk back into the kitchen. He hardly even looks tired; he completely has control over the situation. Since Eddie was busy in the other room talking with you, your small security guards are apparently taking a break from their shifts.

Ryan is still spouting out facts to his grandfather about the holiday. Now, it makes you chuckle as you listen to him giving a history lecture. Between Wayne swooping in to be your hero and Eddie trying to calm you down, there’s less pressure on you. You’re able to appreciate the enthusiasm of the boys and how they’re getting into the spirit of the holiday. With one more deep breath, you know you’re ready to get back in the kitchen and work alongside Wayne.

“Grandpa,” Ryan says as Wayne checks on the turkey. “I’ll tell you this because I know Daddy won’t care. Football on Thanksgiving didn’t become a tradition until 1876!” 

“Huh,” you muse as you open a can of green beans. “Do you know who it was between?”

“It was Yale and Princeton!”

Of course he knows that, too. Ryan never ceases to amaze you. You’re pretty sure he knows more now than you ever will. Maybe you could get him to help you with your statistics course that’s being a pain in the ass. You chuckle at the thought of Ryan attempting to explain the equations to you, getting frustrated every time you just stare at him in confusion.

Eddie walks into the kitchen and looks around, eyes landing on his eldest son.

“All I heard was, ‘Daddy won’t care.’ What exactly wouldn’t I care about?”

“Football,” Ryan says.

“You got that right,” Eddie says and musses up Ryan’s hair. “Could be worse though—at least it’s not basketball.”

Luke frowns. “Why don’t you like basketball?”

Wayne shakes his head like don’t get him started.

“All they do is shoot balls into laundry baskets! And they’re already, like, seven feet tall! It’s barely a challenge!” Eddie’s whiny protests are adorable, though it’s very clear that’s not his intention.

Luke shuffles over and whispers in Ryan’s ear, “I wonder if it’s ‘cause Uncle Steve and Uncle Lucas were on the team and were better than Daddy at it.”

The two children–or three really, with how Eddie’s been acting today–take their sports arguments into the living room while you and Wayne continue to cook.

“I gotta tell ya,” the older man says as he measures out the butter to put in the mashed potatoes, “I’ve never seen Eddie and the boys like this.”

“What, acting the same age?” you tease with a smirk.

Wayne chuckles and shakes his head. “Wasn’t gonna be what I said, but that don’t come as a shock to me neither. No, I ain’t ever seen them so happy before. Not ‘cause it’s a holiday and they’re all excited; in general. They’re happier overall. And that’s ‘cause of you.”

Emotion tightens your throat. To know that Wayne can see from an outside perspective that Eddie and the boys are happier having you around? It makes you feel light as air, but you could also burst into tears. Not of sadness, or even happiness really, just tears of so much emotion building up inside of you. Luckily, you don’t have to come up with anything to say because Wayne continues talking.

“I know the two of ya haven’t been together that long,” Wayne says with a shrug, “but I can tell by the way you two look at each other.”

“He’s my person,” you agree, managing to squeak the words out.

“I can’t wait to be at your wedding someday,” he says, emotion clear in his voice as well. “Think I might be almost as excited as those two knuckleheads out there. The small ones, that is. Darlin’, you fit right in with our family.”

In all the time you’ve known Wayne, you’ve never heard him open up like this. To anyone, let alone you. The two of you made friendly conversation when you were still the babysitter and have had some pretty long conversations with one another now that you’re Eddie’s girl. But nothing like this. It makes you take his words even more to heart; you do fit in with this family.

“That means a lot,” you say in a soft voice. Shyness suddenly creeps up in you. “I just want to make this extra special for all of them, especially now that they don’t live together full-time.”

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, startling you. 

“Mine.” Eddie punctuates his declaration with a kiss to your cheek. You giggle and turn around in his arms, only to find he’s snagged a green bean from the bowl. 

“Eddie Munson, I swear to God!”

The nerves that had dissipated over the course of the day start to work their way back up as all the food is set on the table and everyone begins to take a seat. You have no doubt that some of the dishes will taste great, but those would certainly have been made by Wayne. If anything on the table is bad, you’re sure that will fall in your lap.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie slips an arm around you and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers.

You follow his instructions and take your seat at the table, right next to Ryan. Eddie’s seat is at your other side, the head of the table–if it could even be called that with a table this small. 

Everyone but your boyfriend is seated, but Luke looks like he’s ready to dive headfirst into the sweet potato casserole. When the turkey had come out of the oven a little while ago, Eddie asked if Wayne wanted to have the honor of carving it. His uncle just shook his head and told Eddie that’s his job now. 

Now, Eddie stands in front of the turkey, and as you look up at him, you can see a smile quirking the corners of his lips. He clears his throat and looks out at his family sitting around him. Making a toast wasn’t something Eddie planned on doing today, but in the moment it feels right.

“So, uh, this Thanksgiving looks different for all of us this year. It’s been a bit of a weird year, but it led us to this. All of us being at this table right now with each other. Looking around at everyone’s faces I’m pretty sure everyone is smiling a little bigger, too.” Eddie lifts his glass. “My favorite people in the world are all right here with me. You all are what I’m most thankful for—not just today, but every day. So, cheers to a happy Thanksgiving.”

Everyone clinks their glasses together, and Luke makes sure that everyone has touched their own glass to everyone else’s. To no one’s surprise, Luke is also the first one to comment on the food once everyone has dug in.

“I wanna eat this food every day.” He shoves a forkful of green bean casserole in his mouth as if to prove his point.

“It really is great, sweetheart,” Eddie concurs. He reaches over and rubs his hand along your arm affectionately. Purely in a teasing manner, Wayne clears his throat, which leaves Eddie to add, “And you too, Uncle Chef Boyardee.”

Ryan’s too busy stuffing his face to speak, but it makes you chuckle at how focused he is on the food. Normally, Luke’s the one with that appetite intensity. He slows down quickly though, his eyes far bigger than his belly. His fork trails through some butter pooled in a small puddle on his plate when he gets an idea.

“Let's say what we’re thankful for! Grandpa first.”

“Easy,” Wayne says once he’s swallowed his mouthful of food. “Family.”

“New traditions,” Eddie says when Ryan points at him. Next, the finger is aimed in your direction.

“Love and acceptance.” 

Eddie’s leg purposefully brushes against yours, so you gently tap your foot against his.

“I’m thankful for you!” Ryan grins up at you, two missing baby teeth only adding to his adorableness. He wraps both of his arms around your one and gives it a hug. “I’m so happy I get to see you more.”

“It makes me happy too,” you say as you rest your head against his, emotions once again threatening to get the better of you. “I have so much fun with you guys.”

Luke takes it upon himself to announce what he’s thankful for since all attention is currently diverted away from him. 

“I’m thankful no one’s got scurvy, and for my dog,” the six-year-old announces.

“Luke, you don’t have a dog,” Eddie says.

The little boy shrugs before spearing a piece of turkey on his fork.

“That’s what you think.”

You, Eddie, and Wayne all share confused expressions that lead you to giggle, which in turn has everyone at the table laughing as well. 

Eddie and the boys do most of the clearing of the table when everyone’s finished, since they didn’t cook, but you and Wayne pitch in as well. Right after Luke puts a dirty bowl in the sink, he gasps and bolts out of the room. If it were anyone else, one of you might question it, but it’s Luke.

He runs back in and slides to a stop right in front of you. The way he starts jumping up and down makes you worry that he’ll puke, so you gently rest your hands on his shoulders to keep him grounded. 

“I made this for you!” He proudly brandishes a hand turkey he made at school. “I made it ‘specially for you!”

“For me?” you ask, your hand coming up to rest on your chest. 

“Yes! I knew as soon as we started making ‘em in class, I wanted to give mine to you.”

This is the one. This is the straw that broke the camel’s back today that has the tears finally emerging. You bend down to give Luke a big hug, trying to hide the tears while doing so–you’re not sure if he’d understand that you’re crying for a good reason. 

“Thank you,” you tell him. “I love it so much. Can I put it on the refrigerator?”

“Uh huh.”

You move a few scattered magnets out of the way to place the hand turkey front and center on the fridge. It gets held up with a magnet shaped like a heart–which Luke made at school for Valentine’s Day. While you’re busy admiring your new favorite art exhibit, Eddie and Ryan have left the kitchen and headed into the living room. You don’t even notice until there’s a crash in the room just a few feet away.

“We’re okay!” Eddie calls. “Just a VHS avalanche.”

Chuckling to yourself, you walk out of the kitchen and tilt your head in curiosity. 

“What’re we watching?”

Ryan holds a VHS up over his head in triumph, leaving Eddie to be the sole person to clean up the avalanche of fallen movies. 

“A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!”

Luke comes into the room behind you and taps your hip to get your attention. “Are you going to watch the movie with us?” 

“Of course I am,” you say, giving his curls a ruffle. “I love this movie. But I love you Munsons even more.” 

A grin so bright lights up Luke’s face that it leaves you a little surprised. He looks more excited than when you told him he had most of this week off from school the other day.

Eddie gets up now that the VHS tapes are fixed.

“Why don’t you two put the movie in?” he asks as he walks over towards you. “Babe, will you help me put the pie in the oven?”

“Sure,” you say, a little confused about what he’d need help with. Opening the oven, putting the pie in, and then closing it seems like a pretty simple task. 

Eddie takes your hand and leads you into the kitchen. He stops right in front of the oven and peeks over your shoulder to make sure the boys didn’t follow. When he sees the coast is clear, he rests his hands on your hips and gives you a small smile.

“You just looked a little confused about Luke’s reaction,” he says, before smirking and adding, “I may not be a competent cook, but I can put a pie in the oven by myself.” 

“I’ll still be here for supervision if you need it,” you tease. “But yeah, Luke looked like someone just told him he was getting that dog, not that I’m watching a movie.”

Your boyfriend sighs and rubs his hands up and down your sides, letting his thumbs dip under the hem of your shirt.

“We watch The Charlie Brown Thanksgiving every year; it’s a tradition. Brittany never watched it with us, though. She’d either be too tired, had to make a phone call, blah blah blah… So, not only the fact that you’re watching it with us, but you’re happy to watch it with us is something new to him.”

Tears flood your eyes, and you feel your heart double in size in your chest. You’re pretty sure this day is going to kill you before it’s out.

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to him.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with an adoring smile. “You mean that much to him. To Ryan. To Wayne! God damn, I thought the old man was gonna stick me in the oven when he saw how stressed out you were.”

You let out a soft giggle and take both of his hands in your own. “I don’t think Roast Eddie would have been as good as the turkey.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “I have it on good authority that I taste delicious.”

“You’re a perv!”

As if to prove your point, Eddie grabs your ass.

“Only for you, babe.” He laughs and takes a deep breath. “But I really am sorry that I stressed you out today. I’m so used to you having everything under control; it didn’t occur to me that you could’ve used my support.”

You nod and give the one hand you’re still holding a small squeeze. “It’s okay. And now we know for next year.”

Next year. Because you’re going to be here next year, and every year after that. You’re his girl, part of his family, and he intends to make sure it stays that way. 

Eddie grabs the pre-made pie out of the freezer and pops it into the oven. He wipes his hands off on his jeans and takes full advantage of the two of you being alone to pull your body up against his. You think he’s leaning in for a kiss, but he leans in and licks the tip of your nose. The unexpectedness makes you giggle and wrinkle up your face.

“Are you sure you’re the older one in this relationship?” you question.

“Older, yeah. More mature? Never claimed that.” He gives your ass a playful swat before heading back out to the living room, you following along behind him.

Eddie plops down on the couch, Wayne already comfy in the La-Z-Boy recliner next to it. You sit down on the couch as well but leave space between you and Eddie in case either of the boys wants to sit there. Both manage to squeeze themselves between you, making both of you chuckle as you scoot toward the respective arms of the couch. Ryan is on the cushion with Eddie, while Luke sits by your side. 

As Eddie hits play on the remote, Luke shifts at your side. He keeps moving and squirming around, never seeming to get comfortable. It’s not unusual for him to be a hyperactive kid but he’s usually ensnared by movies the moment they come on. 

“You okay?” you ask him.

He nods twice and looks up at you, a hesitant expression on his face. 

“Can you, um… Can I, uh…” He trails off, looking at your arm closest to him. It takes a moment for your brain to figure out what he wants. Happily, you lift your arm and give Luke a smile. He immediately curls into your side, and you wrap your arm around him. You have to take deep breaths to keep yourself from crying for what feels like the millionth time today. You’ve run the gambit of emotions these past twelve hours, so it’s nice to sit here and relax.

You look over and see Eddie watching the two of you, also grinning. Ryan is leaning into Eddie’s side, but not curled up and close like Luke is with you. Needing to express your emotions in some way, you lean down and press a kiss into Luke’s messy curls. His head pops up and he looks at you. Slowly, a big smile spreads on his face, identical to his father’s. Luke leans up and presses a kiss to your cheek before resuming his previous position tucked into your side. This time, a few tears do leak out–you’re just careful not to let them fall on the small boy.

As the movie gets going, you take a second to look at the others in the room; Wayne, relaxing with a can of Diet Pepsi in his hand and watching the movie. Eddie, the television screen reflecting in his big brown eyes. He grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and lays it across his and Ryan’s laps. Then Ryan, who pulls the blanket up to his chin and snuggles back against the cushions to watch the movie. Last but not least, little Luke. The mini-Eddie. A ball of energy one moment, melting your heart with his sweet words the next. 

You smile to yourself and whisper, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, “God, I’m so thankful for you all.”

[magicshopaholic]

Words Unsaid (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: Jungkook has something he wants to ask you, but the timing just never seems to sit right.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.3 K

Warnings: none

A/N: This took longer than expected to post (but a surprisingly short amount of time to write). Savour it, for the angst will be back in full force next fic :D Takes place a couple of weeks after Unfinished Business and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton @sumzysworld @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "thinking out loud" by ed sheeran

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

The sun is near setting when lunch comes to a natural end. Namjoon places his credit card on the bill out of habit and, somewhat conscious that it’s not just the two of them here, Jungkook drops his on top of it.

“All good, kid.” Namjoon good-naturedly flicks Jungkook’s credit card off the bill just before the waiter picks it up.

Feeling Lia’s eyes on him, vaguely amused, Jungkook feels his ears heat up and quickly pockets his credit card. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” he asks, desperate to change the topic.

“Not much.” He shrugs. “Probably pick up some stuff at this store we saw earlier today, then maybe a walk down the Han if it gets cooler…” He turns slightly as Kaya returns to her seat, fluffing out her hair a bit.

“Seoul has never been this warm, has it?” she remarks. “I’m glad I cut my hair before I came here.”

“It should rain soon,” answers Lia, in her accented English. While her grasp on the language hadn’t necessarily been a surprise to Jungkook, the way it sounded - and how much he liked it - definitely was. She hadn’t ever spoken much English around him, for there was never much of a need, but when Kaya visited and they’d finally met, Jungkook discovered he was obsessed with her English accent. It made her sound older, unattainable and - ironically – more Korean.

“Maybe it will,” says Namjoon, nodding and looking out the glass windows at the sunlight.

“Maybe it will while you’re walking down the Han river,” points out Jungkook. 

“Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, that reminds me - can we make a detour home before we head to the market?” Kaya asks him. “I need to pick up my power bank. My phone’s almost dead.”

Namjoon nods. “Sure. You guys need a ride?” he asks Jungkook and Lia.

“Oh -” They exchange a look, for they were dropped by a company car after Jungkook finished filming a promo. “Actually, yeah,” says Lia, nodding. “We also need to stop by, uh, Jungkook’s house for a minute. You’ll want to change, I guess?”

Jungkook nods mutely, his neck getting hot again. He avoids Namjoon’s eyes; the older member’s subtle questioning a couple of days ago, about how serious is this getting, had been one thing. That, coupled with the abrupt way he and Lia had stopped talking when Jungkook had returned from the men’s room earlier during lunch, made him uneasily conscious that something was still unsaid.

They head out of the restaurant, waiting until Namjoon’s car is brought out by the valet before ducking inside quickly, Kaya in the driver’s seat and Namjoon in the passenger seat next to her. Jungkook notices a few phones out in the open and pointed towards them as they drive away.

“See you tomorrow!” Lia waves at them as they drive away from the porch of Jungkook’s building in Hannam-dong, where his new penthouse sits tucked into the top floor. As the car disappears around a corner, both of them turn around and head inside together.

In the lift, Jungkook watches the numbers increase, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip between his teeth. The words are there, somewhere, in moments at the tip of his tongue and in others, so far away that they may as well be someone else’s.

“Hey.”

He’s jerked out of his reverie. “Yeah.”

Lia is looking at him, frowning slightly. “Everything okay? You’ve barely said two words since we left.”

“I’m fine,” he answers as the lift stops and they step out, the doors opening right in front of his apartment. “I just, uh…” He pats his pockets and pauses. “... forgot my keys. I think. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters easily, reaching into her small sling bag for her own keyring and selecting the shiniest one. “This is when it helps to have a spare set with someone else,” she points out.

Jungkook nods sheepishly and steps aside so she can unlock the door to his home. “Actually, Lia…” He takes a deep breath as Namjoon’s face swims to the forefront of his mind, the familiar raised eyebrow and chin tilted upward that, irritatingly knowing but unwilling to give him the answer. No, he would want Jungkook to come up with the answer himself. 

He clears his throat as Lia pauses. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering -” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Just say it. Say it. He makes the mistake of glancing at her again, her raised eyebrows and - to his slight anxiety - hopeful expression.

Shit.

“Would you, um… do you think you would you like to…” 

Come on now, Jungkook, Namjoon would say sternly. Say it already.

“... try a beef bulgogi tonight? I know we usually do pizza on Sunday nights but I saw this recipe online and I really wanted to try it. Plus, we won’t even have to shop - we have that fillet in the freezer so part of the work is really already done, if you think about it…”

He’s rambling, he knows, but it’s only to try and distract himself from the annoyance at himself as well as the brief but clear disappointment in her expression. Her shoulders fall slightly and she bites her lip, turning back to the door and pushing it open halfway.

“Beef bulgogi sounds great,” she says finally, looking up at him after a moment’s hesitation, and giving him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He follows her inside, still deflated. Lia goes straight to the fridge for a bottle of cold water while he heads into his room, shedding his t-shirt on the way. Turning on the bathroom light, he grabs his facewash from the wall-mounted shelf, half-stocked with haircare products, face scrubs, masks, serums and a tub of scrunchies and claw clips. A Dior perfume he’d gifted her earlier this year was also there next to his own Calvin Klein cologne. 

Realising he’s been staring at her belongings for over a minute with emulsified facewash on his face, he quickly scrubs it off and hurries out, passing by her chest of drawers next to the closets. 

Jungkook wishes he wasn’t such a coward. He wishes he had the exact right words and that his mouth moved on its own to deliver the message to her. She’d helped him set up the apartment when he’d moved in last month; most of her belongings are here, she returns here more often than not after work, half the groceries in the pantry are stocked by her. She has a set of keys, she uses his extra parking space - but none of it matters as long as it’s still Jungkook’s house. 

In the kitchen, Lia is standing by the counter with a bowl of watermelon in front of her, scrolling on her phone. She looks up when he enters. 

“I cut the other half that was in the fridge,” she informs him. “Rest of it is inside.”

He swallows. “Thanks.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he would do without her. The house feels far too big and empty when she isn’t around and he wishes there were some way for her to get that message without him having to spell it out.

But if you do spell it out, comes Namjoon’s voice again, what’s the worst that could happen.

She could say no and then I could die, he thinks, shuddering.

He stands on the opposite side of the counter and leans over to examine the pink fruit. Lia raises an eyebrow and pops a piece into his mouth. 

“Wow. Sweet,” he comments, voice slightly muffled. 

She half-chuckles and nods, going back to her phone and taking a piece as well.

Say it. But is this really the moment? Does there need to be a moment? What would that moment even look like? What would she want that moment to -

“Kook,” says Lia, slowly placing her phone down. “I was thinking… I’ve been coming over here after work the last few days. And I’ll probably be here tomorrow as well, so…” She bites her lip.

“Yes,” whispers Jungkook breathlessly. If Lia were to ask the question - nothing like it. No chance of rejection, no scope for awkwardness. Of course, if any of the guys got wind of the fact that she had been the one to ask, they wouldn’t let him live it down, especially Jimin. Suddenly, he half-hopes she isn’t asking.

“Do you think it would be weird if, you know…”

Holy shit. Screw Jimin and his opinions. Despite a crappy first date a year ago, if this is really how far they’ve come since then, he should consider himself the luckiest man in the world. Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s heart begins to race. 

“… if I went home on Monday evening? It’s been a while and I have an important meeting on Tuesday and all my blazers are at home so in a way, I have to…”

Jungkook nods mutely, barely hearing her, for his heart is hammering so loudly he can hear it in his teeth. It occurs to him that Lia might have been anticipating the same question and subsequently felt the same disappointment, and it only serves to make him feel worse.

“… take my car, too. Jungkook?”

He looks up warily, irrationally worried his shame might be written on his forehead for her to see, possibly triggering her to pull the plug on this entire thing, this whole relationship, to save herself the embarrassment of dating a silly pop star who can’t string six words together -

“Hm?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he chokes. “Thanks for the, uh, the fruit.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but there’s a flash of knowing in her eyes. Not wanting to decipher it, for there’s no telling where his mind will take him, he shakes his head slightly and leans forward, kissing her on the cheek.

It doesn’t end there. Later that evening, Jungkook is still reeling from his horrendous inability to pluck up the courage to ask his girlfriend a simple question. The general mood between them seems to have gone back to normal, somewhat, but it nags at the corner of his mind.

They are heading to the executive floor gym in his building, accessible only to the handful of residents on the top floor, when another opportunity seemingly presents itself.

It’s a glorious workout in one of the best gyms in the country; in fact, Jungkook is rather upfront about it being one of the main reasons he chose to buy a property in this particular building in Hannam-dong. Towards the end of a particularly difficult set of reps on the bench press station, Jungkook looks up to see a face, upside down and hovering above him.

“Shit!” he gasps, gripping the barbell tightly so it doesn’t fall on him. 

Eunwoo grins. “What’s up? Wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“I could’ve died,” points out Jungkook, sitting up and giving him a friendly dap. “No, Lia wanted to work out, too, and it’s been a, uh… somewhat stressful day.”

“Yeah?” Eunwoo, also sweating and glowing, looks around the gym with his hands on his hips. “Lia is here? Oh, there she is…” He nods at the treadmills where she’s jogging fast, AirPods in and the rest of the world shut out.

They chat for a bit about nothing in particular, catching their breath. Somewhere during the conversation, while they’re at the water station and filling up tiny glasses with fruit-infused ice water, Jungkook wonders if the time has truly come to pick another’s brain. Eunwoo is a good friend and they’ve known each other a while, but it would be the first time he’s actively confided in someone else about his love life. From his experience, it could go either way.

While he’s pondering this, Eunwoo nods and flashes a smile at something over his shoulder.

“Hey, guys.” Lia walks over and pours herself a glass. Her skin pale and glowing, her cheeks flushed lusciously. The ends of her high ponytail stick to her damp collarbones and Jungkook bites his lip without thinking, ridiculously attracted to her at the moment.

“Noona, do you agree with JK’s plan of building a home gym?” Eunwoo asks, seamlessly continuing their discussion. “It’s going to be so much maintenance of equipment,” he tells him, shaking his head.

“Really?” Lia turns to Jungkook, frowning. “When did that happen? I thought you were happy with this gym.”

“I am - and I’m not planning on building a home gym,” he clarifies, suddenly anxious with both sets of eyes on him. “I was just discussing the merits of possibly having one.”

“Such as?”

“Well… privacy, for one. I know the building has good security but they're also fairly lax with allowances,” he points out, not wanting to specify the incident last week that had prompted this train of thought, when he was half-certain he’d spotted someone pointing their phone at him and Lia. 

“Allowances? You mean guests?” Eunwoo wrinkles his nose. “They don’t allow guests in here.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t. They don’t allow anybody but residents in the gym.”

There’s a brief but painful pause following his words. 

“They do, actually,” says Lia.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, they do,” adds Jungkook tightly, glaring at Eunwoo and moving his eyes deliberately in Lia’s direction, hoping to God he’ll drop it.

Eunwoo frowns slowly, apparently working this out. “What?” he mutters, shaking his head at Jungkook. “No, I’m just saying… wait, how are you so sure?”

“Because I’m technically a guest,” says Lia lightly.

“You are?” Eunwoo raises his eyebrows. “But I thought you were - oh.” To Jungkook’s horror, a blush creeps up his friend’s face. Lia goes still next to him and it takes every ounce of Jungkook’s strength to not turn in her direction.

For the next few seconds or so, the three of them stand there in silence, scarcely making a movement. 

“Excuse me? May I?”

“Yes! Of course, of course -” Jungkook immediately blurts out while Eunwoo practically trips over himself to take a step back and make way for another patron. 

“I’m going to stretch and cool down for a bit,” says Lia, touching Jungkook’s shoulder. “How far along are you?”

“Oh, I still have a bit to finish,” he answers, a bit apologetically. “I was going to box for a bit before ending with cardio.”

“That’s fine, I'll just head back h- uh, to your place and shower… if that’s okay?”

Not least because she hasn’t needed to ask such a question in months, Jungkook nods wordlessly. She gives him a small smile and moves away, and Jungkook watches her leave before turning back around to see Eunwoo giving him a look.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

Eunwoo chuckles as they head over to the boxing bag. “Man, I am so sorry about that. I really thought you’d asked her to move in with you - I thought part of the reason you bought a new house was because you wanted her to move in. You were asking about bathrooms with his-and-her sinks, man. What happened?”

“Okay, first of all, I only asked if you’ve ever seen one in real life - not that I wanted one,” he corrects immediately, strapping on his gloves while Eunwoo gets behind the bag, ready to hold it. 

“And the other thing?”

“I’m working on it,” mutters Jungkook, going into stance and holding his hands up. “I just want to do it right. Make sure it’s a good time, that I’m not hurrying anything - that kind of thing.”

Eunwoo hums and nods. “Well, if it helps, she didn’t seem freaked out. If anything, she looked a little annoyed.”

Jungkook freezes. “She did? She looked annoyed - wait, really? Are you serious?”

His eyes widen. “Wh- no. Not - not annoyed like that. Not like a pissed off annoyed, more like a… like a chill annoyed.” When Jungkook says nothing, he shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Maybe it is too soon. Or maybe it isn’t,” he amends quickly. “What do I know? You know my last three relationships lasted, like, four months each - so I’m probably not the best person to be giving you any kind of advice.”

“That’s the most airtight thing you’ve said so far,” mutters Jungkook. “Alright, I’m coming in.” Waiting a moment for Eunwoo to grip the bag, he cocks his elbow back and punches it.

—

Despite his deadly faux pas, Eunwoo had inadvertently provided Jungkook with a rather helpful bit of direction. Perhaps it is time for him to lean on a friend for advice, but Eunwoo was also right that he is not one of them, not with his flighty flings and lack of depth in them. The advice matters and so does the friend, prompting Jungkook to ask himself: which of his friends is the expert on the opposite of short-term flings?

“Namjoon hyung!”

Namjoon stops in his tracks at the sound of his name and turns, waiting for Jungkook to catch up with him. 

“Oh, thanks,” says Jungkook, taking a cigarette from the pack Namjoon offers him and leaning forward so he can light it. “Thanks for getting us the evening off, by the way.”

“Kaya is leaving this weekend,” is all Namjoon says in response, shrugging.

“Right.” Jungkook nods, taking a drag and blowing it out, wondering briefly if he should care that they might be seen smoking right outside the Hybe building. “Won’t this make you a couple minutes late, though? If you want to make the best of the next few days?”

Namjoon chuckles. “I don’t want to smoke inside the house.”

“Uh-huh. Speaking of which…” He exhales, suddenly nervous. “I was hoping for some advice.” He clears his throat. “Regarding… relationships.”

Namjoons raises his eyebrows but says nothing else. “M-hm.”

“I have reason to believe,” he begins slowly, “that Lia might want me to ask her to move in with me.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook pauses, searching his leader’s face for a hint. Finding none, he continues. “Well… I want to ask her. But I also don’t want her to feel like I’m asking her just because she wants me to ask her. And I also don’t want to mess it up.”

“How would you mess it up?”

“I don’t know… maybe I’m completely off track and she doesn’t want to move in with me at all? Maybe she thinks it’s too soon?”

Namjoon nods, hearing him out. Then he shakes his head. “Well, personally, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“What isn’t? You think she wants to move in?” Jungkook’s momentarily relief is interrupted by a horrifying thought. “Oh, my God - did she say something to you? Yesterday, at brunch, when I went to the men’s room?”

“Jungkook, you were gone for two minutes.”

He’s about to argue but stops himself. He knows Lia and she is hardly the type to secretly vent her feelings to his friends behind his back, hoping it will get back to him. No, she’s more straightforward than that.

Somewhat satisfied, he takes a different turn. “Okay, let’s get down to it, then. How did you ask Kaya to move in?”

“Well…” Namjoon frowns thoughtfully. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“You… what?” Jungkook squints. “Wait, so… you didn’t ask? You both just knew, telepathically, when to start living together?” he asks incredulously, thinking privately that it could just be believable.

“No,” says Namjoon patiently, chuckling again and flicking some ash off his cigarette. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t have to. Where else is she supposed to live when she comes to Seoul? Where am I supposed to live when I go to see her?”

“Yeah… okay, but… well, would you say you live together?” he presses. “Or do you just, like, crash at each other’s place when you visit?”

“Well, we definitely don’t crash at each other’s place,” he mutters. “Maybe we did right in the beginning? I guess I’d say we live apart, but it’s only because we have to. I don’t know - when she came to Seoul for work last year while I was in service, she stayed at Hannam even though her aunt lives in the city, too.” He shrugs. “If that helps.”

“Huh.” Jungkook considers this. “So, like, do you guys ‘go home’ or do you go back to ‘your place’?”

“Home,” he answers casually, not skipping a beat. “Even her apartment is home. ‘Home’ is what you make it, to a large extent. It’s a place of comfort - an apartment is only part of that,” he says wisely. “I feel more at home in her studio apartment in London with her than at Hannam by myself. The people make the home - and that’s for you to decide.”

Jungkook stares, feeling his cigarette burn away in his hand. “That’s really not the kind of thing I’m looking for, hyung,” he states, before dropping his face in his hand.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and stubs his cigarette on the tray atop the trash can next to him. “Don’t overthink it,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go about it logically: she’s been your girlfriend for six or seven months now, you bought a new place which is significantly bigger than your old one and she’s in her thirties, meaning she’s most likely thinking long-term.” 

Jungkook gazes at Namjoon’s raised eyebrows, quite certain he’s meant to pick up some meaning out of this. “So…”

“So… if you’re worried she might say no…”

“Chances are… she probably won’t?”

Namjoon grins and nods. “Exactly. Just be yourself, be genuine, be honest - and remember you’re both together for a reason. And I think - I think - she has a thing for you, too,” he adds seriously.

“One can only hope,” he mutters, albeit slightly mollified. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Namjoon observes him - for too long. For a moment, it seems as though he’s about to say something that makes Jungkook’s stomach jolt unpleasantly, but at the last second, he shakes his head.

“Impossible to mess it up. Honestly,” he says reassuringly, and Jungkook almost believes him. “It’s a part of the journey and if you think she’s expecting it, just take the plunge. Don’t add unnecessary pressure by trying to make it perfect.”

While the last bit simply isn’t in Jungkook’s DNA, he nods anyway. 

—

“Damn it.” 

Lia doesn’t look up from the email she’s writing, despite Dal’s repeated exclamations from the kitchen. Finally, he sticks his head out around the door.

“Did you know the faucet is leaking?”

“Yes,” she mutters, still not looking away from her screen.

“And did you know it’s dripping out of the sink zone and onto the floor?”

“Yeah?”

“And did you know it’s fucking disgusting?”

Lia sighs and finally turns her head to glance at him. “Yes, I know. I mopped it up this morning.”

Dal steps out, frowning. “So this much water leaked in the last six hours?” When Lia nods, he sighs heavily and trudges into the living room, falling onto the sofa. “I suppose we can text the landlord but I don’t know what good that will do.”

“Probably as much as it did when we told him about the seepage in the bathroom ceiling.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realise the kind of shoulder strength you need to baste upwards.” A moment later, he chuckles. “Helped that there were three of us there, though. Jungkook was really looking for any excuse to be around you back then, wasn’t he?”

Without meaning to, Lia feels a smile creep up her face at the memory. “It was cute,” she says, slightly defensive. “And we really needed the extra hands, especially to clean up.”

“Oh, sure.” There’s a comfortable silence, the only sound being the clicking of Lia’s keyboard. “Speaking of,” he speaks, and his tone is slightly different, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lia doesn’t look up, but she’s certain she knows where he’s going with this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been around much.”

“You think so?”

“M-hm. In fact, I was starting to wonder if you’d moved out or something and I missed the memo.”

“You were still paying only half the rent, though, weren’t you?”

“Lia.”

“‘Sup.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees a movement and ducks out of habit.

“Lee-lee,” he says again, and she finally meets his gaze.

“I know what you’re getting at, and no,” she says dryly, “no updates on that front. I’m still your roommate for the foreseeable future.”

Dal raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

Lia turns back to her laptop but doesn’t resume her typing. “What?”

“What what?”

“You’re still looking at me.”

“No. I’m just looking in your general direction.”

She gives him a look. “Just say it.”

“I thought you were moving in with Jungkook.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he told me last time he came over that he wanted you to move in with him.”

Lia scoffs. “No way did he say that. Liar.”

“Fine, he didn’t use those exact words,” he admits, rolling his eyes. “But he just happened to mention that his new place is bigger, that the gym is fantastic, that it has a really good running trail or something…”

“Maybe he was just making conversation?”

“... and how much closer it is to the Hybe office.”

He works at Hybe, too, technically. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t deflect anymore; Dal will see right through it. She sighs and puts her laptop away.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks steadily. “We aren’t living together. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m not saying it is, at all.” He holds up his hands. “Do you want to, though?”

Lia is silent for a moment. “He needs to ask first. But… yeah, I guess. Could be fun. We’ll save on a lot of fuel.”

“Ooh, stop, I’m swooning.”

She flashes him an embarrassed sort of smile. “You know what I mean. We basically do live together already - but this is a big deal for Jungkook. He’s never done the long-term relationship, adult couple milestone thing before. The last thing I want to do is scare him off.”

Dal nods thoughtfully. “Well, hopefully it’ll go better than your last adult couple milestone thing.”

She snorts, covering her face. “Hey, to be fair, I did move in with him,” she points out. “Kind of.”

“You lasted less than a month before you were back here.”

“Yeah. God, he was such a manchild. Can’t believe I was ever attracted to him.”

“I told you he had an asshat kind of face. But you didn’t listen. Didn’t he have a shrine to his ex-girlfriend in the bathroom or something?”

“It was a couple of bottles of her shampoo and lotion, not a shrine,” she corrects him, “but, sort of. He was so blown away when I asked him to get rid of it - like, sue me, I don’t want to live with my boyfriend and sentimental haircare products belonging to his ex. It just goes to show, you never know enough about your partner until you actually share a living space together.”

“You think there’s more to Jungkook? Because I like him for you, honestly. But he seems to be a more…” Dal grimaces, trying to find the word, “... what you see is what you get… kind of person.”

“That’s a good thing,” she remarks. “Means there’s no lying, no games. None of that shit.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, it’s good you know what you want. How long are we planning to wait for him to pop the question?”

“We are not waiting for anything. I, on the other hand…” 

It’s a good question, unfortunately, one that Lia has deliberately tried not to think about because there’s simply no correct answer.

“... will take things as they come.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She narrows her eyes at her oldest friend, recognising both teasing masking genuine concern. “I’m not going to pressure Jungkook. And I’m not going to get my hopes up either,” she states, trying to ignore the quiet tugging at her heart and standing up, stretching.

“Hey, just say the word and I will -“ Dal makes a flailing kind of gesture and flexes his triceps, “- whip him into shape.”

“Oh, really? Not only will it probably be evenly matched, but who’s going to help you both carry cartons of beer into each other’s houses if you’re both maimed?” She taps her temple sarcastically.

“Well, you’ll be a resident in one of our houses at any given time so I guess we’ll be looking at you.” Dal shrugs in satisfaction as Lia chuckles and starts heading inside her bedroom, considering a shower before bed.

“Oi, Lia.” 

Lia turns in her doorway, recognising the subtle change in tone once again. It wasn’t surprising that Dal and Jungkook got along easily enough; despite her boyfriend’s initial reservations, most of which were based on Dal’s gender and inopportune timing, he had eventually moved past it to begin actually enjoying his company. Oh, he would never admit it, but Lia had woken up more than once in her own bed, alone, while hearing two male voices laughing in the living room with the television on.

As for Dal, the only thing he had needed to say was “Lee-lee, for once, you’ve found a good boy.”

Therefore, while Lia prefers to handle her relationships herself, she recognises the value of her oldest friend’s opinion.

“I just want to let you know,” he begins seriously, and she feels the muscles in her face go slack. He bites his lip. “I just wanted to let you know,” he repeats, “that if Jungkook has a shrine to his ex in his house, you can always move back in here.”

There’s relief, and Lia doesn’t want to admit there’s relief. “Shut up,” she mutters, turning back around as Dal laughs at his own joke behind her.

It’s not the greatest comfort, but Lia uses it as such after that. Worst case, I move back in with Dal, she thinks. We stay roommates until we’re eighty, when either I die first from stress about work or he does driving his car like a maniac. Jungkook brings a carton of beer to the funeral and shares it with whichever one of us is still alive.

It’s a mildly depressing train of thought, especially when she imagines her eighty year old self heading back to her apartment while seventy-seven year old Jungkook, in his infinite wisdom, still hasn’t asked her to move in with him.

Nearly a week later, Lia has successfully kept her desires to herself, while Jungkook has continued trying to pretend he isn’t thinking about it just as much.

“Remind me again why we’re going to this club?” she asks him as they walk to his car in the basement parking. “It doesn’t really sound like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” he admits. “But the DJ tonight is a friend of a friend… of an acquaintance, who’s also kind of an ex-colleague.” He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t normally go but he helped me out during the production of my debut album and I accidentally told him I owed him.”

“Ah. Mistake number one.”

“It might be. You look quite club-ready for someone who doesn’t really enjoy clubs either,” he remarks, playfully smacking her backside. “Leather pants and everything.”

“Faux leather,” she corrects, leaning over and bumping his hip with hers. “I figured I may as well look the part of a popstar’s girlfriend. Plus,” she adds after a moment, as they climb into the car and begin strapping in, “it’s the only party outfit I have at your place.”

Predictably, Jungkook freezes for a moment before clumsily buckling himself in. He doesn’t meet her eyes and swallows as he looks ahead.

“By the way, I hear the gin martinis at this club are to die for,” he declares, completely transparent. “Did you know, the martini is one of the top five drinks people order on a first date?”

Abrupt subject change coupled with a random fact that doesn’t sound completely true; Jungkook is nervous. It’s exasperating and endearing all at once.

“That’s… interesting. Maybe you should’ve invited your single friends tonight. Or if this DJ is an ex-colleague, at least the ones in your group.”

“What, all two of them?”

“Isn’t it three?”

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook shrugs as they pull out of Hannam Hill. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know. Yoongi hyung isn’t very forthcoming about his dating life and I’m too afraid to ask.”

Lia chortles as they turn into the main road, reaching for her party clutch for her phone, when she realises…

“Oh, no,” she mutters under breath.

“What?”

“I, uh…” She bites her lip, internally swearing at herself. “I was moving stuff from my regular bag to the clutch and I forgot… you know what, can we make a quick detour to my apartment? It’s on the way.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. If you take a right after the signal then you can take the parallel road to the church at the end of my street.”

“That’s not the same road - and come on,” he whines, his shoulders falling. “I don’t want to take a detour. What did you even forget? Power bank? Because my phone is fully charged.”

“It’s not a power bank - look, it’s kind of important, Jungkook. It’ll take, like, five extra minutes.”

“But -”

“Kook!”

“What? What did you even forget that’s so important? Is it make-up or something? Because you look -”

“It’s tampons, Jungkook.”

“It’s -”

“Tampons,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to stop at a drugstore because they may not have the exact brand that I use and most of the others chafe… down there.”

There’s a few seconds of silence while Jungkook stares out of the windshield as the car zooms down the road, his ears turning red.

“Which signal was it again?”

True to her word, they reach her three-storey apartment building a few minutes later and jog up the stairs together.

“I swear, I just need to pick up a couple of extras,” she promises him. “The last time I was caught without any on me and then I had to borrow one and it was just the worst time I - oh, my God!”

Lia gasps as she stops in her tracks in the doorway of her apartment, Jungkook right next to her. 

“Is that -”

“Water,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Shit, it came into the living room? I thought we fixed that damn leak,” she mutters. She places her hands on her hips and looks up at Jungkook.

“Well?”

Jungkook looks blank. “Well… what?”

“Well… I’m going to have to wade in there,” she says slowly, already dreading it. “Do you want to come?”

“Ordinarily, I would love to because that sounds so fun, but these are Balenciaga.” He raises his right leg to show her his shoes, mimicking her position until Lia looks away.

“Alright. Wait here then,” she tells him, before gingerly placing one heeled foot into the water and cringing in anticipation. It reaches ankle deep, missing the hem of her pants only due to the height of her heels. With no specific attachment to her shoes, she takes a couple of more hesitant steps.

“Ugh, I can hear the faucet dripping from here,” she grumbles. “Sure you want to just wait out there?”

“Totally. You’re doing great, though, baby.” He grimaces as she walks further in. “Is it cold? It looks cold.”

“No, it’s room temperature. I’m just glad it hasn’t reached the sofa or the cushions or anything in the - whoa!” Lia grabs the arm of the chair beside her as she slips, thankfully saving her ankles as her knee breaks the fall.

There’s a sound of splashing before Jungkook is right next to her a second too late. “Shit, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. No injuries, I think.” She twists to see him kneeling next to her. “What happened to your Balenciagas?”

It seems to have occurred to him only now. “Oh…” He looks down at his shoes, now submerged. “I can try blow drying them, probably?”

“Probably.” She tries to hide a smile before giving up. “Take them off before they get any more damaged, though.”

He takes her advice this time and they both rid themselves of their shoes, tossing them on the chair before splashing their way into the kitchen.

Jungkook whistles. “Wow, that’s some leak,” he remarks, following her as she falls to her knees to get a good look at the thin but steady stream of water spilling from a crack in the pipe. “Is this the only leak?” he wonders out loud before pressing his hand against the crack so the water suddenly stops.

“No, there’s a small one here, too,” she answers, squinting at something on the other side of the pipe, a little higher up. “It’s only a few drops out of this one but it’s still bad enough.”

“Maybe we can -” Jungkook grunts and tugs at the pipe, “- wrench it into place? To block this crack?”

“Doubtful. It’s a really old pipe, too, so I’m afraid it might break.”

“It’s metal - can metal break?”

“I mean… yeah? I guess? Look, it’s all rusted up here.”

“Oh, yeah…”

In his effort to look, Jungkook’s hand slips off the crack and the flow of the water resumes. 

“Okay, this can’t go on - we need to block this for now so we can get rid of this fucking flood,” she decides, noting in worry how the water level is slowly rising. “And I’m calling the landlord tomorrow and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Um -” Jungkook looks around from his position by the pipe. “We have a towel, some flour and stuff… maybe we stick some dough onto it?”

“Worth a shot but I don’t know if it’ll hold till tomorrow. Maybe we should try moving the pipe,” she admits, holding the top of it and wondering if it’ll work.

“Okay, let’s do that. Worst case, we find a plastic or metal box, cut it in just the right dimensions to cover the crack and fix it around the pipe.”

“Worst case.” 

Jungkook waves her over and they grip the pipe together. “If this goes south, just remember that I love you.”

Despite the chaos and the fact that her faux leather pants are damp and disgusting, Lia snorts. “Shut up, you dork. Come on, let’s do this.” Both of them pull the top part towards the lower one to try and close the gap.

“A little to the left, come on…”

“It’s - not - moving -” Lia bites her lip and jerks the pipe back, accidentally slipping again and falling back onto her boyfriend. The jolt makes Jungkook tip over and the pipe twists on the rust, bursting.

“Oh, my - “ Jungkook’s words are cut off when a jet of water hits him square in the face. Lia gasps and reaches for the pipe as he fumbles, sputtering, and lunges towards the pipe to turn it away.

“Jungkook, no! It’ll break if you -” 

But Lia is cut off as well and almost knocked backwards by the force of the water. It’s everywhere now; her clothes, her hair - she’s fully drenched. Next to her, Jungkook looks like he’s been dunked into a lake, his long thick hair sticking to his forehead.

“Take cover!” he yells, pulling open a cabinet behind him with one hand and yanking something out, while the other hand covers the jet of water uselessly. He replaces it with the lid of a cooking pan and tosses her another one which splashes into the water next to her.

“Thanks! I - Jungkook!” She brandishes the utensil while trying to dodge the water. “It’s a sieve!”

“What?”

“It has holes!”

“I can’t see! Wait -” He crawls towards the cabinet but slips midway, swearing loudly. 

“Careful!” She ducks and tries to get to the pipe but feels him grip her forearm and pull her back.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” he yells, handing her another pan. “Jesus - how did you guys let this stupid faucet get this bad?”

“I told you - our landlord is a jackass who ghosts us if we bring up fixtures!”

“Well -” Jungkook pauses, wincing a little as the water continues to ricochet off the pan he’s holding up. “In that case, this is probably as good a time as any to ask you this, but do you want to move in with me?”

Lia almost swallows a mouthful of tap water. “What?”

“Just - I mean, this apartment is unlivable!” he says loudly. “And I’m a much better landlord! And also -” He gags and spits out some water, “- I love you and all!” He shrugs awkwardly, drenched to the bone with his oversized t-shirt sticking to his shoulders and chest.

Lia tries - she really tries - to keep a straight face, to attempt to understand what goes on in Jungkook’s head. But it’s a lost cause, for at the end of the day, whatever it is, it just works. Through the irritation at her landlord and the general shock of being waterboarded by a broken pipe, she sees it. A shine in his doe eyes, a hint of nervousness. 

She doesn’t realise immediately why the water hits her suddenly with force or why Jungkook’s eyes widen belatedly.

“What are you doing? The water is - oh.” The anticipation turns into the beginnings of a smile when he works out why she has knee walked all the way towards him and he stands on his knees as well, just as she reaches him and places her arms around his neck, and kisses him.

When she pulls away, he’s grinning. “That’s a yes?”

“That’s a thank God you finally asked.” 

Jungkook nods sheepishly. “I wanted it to be perfect, honestly. I was just waiting for the right time and -” He sighs, shaking his head so droplets of water fall from his hair.

“You know what? I think this, unexpected as it was, is pretty perfect,” she says honestly. “So… I guess that’s a yes,” she clarifies, meeting him in a kiss once again.

There’s a muffled sound and then a splash, followed by a gasp.

“Oh, my God! What the fuck?”

Jungkook jerks away, pursing his lips. “As long as he is never allowed in our house,” he declares, glaring and pointing in the direction of the living room.

She gives him a look. “Pretty sure you’ll crack before I do on that front,” she guesses, just as Dal appears in the doorway of the kitchen, looking incredulous.

“What the fuck happened in here?”

“What do you think? That damn faucet,” she snaps, pointing at it. “This is the landlord’s problem now - he and his insurance can handle it.”

“I agree, but - God, are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we were using lids…” Jungkook picks his up and places it in front of the stream of water, much more unfazed about it now than he was before. 

“Lids? Why didn’t you guys just turn off the water?” Taking a long step across the flooded kitchen floor, he reaches for a panel behind the left-most cabinet and twists a lever - and the water stops.

Speechless, Lia turns to look at Jungkook who is looking back at her with equal dismay. “We thought of dough before we thought of turning off the water,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And we’re taking it to the grave,” she replies, squeezing his hand.

He’s wet, his designer clothes ruined - but Jeon Jungkook is glowing. A moment later, he squeezes her hand back.

“Deal.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

[evilminji]

You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

[sugurumybeloved]

⤷ I can be better.

masterlist! | previous post!

synopsis: coming to Yuji's with a broken heart, he definitely changes your mind on dating again.

pairings: yuji itadori x reader ! :D

warnings: um not that I know of 🐥.

Tears stream down your face as you run through the neighborhood. Some  drivers honk at you rudely and you trip a couple times but you made it to his house. Your balled up fist knocked harshly at the door as you waited for Yuji to answer.

When the door opened, your eyes fixated on him. His hair was a messy mop of pink strands. He looked down at you with heavy eyelids and a confused smile.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asked confused, leaning on the door.

“Just open the door, please.”

Yuji wasn’t good with reading cues, or understanding cues. Being the sunshine person he is, he accepted, letting you in.

“So, uhm, what’s wrong?”

A low, shaky breath draws from your lips as you blink back more tears. Yuji hesitates to ask again, stepping back from you.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

His shoulders started to slouch as he looked for ways to help you. You did just walk in his house without saying what’s wrong anyway.

“Y/N, come.” He calls you over gently. You walk over to him, where he pats the seat of the couch next to him. You sit, leaning on the back of it. He noticed how your normal bubbly demeanor was gone and you seemed distressed. His lanky fingers outstretched to your hand, covering it.

“If you’re worried to tell me, it’s fine. But I’d like to know before you leave, please?”

You feel a burning sensation in your eyes as you blink fast again. You hate when people can see you like this, but what’s the point of coming over and not talking?

The pink haired boy waits patiently as you sit there, watching you.

“So, uhm, remember when we went out with (boyfriends name)?”

He nods, with a smile on his face. “Yeah! The guy who paid for all our stuff from the mall, right?” 

“Yeah, he-“  “And I remember that photo he showed us of you!” He rambled on, almost like he couldn’t stop. “It was so adorable-“

“He cheated on me.”

Yuji was stuck between silence and words, his expression too difficult to read. He wanted to say something so bad, but he was too shocked. Soon, he felt Sukuna switch in, those familiar black lines fading in his face. 

“He did what?”  Sukuna’s menacing voice sent shivers down your spine. Him and Yuji were very distinctive now.

“Yeah, and he told me he didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it? Obviously he did. His loyalty is as shallow as his morals.”

 You giggle a bit, your hand covering your mouth.

“That wasn’t supposed to be funny, brat.”

“I thought it was!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking down at his nails. He looks back at you with a grin.

“Are you going to be like those other amusing humans and get revenge?”

“No, I think I’ll just be on my own for a while.”

Something sparks in Yuji, as there’s an abrupt switch. He pants, wiping his forehead. 

“You said you’ll be single for a while?”

“Yeah, why?”

You see him suddenly smile, him scooting closer to you.

“How about you give me a try?”

Your eyes widen and you deeply blush. His eyes search yours again, waiting patiently for your response.

“Is that a yes?” He says, his thoughts almost contradicting him. Even with his smile, he hopes that you say yes.

“Well, I’m not saying no, but don’t you think it’s too soon-“

Yuji’s rosy pink lips smash onto yours, cutting you off. The kiss feels so rushed, but so right. There’s a sense of euphoria in the air as you return his kiss. His fingers find their way in the nape of your neck, traveling to your hair. Your hands cup his face, the pad of your thumbs on his plump cheeks. After about a minute or two, you both part away, breaking for air. Your lips tingle, still feeling the remnants of his pair. As you look at him, his signature smile returns, shyly scratching his forehead. 

“Can we kiss again?”

~

[BONUS!]

Sukuna sits with his leg crossed in his chair, listening to the scene unfold from Yuji’s head.

“Ah, two brats falling in love.”

dt list: @1-800reki @ashlovelys @crowatemitsuri @psuedosugu @starykari @pinkbowwhitebow @kitkat-moon @ilovelinkk @stillnotherapy @suguvanilla @istanstraykidss @zellons @misthashiragf @mjustag1rl @stantengenandhisflashywives :3

works by sugurumybeloved©.

[romy350-romyakari]

Kingdom Hearts OC Week 2024

Day 2: Past

Day two is here and I reserved this section to inform you of her past as much as I can while make it somewhat digestible. Hope you have fun having another glimpse of her life in Daybreak Town from before and after getting here!

Lux actually left her hometown long ago, her mother heard of this particular town run by kids refer to as a good place where they can thrive so being the best option she and her sibling had they accepted their mother's request for them to try and find their own footing there. Their mother gets letters from them both since they arrived to Daybreak Town.

Once on Daybreak Town she found that as long as she put in some work life there was quite sustainable if you got the hang of things. She worked for a long time in a part time job for the the post office and any other odd jobs. Living as a kid in Daybreak Town has benefits and it can be quite nice if you want a place to stay and make your own path, she wanted to earn a bit more to send to her mom if she could so she made her schedule a bit more busy at times back then..

When the power of the keyblade it came with the perks and change of work. The change was not as abrupt for her as one would think, she was kind of lucky she actually made a friend that was a keyblade wielder before she even became one and he show her the ropes and how to get the hang of it.

Lux used to have other style by her second year been a wielder finding more of herself and even if the work is tough she has started to find the balance in her life and routine, the perks if you actually adapt to the life a keyblade wielder. She and Chiri had a matching set and found their way to deal with the work as time went by.

She actually joined a party for quite a while! She had a nice time with them, how it ended is a bit fuzzy in her memories but she does think of them fondly.

Eventually the war approached, she can't remember that actually because of the plan we all know, keep the memories away to avoid the pain. She and her brother were Dandelions, but she was the last one to leave the town out of the two as she send him first and she would catch up with him on the other side. She was chasing for a clue of something she wanted to get at least some closure...

She made friends here and there and make some connections before the war but more on that for tomorrow. I promise it will be fun!

After the Dandelions were transfer to the data and relieving their memories actually she took some turn, like adapt her gear since something in her did felt like she would want a better situation been sent to the desert that is why there is a contrast to her wardrobe on a mission and in her free time.

She still does what she did back then but what are the changes once shit hits the fan? More on to that on Day 7 :D

[whoseravenwrites]

idk if billzo is okay with smut but could you write some with him that would be greaaat IF NOT some fluff would work too (also i love ur writing)

'You're so clingy'

A/N : HELLO!! so I looked up and I think billzo is not okay with smut, so i'm writing you fluff :)!! hope you like it :D (also tysm that's so sweet)

not propf read!!

tw: abrupt ending (i'm so bad at ending)

cc!billzo x gn!reader

word count : 474

my masterlist

Being public had been a step further into your relationship with Billzo, so when he announced on stream that his partner had moved in with him, the chat went crazy. Especially after you announced on twitter than you had, in fact, moved in with Bill.

By putting the pieces together, the community understood, neither of you expected them to reach that well to the new, so I could only imagine your surprise when both of you received tons and tons of support messages.

He was streaming in his room, as usual, you were bored, didn't change much from the usual either.

You walked to his room, hoping that maybe you could get his attention for a bit.

You knocked on the door, not waiting for an answer before opening the door as he turned around in his chair, putting his headphones on his shoulder as he took them off.

"Hey!" He said, greeting you with a big smile. You could see the chat on his monitor go absolutely crazy as you entered the room.

"Hiii!! Hi chat!" You said, walking closer to him, leaning down slightly so you could fit in the frame, waving at the chat.

The look on Billzo's face could only be described as love, and chat started pointing it out.

'Omg he's blushing!!!!' 'Best couple!!' were fillinf the chat.

Billzo cleared his throat in his usual goofy manner [the word in itself is goofy af].

"You need anything ?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

" 'M just bored" You simply shrugged, sitting on the floor next to his chair, only your eyes and forehead were showing as the rest of your face and body was hidden with your boyfriend's desk.

He simply laughed before going back to content creation, he was just playing minecraft, nothing too fancy, nothing too scary. Which was great since you were watching aswell.

His left hand slowly found their way to your hair, resting on top of your head as he was simply talking with the chat. You leant onto his touch, smiling softly as he started tangling his fingers in your hair. It didn't go unnoticed to his chat, you were reading the fast words scrolling across his monitor, you already knew that you'd be seeing tweets and maybe edits about it the next day on tiktok, but you didn't mind, you liked Bill's presence, and his hand in your hair felt so natural, like it belonged there.

He ended the stream, saying bye to his chat before looking down at you.

"You're so clingy." He said jokingly, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"You love it." You said, standing up.

He smiled slightly, acting as if he was thinking for a moment.

"Yeh..yeh I do, unfortunately" He finally responded, putting his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him in a sweet embrace.

[tj-dragonblade]

Tell me something about the academic conference AU? :D

The Academic Conference AU is a long-term beast that started life more than a year ago as a quick smut fill for the prompt 'bed sharing' and turned into an anticipated four chapters of hooking up (at an academic conference) and relationship development (assuming I can see it all the way through). There are pieces of it scattered all over and tagged for convenience and here is a second-chapter snippet that I shared on Discord last fall but that has not been seen yet on tumblr:

"Hope these next panels are at least interesting," Hob says through his last bite of tikka chicken sandwich back in their room. "It's awful when it's the boring shit." "And did my presentation fall into this category?" Dream is cross-legged on the rollaway bed, giving Hob that same coquettish look that's been steaming up his glasses for the past couple of days. "Course not," he says, winking as he leans back in the desk chair. "You were riveting. Enthralling. Couldn't take my eyes off you." "Flatterer." Dream does not seem terribly upset about it. "In all seriousness, you were amazing." Hob leans forward again, earnest and sincere. "By far my favorite panel this year. You really know your stuff and you make it accessible and interesting." "I—well." Dream is decidedly more flustered by the sincerity, which Hob finds infinitely charming. "You—ah. You have something—" He gestures at his own face, changing the subject with an endearing lack of grace. "Oh? Oh." Hob swipes the corner of his own mouth with his thumb, comes away with a smear of mango chutney. He licks it off without a thought, pops the digit into his mouth to suck it clean. Dream makes a soft, strangled noise; Hob freezes and glances up, an abrupt awareness of symbolism and suggestion crashing over him belatedly. The look on Dream's face says everything, but he speaks anyway. "It becomes you. Having something in your mouth like that." Hob feels his temperature ratchet up a couple notches, and keeps his thumb where it's at as he swallows. He scoots the chair closer to Dream, wheels squeaking. "Yeah?" He pops his thumb out with a lewd wet noise and grins. "Such a thing to say, Dr. Murphy. Is there something you'd like to put in my mouth, perhaps?" Dream visibly suppresses a shiver, and his slow smile positively smoulders. "In due time, Dr. Gadling." Hob can't take it, this weighted flirting on top of the anticipation bubbling low in his stomach; he leans in close. "Sorry, sorry, there's just—something we didn't get to last night that I really want to do—" He reaches to touch Dream's face, draws him into a softly-open kiss. Dream tastes a bit like the egg and cress sandwich he'd just eaten and a bit like nothing Hob can describe, and he is just a little dizzy with it. He slides his hand around the back of Dream's neck, presses closer; Dream, frustratingly, twists out of the kiss and grasps him by the wrist, removing his hand. "Stop. Stop." Hob's heart plummets. "But…no?" Anxiety spikes sharp in his gut, the accusations of a dozen exes rising swift and ugly behind his eyes. Too fast, too soon, too much— Dream lowers Hob's hand in both of his, holds it grasped with the back of it pressed to his own chest, head somewhat bowed. "Do not misunderstand me, Hob." And that's when Hob feels the gallop of Dream's heart beneath his ribs, the way his breath is coming faster. "We are required to attend the sessions this afternoon, and if I kiss you—" his eyes lift to Hob's, shadowed by the thickness of his lashes and the flop of his curls and absolutely molten with intensity "—then neither of us is leaving this room for the rest of the night."

WIP Title Ask Game

[kairiscorner]

Quick little idea that you totally don’t have to do but it would be super cute if you could (no pressure ily work 🫶🏼) could you have Hobie with a partner (whatever gender(s) you want) who gets overwhelmed by loud noises, too much noise, fast and abrupt changes in anything, and bright lights, because of her spidy senses? I thought it would be cute seeing as hobie made his own watch and stuff that maybe he could make some special noise canceling headphones that block out the effects of her spidy senses (like the enhanced hearing/seeing part) I don’t know, you can take this however you want! Love your stuff and don’t forget to drink water and take breaks for yourself ❤️

-lots of love, 🥀 anon

HELLO 🥀 anon :DD THANK YOUUUU also ofc, i can do that >:) i hope ya like this, and thanks again <:DD

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too &lt;:D)

with great power came great responsibility, and great burdens that you couldn't exactly bear all that well. you were a more advanced type of spider person, in a sense, you were more advantageous for your capabilities due to your heightened spidey sense–but the payoff was that you could never turn off these heightened senses of yours. that meant that you saw, heard, and felt everything in the most minute details possible. and the worst part was they remained on even when danger wasn't even around–you were stuck like this, and you hated it.

you found yourself snapping or losing some self-restraint when you'd get overwhelmed by startling sensations, by sudden changes and abrupt movements. you hated getting mad about these because you knew they were unavoidable, just as unavoidable as your heightened senses being a part of your powers. the worst part was that it caused a lot of people to walk on eggshells around you, and you believed many of them outright want to refuse working with you because of it.

you were incredibly uncomfortable and wished you could do something about it, but all the noise-cancelling headphones and specialized sunglasses you used were all useless in practical fights. until, one hobie brown delivered an even better solution for your problems. "here," he said as he handed you pretty crude but intriguing accessories to you with a smirk. you raised an eyebrow as you took them from his hands. "what are they?" you asked him as he smirked wider. "ya put 'em on." he said with a shrug, his smirk unwavering.

you hesitated for a minute, you realized they resembled sunglasses and headphones–and you realized soon enough what he meant to give you and for what purpose. you wordlessly obeyed his instructions and put them on, soon... everything was dead quiet, everything was less intense. everything was peaceful as soon as you donned the accessories on. you couldn't believe it, the chaos stopped for one moment, and that moment was when you wore hobie's makeshift accessories.

hobie chuckled. "they work really well, don't they?" he asked as you soon took them off, and you nodded profusely, not realizing you were smiling the whole time when you finally found peace and quiet. hobie grinned as he held his hand up to give you a high five. "i've seen how much struggling you've been going through when you, y'know... get overwhelmed and all. not your fault, 'course not–it sucks you have to be punished for already trying to save the multiverse. so, i... did a little bit of tinkering, et voila. seems like i did a great job, no?" he said with a chuckle as your eyes welled a little with tears as you realized you'd finally find relief for all your troubles.

"thank you, hobie." you thanked him with a cracked voice as you gave him a high five, and soon, he placed his hand on your head and pat it a little. " 'course, if ya need anything else, i'm always right where you need me to be." he said with a grin as he soon headed off, with you watching him go, in total glee at his generous gift for you. maybe now you could join him on his more chaotic missions and get to know him a whole lot better... and he'd love that, truly.

tags !! @thecoolerdor @luvstarrstruck @fictarian @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @maxoloqy @solecitoszn @ii01vq @toneystank-3000

[letsquestjess]

Yeehaw! First kiss prompts?! If it brings you joy, may I please request...

"Are you sure about this?"

...with...

I feel like it's suited to Tech... but would be happy to read it for anyone you're feelin! <3

As always, feel free to ignore! :D

Hi Free!!! Thank you so much for the request! 🤗💜

First Flutter (Tech x GN!Reader)

Summary: Tech's first kiss with you comes as a bit of a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

Word count: 916

Warnings: Just a whole load of fluff!

-- -- -- -- --

Swinging your legs from the edge of the workbench, you almost tasted the salt in the breeze as you peered out of the opened rolling doors. On the horizon, the sea glittered, pinching at the afternoon sun and transforming the rays into watery silver glimmers. Waves soaked the shore and lapped at the pale grains and pebbles in a billow of foam. During this time of year, seaweed climbed high above the surface to make mischief for the coast fishers, snagging on their lines and pulling catches from hooks. 

In the workshop, the floral air from outside hung heavy, masking the odour of soldered metal and scorched trimmings. Weathered yellow paint trailed the rim of the wall shelves and worktops, and hulking, square columns held wide drawers, some of the lower units drooping open until Tech nudged them closed with his hip as he rambled. The far surface was cluttered with an assortment of half-finished projects and the bin full of scraps waited to be emptied. 

“Are you listening?” Tech said, standing to his entire height and tilting his head in your direction. With a slight annoyance, he pushed his slipping goggles back up his nose with a finger. 

“Yes,” you replied. “I’d be a pretty poor assistant if I didn’t.”

“What was I saying?” 

“You were explaining how the navigational system and early detection sensors will not only monitor sea depth but also keep track of aquatic life and allow trawlers to adapt quickly to sudden changes in weather.”

Tech let out a brief hum in approval and bent down to attach the final tiny motor to his project. “Can you pass me the-”

Before he got the words out, you handed him a hooked tool. A radiant grin brightened your features, and if it hadn’t been for the restless whir of the extractor fans above diverting your attention, you would have spotted the blush in his cheeks. 

Embarrassed, he kept his gaze down as he completed the last alteration and hoisted the apparatus into the crate with the others. As he placed the machine into the makeshift holders, it rattled and jingled until the outer pipes clicked into the clips. “We can deliver these in the morning,” he said, returning to the workbench. “They should not take long to set up.” 

“Between the two of us, they’ll be done in a couple of hours,” you agreed. “The fishers will appreciate them, especially after the last storm.” 

“I only wish I had thought of it sooner.” 

“You can’t blame yourself. From the moment you got to Pabu, you’ve been helping as many people as you can, but you’re only one person, Tech.”

“But I am not only one person now. I have you.”

The unexpected tender lilt in his voice made you pause, and you halted the aimless swing of your legs. You wished to let him know he could rely on you indefinitely, that you would be there as long as he wanted you to be, but all you managed was a nod.

“Perhaps we could make some modifications to the boats themselves,” Tech pondered. “They do seem rather old and while they are structurally sound, further protections would be beneficial.” As he speculated aloud, he absentmindedly reached for a tool behind your hip and jolted at the abrupt proximity. Nearly nose to nose, he faltered. 

“Would you like me to get that for you?” you asked, the question emerging in a tentative sigh and your gaze locked on his startled expression. He didn’t budge, his eyes singing of the pent-up emotions you had both been tiptoeing around for months.

The warmth of your breath fluttered across his burning cheeks, your thigh briefly brushing his hip and the stray curl dangling from his hairline tickling your eyebrows. Electricity sparked where your body met his. “I… I, um…” He swallowed determinedly, willing the words from his mouth, but all he could concentrate on was the softness in your eyes and the curve of your slightly parted lips. He wondered what they’d feel like on his, how they’d move and how they’d react to the lightest pressure. 

Need guiding him, he inched forwards and skimmed his fingertips over your cheek to cradle your face. His heart raced with anticipation as you leaned into his touch, daring to hope you craved that connection as much as he did. 

“Are you sure about this?” you said, noticing his hesitation. 

In answer, Tech bridged the gap, lips whispering of his affection for you with the first timid press. A tiny whimper escaped from the depths of his throat. When he’d contemplated kissing you in the past, he imagined a surge of fireworks in his core, consumed by an overwhelming passion. But what he experienced instead was so much better. His entire being was engulfed by a soothing calmness that was so wonderfully you it erased all his worries and relaxed his racing mind. He was right where he was supposed to be, and it lulled him into a sense of ease and purpose. 

Haltingly, he parted from you, breathless. He wanted to tell you to take it. To steal his breath, plunder all that he owned, for it was all yours to begin with. It would always be yours. “You asked if I was sure,” he said, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose and admiring the bright smile that twinkled all the way to your eyes. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

[hrefna-the-raven]

Heart of Steel

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Chapter 1

Songs for this chapter:

Summary: Elder Maxson makes his rounds through the airport, inspecting the soldiers training and to check how you're dealing with your punishment. Although he definitely did not expect to find you...singing...

Notes: this story will move a bit off canon obviously :) I promise the next chapter will be a bit more interesting and yes, songs will be an ongoing theme for this series :D

Chapter 2 - Tour of Duty

In the early hours of dawn, a solitary figure treaded the tarmac of the airport yard, savouring the warmth of the first rays of sunshine after another sleepless night. Elder Maxson, the man who carried the weight of leadership as his sole companion, was observing his men silently. Soldiers trained like clockwork, their laughter and the clanging of their tools against power armors echoing across the yard. His presence, his stern gaze was a subtle reminder of the devotion they poured into their tasks. Salutes punctuated the monotonous rhythm of work, an acknowledgment of the authority he wielded. The thought of you popped up in his mind again as he made his way to the main building, a triumphant smirk on his face. He was certain you would have learned your lesson by now, cleaning the latrines and the showers had brought every slightly rebellious recruit back on track quickly. He expected to hear the sulking grumble of resentment but most certainly not the lyrical notes that flowed through the building. As he entered the shower area, the echo of his boots was drowned by a different rhythm - music. A melody woven through the moist air and the gleaming tiles. Shadows danced to the tune, shaping an image of you at the end, holding a mop like a dance partner, your movements painting a bizarrely beautiful tableau across the tiled floor.

Let's rock , everybody, let's rock, everybody in the whole cell block, was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock

Maxson stood still, the stern creases of his forehead softening, his steel-blue gaze capturing your oblivious performance. You were supposed to suffer, to contemplate about questioning his orders, not to enjoy, yet there you were, swaying and laughing, your spirit untouched by the chastisement. An inexplicable warmth coiled around his heart as it reminded him of his own stubborn spirit and his love for music. His damned treacherous heart echoed with an unexpected rhythm, a dance that he had long pushed away for the sake of duty, a dance of life and love that you offered through your buoyant demeanour despite the hardships you went through after waking up from your two hundred year slumber. But while his heart danced, his mind refused to acknowledge this unfamiliar, unsettling sensation. He was the Elder of the Brotherhood after all, a stern leader, not a love-struck fool for a woman, a new recruit, he barely knew. He cleared his throat, startled you spun around and almost dropped the mop at the sight of him.

"Aspirant", he called out, striding towards you as his heart hammered in chest, "Really? Jailhouse Rock? While you're executing your punishment?", his strict voice echoed through the room.

You straightened, a smug grin lighting up your face. Whatever he had planned you'd be prepared and the warm feeling of delight filled your entire being.

"Well, Elder", you hummed, "should I not keep my spirits up, even in punishment? But if it's the song itself, I can change it."

You switched the channel of the radio on your Pip-Boy and another song echoed through the room.

Life could be a dream, sweetheart, hello, hello again , sh-boom and hopin' we'll meet again, boom

Arthur stood there in silence, the lyrics of the song whirling around in his mind, etching themselves into his memory, forever linked to your figure swaying and humming along with the tune. When you noticed the lack of his response, you turned the radio off, the abrupt silence hanging between the two of you, heavy with unspoken words.

"Maybe not the right song", you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

Breaking the silence, Maxson's dry voice pierced through the tension.

"Status?", he asked, his tone harsh and commanding. It was his way of deflecting from the vulnerable moment that had just passed between you.

"All done, Elder."

"Latrines?"

"Clean as a whistle, it'll almost be a shame as soon as the first sweaty cheeks touch it again.", you grinned.

The twitching of Maxson's eye didn't go unnoticed. It was a small crack in the facade he had carefully constructed, revealing the control he was struggling to maintain in your presence. Since the first moment you stepped up to him on the Prydwen, you were becoming a distraction that threatened to unravel the carefully crafted walls he had built to survive in this world. Despite facing this slight disadvantage, his determination to break through what he perceived as a charade remained unwavering. He never lost his spark and resolute nature but the past years had sapped the joy for the simple things in life. Bound by his duty, the boy, who's soul was forged from eternal steel, found himself sitting within his fortress of solitude that turned into an inescapable cage that denied him the very nourishment his soul needed to thrive.

"I have a vertibird on standby, fully armed and ready to depart. Use it to carry our message to Fort Strong and wipe those dirty mutants from the face of the earth", his voice was harsh but carried a yet barely perceptible tremble.

It was his second test, the continuation of his plan to...he inhaled sharply, clenched his teeth in an insidious moment of anger as the boundaries between his meticulously devised plan and his innermost desires began to blur before his very eyes.

"Yes, Elder. Will I be part of a team?", your soft voice snapped him back to reality.

"Of course. Such an important mission will not be entrusted to a single aspirant, especially not one who joined merely a day ago. You'll have a head paladin accompanying you and you will follow his instructions without questioning. The success of the mission will depend on it."

"Will I work with Paladin Danse?", you asked out loud, hoping that Maxson might indulge you with an actual answer.

"You'll be awaited on the Prydwen in 20. Report to Danse and get familiar with your power armor. Don't dally, Aspirant. Dismissed."

He managed to spin around just in time to hide his smile. His heart beat so fast it threatened to burst through his chest as excitement coursed through his veins like a wildfire that could potentially grow out of control.

You could sense a hidden smile lurking beneath his stern expression as he spun around, making a deliberate effort to hide it. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your nerves in thought of the upcoming mission. This was the moment you had been longing for, the chance to prove yourself as a member of the Brotherhood, just as, back then, you'd proven yourself during your first mission in the army, and you'll finally get a chance at proving your competence to him, getting closer into his well guarded space.

A nervous chuckle passed your lips as the realisation of your first mission in this new world and the prospect of having your very own power armour within the Brotherhood truly settled upon you. It was both exhilarating and overwhelming given the little time you had to prepare, knowing that the path ahead was filled with danger and uncertainty. You were almost thankful that your first experience in this radiated wasteland was your encounter with the Minutemen while fighting off a deathclaw in an old rusty power armour. You were determined to find out who this mysterious knight in power armour that you were supposed to follow into battle was, wondering if it could actually be Danse supervising you on this mission. You already missed the Paladin and his gentle but stern guidance. You placed the mop away and sauntered towards the Prydwen, whistling a soft tune, readying your mind for the battle to come.

Chapter 3 - Show no mercy

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 12

Jaskier puased, swallowed, then darted across the door way. He yelped and gibbered as Nerf darts started flying.

Geralt laughed as Jaskier danced around in the door way briefly, trying to dodge the barrage of Nerf darts he was shooting at him. The bard yapped as a few of the darts found their mark.

The guns were custom made. Geralt had f***ed with the mechanisms and now getting shot with one would definitely leave a bruise. And it didn't help that they were both bucka** naked.

They were playing Naked Nerf Gun War because Regular Nerf Gun War was boring, and Yennefer was out with the girls, so why not have a little Swinging D*ck Time ?

Jaskier retaliated. He stuck the Nerf gun out the doorway and blindly fired.

Geralt groaned loudly as one of Jaskier's haphazard shots nailed him in the ribs, adding another bruise to his collection. He ducked down behind the safety of the recliner and heard Jaskier bolt for the stairs. Geralt rolled out from behind his hiding spot...

Jaskier reached the stairs and laid down some last minute cover fire. One of his darts hit Geralt right in the dangly bits. Jaskier froze at the top of the stairs when he heard the strangled noise Geralt made.

"Geralt?" He saw him hunched over, holding his groin. Ooooh...f**k!

"Er, Geralt, are you, uh, alright?" Geralt straightened up, and Jaskier caught a glimpse of the murderous look in his eyes.

Jaskier ran for his life.

"I said no d*ck shots!" Geralt snarled, starting after him.

"I didn't aim for it, I swear-!" Jaskier screamed as Geralt didn't even bother to use the stairs. The Witcher just leaped and hauled himself over the railing.

Jaskier turned and sprayed more cover fire, hoping to slow Geralt down. He heard him grunt as some of the darts hit.

Geralt chased him down the hallway, getting him in the back twice, and almost turned an ankle as Jaskier suddenly changed direction and darted around him.

A Nerf dart hit him in the nads.

Everything stopped. Jaskier and Geralt stared at each other in mute disbelief.

"You little f**ker!"

"I DiDn'T mEAn tOo!" Jaskier screamed as he made a run for it while Geralt was still doubled over. He ran, blindly firing behind himself. There was another pained growl in a very familiar octave.

"Godsd*mmit!"

"Am sOrRy!"

"You're doing it on purpose!"

"AM nOt, I sWeAr!"

Jaskier whipped around the corner and slipped on a t-shirt on the floor. He went down with a surprised shout, landing with a series of thumps.

Geralt came skidding around the corner seconds later and saw Jaskier getting to his hands and knees. He was literally a** up, and Gerlat could not stop himself. He raised his Nerf gun and, with a maniacal crow of triumph, fired.

He got Jaskier right in his a**.

Jaskier was just getting up, knowing Geralt was only seconds behind him, when he heard the pop of the Nerf gun, and felt a very uncomfortable, very abrupt sensation in his nether region.

He's going from horizontal to vertical in a split second, screaming in shock and gripping his a** with both hands.

Geralt is just about laughing himself sick at the way Jaskier has snapped bolt upright to his knees, while holding his backside. But then he sees the look on Jaskier's face. It 's a mix of pain and shock, with a dash of slowly increasing fear.

Geralt *confused*: What?

Jaskier *eyes huge*: My a**...

Geralt: Yeah, I shot you in the a** because you shot me in the d*ck twice, and once in the balls. What about it?"

Jaskier *anxious pained whisper*: The Nerf dart...i-it's in my a**!"

Geralt: F**k...

Yennefer was having coffee with Madeleine and Vespula, enjoying a No Boys Allowed Day, when her phone rang. She heaved an irritated sigh when she saw Jaskier's Caller ID image.

She said a brief prayer to any god that was listening and feeling inclined to be merciful to her today, then answered the phone.

"Y-yEn..?"

A Voice Crack. F**k

"What is it?" Yennefer asked, cautiously. Jaskier's voice sounded very small and anxious. And there was a hint of pain.

"Yen, I...can you -- I know you're out with the girls-- but...can you...cOmE HoMe?"

"What happened, love? Are you alright? Where's Geralt?" Yennefer exchanged worried glances with Madeleine and Vespula. Something was wrong.

Madeleine and Vespula could hear Jaskier hesitantly begin to explain over the phone. They saw Yennefer's expressions go through several emotions. Worry gave way to annoyance, then disbelief, then came mild disgust, which finally turned to amusement.

Yennefer's mouth twisted with the effort of trying not to smile as she asked in disbelief, "You had a what?"

Madeleine and Vespula crowded around Yennefer to better hear the drama.

Yennefer gasped, then slapped a hand over her mouth to cut off the begining of a cackle that was trying to slip out. Her voice shook with the effort of holding in the cackle as she asked, "It wEnT WhErE?!"

A brief pause while Jaskier repeated what he'd said.

Yennefer was fighting for her life when she responded. Jaskier could hear her trying not to burst into outright laughter.

"I'm sorry, my love, but you're on your own for this one."

"But can't you just come and, and...magic it out?"

"I'm going to have to pass..."

"Yennefer, please?"

"Sorry, Jaskier-!"

"But...it's...it's uncomfortable. No-! I know I told you all those stories and about that one time! That was different! How?! What do you mean 'how'? Well for one, it wasn't violently and suddenly shot up my a**!"

"That's what you get for playing with toys that don't have a flared base, Jask!" Vespula interjected.

"Ves!"

"I'm sure it's not the weirdest thing you've put up there," Madeleine added.

Jaskier: *offended bard noises*

"You'll be fine, Starling, " Yennefer assured him, "It's just a foam dart. From a toy gun. Just give it a yank and it'll come right out--!"

"I, um, can't get it..."

"Why not?"

"Geralt, er, Geralt modified the Nerf guns. They shoot really hard now, and it's uh, way up there... and it uh, kind of...hurts..."

Jaskier heard Yennefer gasp.

"Are you f***ing serious, Geralt?! For f**k's sake--! Since you put it up there, you're going to f***ing get it out! Do you hear me?"

"Hmmmmm."

"Don't argue with me! Three times? Well that's what you get for playing games naked! Don't you blame him! You're the one who shot a f****ing Nerf dart up HIS a**!"

"Hm..."

"Don't roll your eyes at me either--! Yes you did, I could HEAR you! You better fix my bard before I get home or you're going to find some of your horse figurines mysteriously gone!"

"Hm!"

Jaskier sighed as Yennefer ended the call. So much for doing things the easy way. He turned to Geralt, a resigned look on his face.

Geralt sighed. "I'll go get a glove."

[drill-teeth-art]

Design process anon again!! Thanks for answering my question, it was really interesting to hear about your more "loose" process! | personally put a lot of pressure to have one final design for my characters so hearing how you change the character a little bit each time is really neat and a little comforting to not stress about making a final product and just enjoying the process!

Anyways, here's more I'm curious about so you have more room to talk! (Also sorry i might ramble on, I just love hearing people talk about stuff that they enjoy!)

Specifically with Frenzy and Motormaster what ideas made you choose to add such unique aspects to each character?

Like, what thought process led you to give Frenzy such a slinky/accordion body style and Mixmaster more subtle insect aspects when it's such a departure from each ones original G1 designs?

Damn it took me forever to get back to this ! Thank you so much for asking more I'm excited to answer! So here I go! Also, I'm glad hearing about my process is comforting for you in some way to ease up the perfectionist pressure in your own work!

Under the cut because I got a little rambly...

Anyway! Here I go about Mixmaster and Frenzy's designs! Frenzy first!

I can't really talk about Frenzy's design without mentioning Rumble because I designed the two to highly contrast each other! For Rumble, I kept mostly traditional, Transformers design qualities. Blocky and wide and square. And I even emphasized his chunkiness further for fun exaggeration with his design. And Frenzy is supposed to highly contrast him! They sport a much more high contrast palette of mainly brighter red on black as opposed to Rumble's mostly deep blues dotted with accents. I also wanted to give them some more unorthodox robot design details to make them stretchier, sharper, and more fluid in their poses and movements to go with Rumble's slower, softer, and more abrupt mannerisms. A snake motif seemed perfect to capture those qualities! And to capture that I figured an accordion look to their limbs would go great with them being a cassette and a stretchy snake! So for Frenzy, it was a very deliberate departure from standard G1 looks because they're supposed to be Rumble's opposite in a lot of ways.

Here's some art I made of them really featuring their stretchiness:

Anyway! For Mixmaster.

So Mixmaster is actually supposed to have a spider theme to it. The motif goes along with his character arc which I'm not going to summarize entirely right now. Their spider motif is also supposed to compliment Hook's scorpion motif. I also very much wanted to emphasize "Transformers are aliens with unique mechanical anatomy and some are good at keeping up a more 'human' illusion and some aren't" in this fan continuity, and Mixmaster is NOT great at holding up the illusion. The movement of its face is off with their speech. He eats with their barrel instead of its mouth. Etc etc. And I figured more subtle arachnid features would help emphasize the feeling of "this guy does resemble a human in robot mode, but I can see he's an alien". People LOVE to use arachnid and insect imagery in their alien designs to invoke the very "alien" feeling, so I figured I'd do my own spin on it! So that's sort of my process with that unexpected choice!

And here's some art of him:

And that's some of my thoughts about my design process for those two! Thanks for asking :D !

[stnaf-vn]

Hi i have so many questions for you and friend. If you want to you can answer them or you can ignore this ask i dont want you to feel overwhelmed!

What would happen if we said we hated friend after he abducted us?

Would he ever hit us if we tried to escape and succeeded? (Spanking included)

What would friend do if we escaped and he never saw us again? (Successful escape)

If we stopped eating, sleeping, being happy, ect. how far would friend go to nurse us to health again?

After being put in the basement, if we gave him nothing but hostility (kicking, screaming, crying, trying to either hit him or get away from him), what would he do?

Thank you so much for your time and patience! You're awesome. Please take care of yourself!!

Hello hello!!!

If you said you hated Friend, he'd probably respond with something like this:

"...Sweetheart...please don't say that. I know you don't mean that. We have so much history together, it'd be impossible for you to hate me. You know deep down you can't hate me.... You're mine, and I'm yours. That's just how it is! And I know you need time to adjust to it, and I am going to give you all the time you could ever need. Because I love and care about you. Even though you hurt my feelings a bit, I'm going to be patient because you mean that much to me. So, can you at least please try to see my point of view on all this?"

2. No he would never hit you! He is more of a manipulative yandere than one that uses physical violence. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting a single hair on your head. 3. He'd search the ends of the Earth for you. He'd use all his resources and time devoted to finding you. He'd sacrifice sleep, hygiene, his plushie shop....everything. All his energy will be focused on you...he'd be so depressed. 4. Friend doesn't use physical violence, but he is not above force-feeding you and forcing you to drink water and sleep. *cough cough* he will syringe feed you if that's what it takes *cough cough* He's also extremely confident you can't stay unhappy forever. 5. He's patient, he knows this is just a phase that you have to go through. It's such an abrupt change in your life so he understands. He'll be patient with you. He's not afraid to take a punch or two. :D

[sipho-pearl]

the instrumental of More Than Survive

I don’t really know any music theory or anything like that!! This is just my own analysis of what I thought while listening to it for the 23934847384th time !!! For this analysis, this is the accompaniment I am basing my analysis off of :D 

(an extension of my analysis into jeremy’s rhyme patterns, except I go off topic a few times but thats okay)

below the cut because it's pretty long!

The start of More Than Survive (MTS)’s melody is very different to every other song; rather than having a strong melody right from the start, it slowly winds up with the sound of Jeremy’s computer. In the opening lines, an electronic beat plays in the background as Jeremy sings. However, this is quickly replaced by a different beat during and after the 2nd verse, as the song quickly changes topic, mirroring Jeremy.

In the third verse, when we get to the main beat of the song, the song’s complete instrumental begins playing. While it is not that noticeable, this instrumental accompanies Jeremy’s strange rhyme scheme and adds to it, constantly changing and never staying in one comfortable pattern. If you listen to the instrumental, this is more obvious, but even from verse to verse the style of the song changes — while at the start, it sticks to a very electronic style, you quickly hear it transition into a more pop-esque style, the main theme, into very percussion and jazz heavy bits, areas with not much backing at all, and back and forth, as if Jeremy was constantly trying new styles in order to try and awkwardly fit in.

This accompanies the feeling that Jeremy expresses about being out of place and unable to fit into the school environment. While this is noticeable in every song that Jeremy’s in, it is primarily seen in MTS. There are even sections where the instrumental cuts out completely and abruptly while Jeremy continues singing; it’s definitely intended to be abrupt, off-beat and adds to the strange and out of place feeling that you get from the rest of MTS.

Looking at the verse where Michael comes in—Verse 17—we see another complete disruption to the (while vague) musical motifs via Michael’s entrance. When he enters, we see a shift to a Bob Marley-esque beat in the background, with Michael’s theme playing on top. Jeremy’s theme disappears completely, alluding to the fact that he feels like ‘player two’ in their friendship*. 

As soon as Michael goes, Jeremy slips back into the same irregular beat that makes up most of the song — as I stated in my rhyme scheme analysis, Michael is one of the people in Be More Chill who helps to balance Jeremy out and shows how they work better together, even if Michael does overpower/take control in the dynamic*, shown again by how their themes clash.

Then, suddenly, Michael’s theme stops, and Jeremy’s theme awkwardly transitions back in, further showing how he feels incomplete without Michael. It even segues back into the starting beat for a minute, before the instruments, one by one, slowly begin to transition back in.

*this may just be me reading way too much into this

[thecozykirin]

DWC Day 3 - Shame

@daily-writing-challenge

( TW: Implied / referenced SA and heavy subjects )

( Following up something sweet with something bitter! I’ve had a few comments before wondering why Soo-ha ended up running away from the monastery and I hope this provides a bit more insight to that part of her background. Do keep in mind the trigger warnings while reading it! This is definitely one of the heavier stories I've written. )

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

It’s just a cold.

At least, that’s what she believed in the beginning. Admittedly, there were bigger things on Soo-ha’s mind than the encroaching nausea that she had written off as the bubbling disgust and shame beginning to manifest itself.

But then food started to taste different, things she once liked to eat suddenly tasted…off.

It’s just the stress, it’s killing my appetite.

She got by believing that for a little while longer…but then came the cravings, food she had never shown interest in before she was suddenly craving with a fiery desire that made her drool.

“Peppers?” Soo-ha watched as her papa’s brow furrowed, and she felt her own fall with it. “Are you sure, Little Bell? You hate spice.”

All she could do was smile and offer a confused little shrug.

And her papa, her sweet and unassuming papa let out a chuckle. “You’re maturing! They say taste changes with age.”

Though her papa hadn’t meant anything by it, his words brought a pang to her heart, one that cut deep into her soul. It was a familiar pang, a hollow one.

Soo-ha came up with excuses for the fatigue, blaming it on overworking herself in the archives. She even came up with excuses for the tenderness in her chest…

But then came certain things that she couldn’t excuse, and that’s what ended up scaring her the most, the things she couldn’t write off to give herself a moment more of peace.

There was no excuse.

Not this time.

But still, whenever her papa noted her gradually worsening condition and rose concern she’d smile and double down. It’s just a cold, papa. She’d shrug her shoulders. You know how these things can be…you know how they are.

U-Jinn allowed this to placate him for a time…but by the end of the second month, just a cold no longer cut it for him.

And now here Soo-ha sat within the infirmary of the monastery. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Chieko, a rather skilled healer who had retired to the monastery after receiving a particularly nasty blow to the head during the war, lounging at her desk, a cinnamon stick poking out of the corner of her muzzle. Chieko had been sitting there a long time; the silence hung thick between them until the healer spoke up, finally breaking it.

“Y—you knew this for a while, d—didn’t you?” Her stutter was a bit more subdued this time, Soo-ha could tell she was putting in effort to do so.

Soo-ha tensed her jaw and kept her head low.

With a soft sigh, Chieko rose from her desk and moved to sit next to the smaller, younger Pandaren. “L—look, I’m not going to j—judge you.”

Soo-ha refused to look at her.

Chieko continued. “You’re not the f-first to hide a s-secret boyfriend. Y-you see plenty of cases like this in the villages. It’s not a big cause for s–shame.” Chieko then tried to offer a reassuring smile. “B-but U-Jinn is r–reasonable, you know t-this! He’ll b–be happy.”

Soo-ha sincerely hoped that her words were false, she couldn’t imagine this being so widespread. The mention of her papa caused her heart to tighten in her chest and Soo-ha’s bottom lip quivered. The thought of lying to him scared her…but the thought of him knowing the truth scared her more. Oh, the shame he would feel… His voice seeped into her head once more, a poisonous whisper. If he knew of the things you got up to in your spare time

Noting her silence, Chieko’s brow furrowed for a moment and her sage green eyes lingered on her…until there was an abrupt knock at the door which caused Soo-ha to jump.  Chieko noted this reaction as she rose to open the door, pausing at the sight of whoever was at the door. “Huili Silvershadow.” She addressed the Wukao coolly. “Y-you wounded?” Soo-ha felt her stomach flip, a wave of anxiety induced nausea sweeping through her violently, sending the fur along her spine standing up on edge. It was him.

The large male gave Chieko a smile, teeth idly showing through his lips. “I hope it won’t disappoint you to say that I’m not. I just came here to stop by, I heard U-Jinn’s girl is feeling a bit under the weather?”

Chieko blinked, taken aback. “Yes…he d-dropped her off.” Out of the corner of Chieko’s eye, she could see Soo-ha stiffen, both ears perked upwards in an alert position, like a rabbit listening for the breathing of a fox. So fitting that Huili was often referred to as one.

“Oh, excellent. Are you finished with her? I thought I may do my friend a favor and escort her back to their quarters.” Huili’s light tone contrasted with his wandering eyes, as though attempting to see past Chieko. On the surface, his intentions were as innocent as they came, but her keen ears picked up on the slight ripping of fabric as anxious claws curled into the cushion of the examination bench. 

Suddenly, it clicked. 

Soo-ha didn’t want to go with him.

Chieko’s claws tightened a bit on the screen. “S—she is present, yes. But f-far too unwell to move.”

Huili’s eyes snapped to Chieko with speed that would cause a lesser to flinch.

But it did not move her.

“Really now?” His head cocked. “What’s the matter with her?”

“S—severe case of a cold. T-the foreigners b—brought back new strains with them. Y—you know how it is.”

Huili stared at Chieko.

And Chieko stared back.

With a chuff, the Wukao agent eased back, nodding. “Of course, yes.” Folding his arms behind his back, he bowed his head. “I’ll let U-Jinn know…do prescribe her the best, yes?”

Chieko made a faint affirming noise in the back of her throat and she watched Huili turn and disappear around the corner. Slowly, she shut the screen door and stood there…ears perked as she listened to his departing footfalls until they were as faint as a ghost. She then turned around and headed back to her work station, sifting through the bottles.

Behind her, Soo-ha had retreated in on herself, claws removed from the cushion and instead, pressed into her biceps as she hugged herself.

The sight broke Chieko’s heart. “L-look…you d—don’t need to tell me anything. I don’t think…there’s a—anything that needs to be said.” Plucking a bottle free from the shelf, she eyed it over, adjusting her glasses. 

Soo-ha blinked, looking up as the taller Pandaren approached, holding out a small bottle of…something?

“…Y—you should know though, t–this isn’t a secret t–that can be kept forever.” Chieko nodded down at the bottle. “N—no one else needs to know that….this was more than just a cold.” Soo-ha stared at the small bottle, shrinking away from it a bit at the implications. Noting her reaction, Chieko chuffed gently. “T–there’s no shame in it, S-Soo-ha…you don’t n–need to make the decision now, but t–think about it, yeah?” There’s no shame in it. Soo-ha stared at the bottle, the glass cold against the pad of her paw.

Was that all it could really be?

Just a cold.