#it’s bringing me back to my roots and im not complaining | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.��

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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mypersonmyg · 3 years

Text

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment.

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep.

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids.

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own.

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips.

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls.

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions.

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip.

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place.

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom.

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?”

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.”

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being.

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst squealish giggling. “It was handmade.”

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins.

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt.

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter.

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt.

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making.

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness.

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?”

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior.

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin.

“What?”

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.”

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch.

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins.

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white.

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning.

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head.

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole.

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

#jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jjk x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub

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ad1thi · 3 years

Text

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P2)

this is ridiculously late and im so sorry, but here’s part 2 of this list!!

sweet lips on my lips (kiss like real people do).: @nethandrake

Frankly, if anyone told Tony that he’d be carried out of a burning building, well, he would’ve laughed in their faces. And if they were being extra mean about it, he probably would’ve even thrown them across the Atlantic.

After all, he’s Tony Stark. And Tony Stark always makes sure he has a safety net installed in his armor for emergencies, so it wouldn’t be out of commission before the building decided to collapse onto itself.

And yet, here he is, his armor out of commission, and being carried out of a burning building.

Carried out of a burning building by Steven Grant Rogers.

(In which Tony's from Civil War and Steve's from Infinity War. It's a problem.)

Rising: @withstarryeyes

Heat is licking up his sides and he groans, feeling his knees turn wobbly, and fumbles his way to the wall of the elevator. The metal is blessedly cool on his forehead and he sighs, eyes burning when he closes them. It’s still dark outside and every fiber of Tony’s being is telling him to go back to bed but he has work to do and plans to make and a blueprint open on his desk in the lab, Fury approved, and he can’t not do his job. So he musters all his strength and pushes off the wall when the elevator lands, ignoring his wet hacking as he moves.

He falls before he makes it to the bench, his top coated in sweat, and his eyes shutting to the whirling sensation that takes his breath away and leaves him panting in nauseated gasps. His hand shakes from where it’s planted on the ground, keeping him up.

the square root of infinity: @firebrands

steve and tony have their first fight. tony doesn't handle it well.

A Social Engagement: @finduilasclln

Written for the prompt: “This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Steve agrees to something without fully comprehending what it means. Modern times are confusing.

Wounds Without A Bandage: @gotthesilver

Tony burrows deeper in his blankets, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the last year. Taking control of Stark Industries was one thing, even if it had been a shock to Obie and the rest of the board when Tony came of age and started dispensing of all his dad’s old cronies, but SI’s exploration team actually finding Steve? Tony deciding Steve should come live with him? Tony has regrets.

Well.

He has regrets this morning.

Before last night, the most Tony regretted in relation to Steve was not jumping him the moment it became clear all his faculties were intact and that Tony hadn’t defrosted a brain dead Captain America.

Love Like A Hunger: @gotthesilver

Pushing the door open to the bedroom, Steve pauses at what he sees. “Tony? I—”

“Surprise?”

“I—” Steve swallows, taking in the sight of Tony, blood instantly going to his cock as he looks him up and down. “You look—wow.”

Tony’s got on a damn Princess Leia outfit, gold curling around his chest and hips, with red fabric skimming over his crotch, and Steve’s brain feels like it’s shut down.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

the james braincell: @starklysteve

“Right. How do we get them to admit they love each other?”

In front of him, Bucky brings out a metal flask and takes a swig out of it. “Hell if I know. You’re the genius who went to MIT.”

“I studied aerospace engineering,” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “not how to get two idiots to kiss.”

-------

Or, Bucky and Rhodey are the braincells.

In a desperate last ditch attempt, they set Steve and Tony up for a blind date.

Steve and Tony don't know that their date is each other. But they might have a braincell of their own. Might.

the good place (is next to you): @starklysteve

“I mean,” Tony tries his best shot at breaking the tension, “if you’re stuck with the wrong guy, at least I’m sexier than your real deal?”

Tony died and got sent to some sort of heaven, with Captain America as his soulmate. Except, they got the wrong Anthony Stark, and to stay in the Good Place, Tony must convince Steve to teach him how to be good.

-x-

(watching The Good Place is not necessary to understand this AU, but will help)

president captain america: @livingtheobsessedlife

He’s supposed to be campaigning to be elected as president of the United States, not pining over some billionaire he met at one of his campaign events. And yet, Steve can’t seem to get genius, philanthropist (and his newest big-time donor) Tony Stark out of his head.

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

Between Two Infinities: @/anonymous

The Titanic, 1946. Steven Grant Rogers did not think that going to war would end up with him being three times his normal size with superstrength and agility to boot, and... rich...but hey, he wasn’t complaining. Steve also didn’t expect to fall out of love- if it was even love in the first place- with the woman he was explicitly told to propose to, and instead fall for a formerly rich, formerly a playboy, still a genius, Tony Stark. Especially because, you know, it was a little tiny bit illegal, and he was supposed to be “America’s Golden Boy”, as Bucky put it.

All Tony expected out of the trip was to escape Europe with his best friend thanks to a lucky game of blackjack. He didn’t think he’d find himself having sex in the back of a car located in the cargo hold of the Titanic, or almost jumping off said ship. But that was just the life of a rogue Stark child, wasn’t it? At least Peggy was nice. Her dad, not so much.

A Thief Like Tony Stark: @dontholdthiswarinside

Tony is a high ranking criminal, known for his talent to disappear. Steve is a disillusioned soldier who needs some cash.

And some people will always be heroes, no matter what they do for a living.

The Things We Can’t Unsee: @/orphan-account

The mission was simple: get in, gather information, get out. Of course, Steve never really expected the enemy to follow this plan. One way or the other, something was bound to happen. They were the Avengers, after all. Nothing ever went easy for them.

What Steve didn’t expect was it going as far as it did; he didn’t expect having to make a decision that nobody should have to make.

Now Bucky’s lying there, bloody and dying all because of him, and Natasha’s poisonous words keep ringing in his head. Thinking about the ring he carries with him every day, Steve knows she’s right.

He’d never be able to make that call if it were Tony.

The Last Barman Poet: @nativemossy

Tony wasn't expecting anything more than dealing with a tequila-drunk Clint and a slightly wrinkled suit on this trip to Mexico. He got plenty more than he bargained for when he catches the eye of a handsome vacationer at the swim-up bar. Tipsy shenanigans ensue.

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #underrated stevetony fics

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johnconstantinesdick · 3 years

Text

Okay *cracks knuckles, accidentally dislocates fingers* @agentscamander-romanoff and @steel-phoenix took the bait and enabled me by asking me to elaborate on my Children of the Watch origins theory. Which means I am about to go ABSOLUTELY feral.

Apologies to anyone for having incorrect Star Wars lore, I’ve barely consumed canon content and I don’t intend to start now. Also sorry if anyone has already said this! I’ve never seen this particular theory/interpretation and it’s made me go a bit insane.

Warnings: discussion of child abuse, cults, and the aftermath of genocide. I don’t go super in depth on any of it but it’s there. Also, I typed this in the notes app of my phone and autocorrect hasn’t quite submitted to some of these names.

SO. I’m going to break this up into sections. 1. Exploring canon 2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string 3. What does this MEAN??? 4. Complaining about Bo-Katan.

First off, though, here’s my thesis: Children of the Watch is a “splinter group” made up of the children that Death Watch stole, indoctrinated, and abused. They’re also not a cult (Death Watch is though lmao).

1. Exploring Canon:

Okay, so. Canonically, Death Watch has abducted, tortured, and brainwashed children. Arla Fett is an example of that, having been abducted at the age of 14 after her parents were killed and she was subsequently brainwashed into becoming an assassin for Death Watch. She didn’t even hesitate when she found out her brother was alive! That’s how strong the conditioning was! She was so fucked up from it that she spent YEARS in a mental facility, and she outright begged a Jedi to wipe her memories in exchange for a favor. DEATH WATCH DID THAT. And you CANNOT tell me she was the only one they’ve done this to. PLENTY of fic writers have extrapolated off of this and mentioned it, but it’s important to me that everyone know this shit is absolutely rooted in canon.

Another Death Watch Child Abuse Fun Fact: Dred Priest and Isabet Reau, two of the trainers of the clones, canonically had Death Watch leanings and tried to instill Death Watch beliefs in the clones by FORCING THEM TO FIGHT EACH OTHER IN SECRET BATTLE CIRCLES THAT ENDED UP KILLING SOME OF THE CLONES. THEY WERE CHILDREN AT THE TIME, IF IT WASN’T CLEAR. WHAT THE FUCK. If THAT’S not an example of Death Watch abusing the kids under their care then I don’t know what is. It’s suuper not a stretch for me to think that this wasn’t an unheard of thing in more official Death Watch circles.

Also canonically, Bo-Katan has referred to Din’s covert as “Children of the Watch”, and Din, despite obviously being an important and respected member of his community, doesn’t recognize the name, which implies to me that it’s not a name the covert chose for themselves. Rather, a moniker that was given to them after they splintered off of Death Watch. Since this isn’t an opinion and it’s more just… information, I’ll trust Bo-Katan on this one.

We also know for sure that Din’s covert IS connected to Death Watch in some way, seeing as the flashback sequence very clearly shows Mandalorians in blue and gray beskar’gam, the colors of Death Watch. HOWEVER… the Armorer, who seems to hold a high position of authority in the covert, wears gold and copper beskar’gam. Din wears unpainted (v2) or mismatched colored (v1) beskar’gam (I do grant that his paint color counts less towards this because he’s pretty much one of the only people interacting with the outside world and so colors associated with Death Watch are probably a no go no matter what). Paz Vizsla’s armor is a very dark blue with yellow and cyan details and, oh my fucking god I didn’t even know this but he has a fucking MYTHOSAUR SYMBOL ON ONE OF HIS PAULDRONS. THE FUCK???? THAT’S LITERALLY THE SYMBOL OF THE TRUE MANDALORIANS IM. Ok. Okay. I needed a minute. Like I KNOW that the mythosaur skull is Mandalorian symbol in general but I think it just hits different when a Vizsla is wearing it, you know? Especially because the placement is the same as Jaster Mereel’s???? Literal founder of the True Mandalorian movement????? Excuse me???????

Let’s uh. Let’s get back to armor. I can address that… later. So. Anyway. Armor is super important, and it’s uhhh very telling that the covert doesn’t emulate the Death Watch colorscheme strictly. Like, yeah, there’s gray and light blue in there, if you go through some wiki pages, but they’re not the only colors they use, and the Armorer doesn’t even have either of those colors! And she’s the biggest authority we’ve seen! Very fucking interesting!! Bo-Katan still has her armor painted in Death Watch colors! And yet she’s derisive of Din’s covert! Verrry interesting!

We also know that Din’s covert emphasizes children VERY much, more than Death Watch ever would have, imo. It’s expected for the adult members to provide for the foundlings (and it’s VERY interesting that the kids are seemingly all referred to as foundlings iirc. More on that later.), and even though Paz disagrees with Din working with the empire, he and the other members of the covert immediately and with no hesitation come to Din’s aid for this child that Din hasn’t even claimed as his own—it’s amazing! And I will note that Bo-Katan and her warriors do the same upon their initial meeting with Din—Koska dives into danger with no hesitation as soon as Din says the child is still in danger. We see that this solidarity does come at a price for Bo-Katan, though, while the Armorer sees protecting a foundling as a duty that is completely worth all the trouble it brought.

Fascinating also that Boba was 100% on board to help out Din to save Grogu past what Din or anyone else would have expected of him, while Bo-Katan had to be bribed into coming by the promise of Moff Gideon and the darksaber. And she thinks she’s somehow more Mandalorian than him.

And NOW, going way back in time to the beginnings of the True Mandalorian movement, we know that Jaster Mereel originally authored his Supercommando Codex by looking back through history to the Canons of Honor and the Resol’nare, and he took those ideals and ideas and he modernized them to create a set of moral guidelines to follow. And people loved that shit! Death Watch had to infiltrate the True Mandalorians and then trick the Jedi into slaughtering them just to get rid of them, because Jaster’s charisma and his sexy sexy morals were too strong. (God. I fucking LOVE Jaster Mereel if you couldn’t tell.) Anyway, there’s precedent for Mandalorians looking back to their history to bring forth old ideas, repurposed to a modern context. We also know that, canonically, Din’s covert follow the “old ways” of not sharing names and of never taking their helmets off in front of others.

Moving on.

2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string:

So if we extrapolate from the fact that Death Watch are, uh, super fucking abusive towards the kids that they stole/their own kids, then we’re left with… this group of kids, who have been mistreated and indoctrinated for a LONG TIME, and possibly don’t have that great an understanding of non-toxic Mandalorian culture. And if they’ve been abducted or rescued, whatever, they might not fit back in with the places they were taken from, or they may not have a place to go back to, or they may not even remember where they’re from originally. It’s some prime angst material! Good stuff.

And if we pull the implication from the names that “Children of the Watch” is a splinter group off of Death Watch, it really does make you think… huh, you know what? These two things may be one in the same. Maybe.

And, like, we know that Jaster Mereel and Din’s covert both looked to Mandalorian history to find pillars for their community’s morals. Jaster did so in the middle of a lot of political turmoil, as a way to say “Hey, we can still be Mandalorians in the ways that matter, but being Mandalorian doesn’t mean being a morally bankrupt conqueror. We can have honor and still wear armor and fight and uphold the Resol’nare.”

And I think Din’s covert did so when they were struggling with unlearning the toxic ideals that had been shoved onto them by Death Watch. I think they had to figure out their own way of being Mandalorian or else they would have crumpled under the pressure. And so they looked back to the old ways and picked out the more extreme interpretation of Cin Vhetin (clean slate) which says that, once you swear the Resol’nare and become a Mandalorian, your past doesn’t matter, it’s what you do now that does. You don’t take off your helmet, and you don’t let others know your name, because those things don’t matter to who you are and what you do. (There’s also the issue of the helmet and name rule being an important defense tactic to protect the covert, seeing as how Mandalorians post-Empire are the survivors of genocide. There’s already a fantastic post on it here)

Related, another Mandalorian saying is “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.”, meaning “Nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you’ll be,” which IMO fits in very nicely with how I’m interpreting Din’s covert. It’s all about your actions and future mattering more than your past. I think that when the covert was splitting off and being built, this would be a huge component of them healing. Because the way they were treated and indoctrinated by Death Watch doesn’t have to affect their future actions. They don’t have to perpetuate the cycle of abuse, they can build a covert and a community around caring for foundlings.

Now, onto the foundlings! I find it very interesting that, whenever the covert’s younglings are mentioned, it’s always as foundlings. I think this implies that there’s a focus on saving and raising children more than there is on sharing blood with them, and I think that the covert would be more inclined towards communal raising than typical family units, if only to keep everyone in check and to protect the children from ever being treated as they were. I also find it VERY interesting that there’s a lot of emphasis put on returning children to their own kind. I don’t think Death Watch would have employed that practice, and I think that’s another example of the covert wanting to make their community a better place for children. I think it’s likely a lot of them didn’t get that choice, and they had to leave their cultures and people behind. And so they want to give that choice to their children.

I think it’s also amazing that, like. They keep finding and raising children instead of deciding they’re too damaged or whatever to have kids. Because it doesn’t matter if they have baggage or trauma when a child needs them. That’s FANTASTIC. I’m losing my MIND. It really doesn’t matter who their parents were to them, just the kind of parents they will be. It’s all about breaking that cycle and deciding to be better and I LOVE THAT.

3. What does this MEAN???:

Well. What this means is that Din’s covert has a very clear set of motivations and structure when it comes to how their covert is run. It’s not a cult; in fact it is specifically a group created by cult survivors who are determined to not do to others what was done to them. The rules may seem weird and strict at first glance, but they have a clear purpose and rationale, and no one is trying to amass power. They’re just… trying to do better, and be better.

(This also means that I’m 99% sure that, with the assistance of time travel, at least half of the covert would be SUPER INTO Jaster Mereel. I like to imagine that Paz had, like, a poster of him on his little sewer bedroom wall. I fully believe he painted that mythosaur skull on his pauldron in honor of a good man who was killed by Paz’s own relatives for standing by his morals and daring to try to reform and rally Mandalorians. I also think it would be funny if, like, Din doesn’t know shit about ANYTHING to do with modern history, but Boba mentions that his grandfather is Jaster Mereel and Din is like “OH I KNOW THAT GUY! Yeah he’s cool, he’s the historical crush of like, my entire covert.” And Boba is like. What.)

It also means that it can be up in the air about whether Din was found by Death Watch before his covert splintered off, or if his covert was still just wearing Death Watch colors when he was found. Fun thing to play around with, but right now I don’t want a solid timeline.

Hmm just thought I should add: while the Armorer does seem to have a position of authority, I don’t think the covert can be structured politically with clans and houses like other Mandalorian groups. Like, clan just means family in this context, and is less a part of hierarchy, and I don’t think they would even recognize houses within the covert? Like they MIGHT decide to call themselves part of House Djarin now that Din is Mand’alor, but before that they weren’t like. House Vizsla with Paz as the leader just because they used to be Death Watch. I don’t vibe with that. This isn’t really super relevant, I just wanted to add it.

4. Complaining about Bo-Katan:

Anyway Bo-Katan is absolutely full of shit and it’s doubly disgusting that she’s standing there in Death Watch armor, seemingly still allied to this fucking cult of imperialism and conquest, and she accuses Din of being in a regressive cult, and she implies that the way he engages with the Resol’nare is wrong and like. Repressed or something. God I hate Bo-Katan. But I love to hate her. She’s horrible but I want her to be included in the list of Din’s friends but not the list of people he’d trust his kid with. I have contradictory Bo-Katan feelings, whatever. The most important thing is that all of her opinions are horrible, like, all the time. And we shouldn’t trust her when she says Din’s part of a cult. Literally why does anyone take that at face value. If we’re taking her word as the authority on Mandalorian issues then I guess Boba and Jango aren’t Mandalorian!!! Seriously.

TLDR; Din’s covert (aka “Children of the Watch”) is made up of survivors of childhood abuse, torture, and brainwashing at the hands of Death Watch, and they’re dedicated to making sure their children don’t go through the same thing. They’re not a cult, but Death Watch sure was! Jaster Mereel is the love of my very aromantic life and Bo-Katan’s opinions can’t be trusted. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

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kitazura · 3 years

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it’s the thought that counts, tendō satori

1.6k words of fluff; gn!reader

synopsis: tendō doesn’t understand the excitement surrounding valentine’s day until he decides to celebrate it with you.

notes: i haven’t finished the manga but i’m making timeskip content :D thank u rissie (@sugas-cookie) for beta-ing mwah <3

Tendō’s come to learn that Valentine’s day brings waves of purchases made by eager youth preparing to confess their affections, frantic lovers who’d completely forgotten about the occasion, and other last-minute shoppers looking for gifts to give their loved ones. This year is no different; the orders pile up so quickly he can barely keep up with them.

He’s not complaining—not when his bills are getting paid—he just doesn’t understand why everyone lets themselves get carried away by the Valentine rush. At the root of it all, it’s blatant commercialism, another scheme by society to run your bank account dry through obligatory benevolence, so why play into it? Well, as long as it keeps him in business, he supposes he’ll keep his critiques to himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little cynical?” you say when he shares his thoughts, the gentle smile on your lips showing you mean no harm. “I think the idea behind Valentine’s day is charming.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, humming in response. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it sweet when someone puts time and effort into something just for you?” you gush. Tendō watches your gaze turn dreamy as your mind wanders off into the clouds. “Like making chocolates for the person you like.”

“That’s what I do for a living, darling.”

“You like all of your customers?”

“Of course; they give me money, after all.”

You laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “I guess it’s hard to romanticize something you do as work.”

You’re not wrong. At some point, it’s expected for your job to lose its magic, no matter how passionate you are about it in the beginning. Chocolate has long lost its allure to Tendō, and now he spends day in and day out pouring it into molds and hurrying to shape it before it hardens beyond salvation. It’s become a chore for him, and even just catching a whiff of a candy bar sends his brain into the stress of work mode.

“What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“What an odd question,” he remarks, clicking his tongue like a fussy mother hen. “I think about what I have to do to make it look presentable, of course. And then I count down the minutes until I come home to you.” He beams, proud of his response.

But pride turns to dismay when he catches a glint of disappointment in your eyes. His expression falls as he pulls you closer. “What’s the matter?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Would you ever make me Valentine’s day chocolates?”

He tilts his head in surprise, then kisses your forehead. “I’d make you chocolate any day; all you have to do is ask.”

You seem to drop the matter, although he swears you sigh, “It’s not the same.”

He spends the next couple of days convincing himself he’d only imagined it, but something about your tone and attitude makes it stick in his brain. Whether you’d said it or not, there was clearly something behind your first question.

He asks you about it over dinner: “Is there a reason you want Valentine-themed chocolates in particular?”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You laugh a little, surprised. “It’s not the Valentine theme I want; just the knowledge that you’re thinking of me on that day.”

He pesters you to elaborate—he’s always thinking of you, don’t you know that?—but you dodge his questions, leaving him in the dark once more.

Since you won’t give him any answers, he’ll just look for them on his own.

He texts Ushijima that night: “Why do you buy chocolate for the one you love?”

“Because they like it,” comes the reply. It’s simple, straightforward, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

He texts Semi the same question. The response is the length of a school essay, explaining the motivations of love in depths only a poet could reach, but it’s still not enough.

At work, your question echoes in his mind: What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?

What was he supposed to think about aside from the process? His customers?

He looks again at the order he’s making. It’s one he expects every year—it comes a week before Valentine’s, by a man whose wife adores chocolate covered strawberries. Tendō remembers it not only because of its consistency, but also because it’s always preceded by an order by the aforementioned wife, who asks for milk chocolate filled with raspberry créme that her husband is so fond of.

He wonders why they order the same thing at the same time every year. There’s no surprise in it, so what’s the point? Had he been in the husband’s place and you in the wife’s, he’d make sure to buy you something different every year, each present more extravagant than the last. He’d make sure that you’d always have something to look forward to in your married life.

A cheery little tune takes form beneath his breath as he pictures a life with you: silver bands around your fingers, lazy mornings on your days off, walks along the Seine.

He sweeps the excess chocolate off the molds in one clean stroke, sighing dreamily. You would buy a bigger, better apartment once you’d saved up enough, or even move to a quiet little cottage in the countryside.

His thoughts wander through the clouds as he mindlessly flits from one project to the next, forgetting to count the hours until his duty for today is through.

Lately, some of Tendō’s usual customers have been dropping by to say the same thing: there’s something different about his work these days. It’s not negative; on the contrary, actually, the quality’s spiked. But he can’t figure out what he’s been doing differently for the life of him.

It weighs on his mind from the time he clocks in to when he clocks out. He’s been using the same ingredients, the same equipment, so what was it?

His answer arrives in the form of the Chocolate Strawberry man, on the very eve of Valentine’s.

The man enthusiastically shakes Satori’s hand and thanks Him for his work, his hands warm and clammy from excitement despite the biting Parisian air.

“My wife would have liked to come along as well, but she’s preoccupied with the baby,” the man explains. “She wants you to know how much she enjoys your work, though. We look forward to it every year.”

“Then why not buy it off-season, when it’s cheaper?” Tendō asks. The man looks surprised, prompting him to continue. “With all due respect, you order the same thing every year, anyway, so why wait?”

The man laughs at the sincere look of curiosity in the chocolatier’s eyes, patting him on the shoulder, like a father to his son. “Why wait until birthdays to buy a cake? Why wait until Christmas to exchange gifts and set up the tree? It’s old advice, but it’s good: it’s always the thought that counts.” With one last pat on the back and an affectionate chuckle, the man wishes Tendō a good night—“Enjoy tomorrow with your loved ones.”

The stores are packed with the usual extremely last minute rush on Valentine’s morning, and for the first time, Tendō Satori is part of that crowd.

His arms are filled with the goodies he’d woken up early to buy: heavily discounted candies in tacky packages, a cheesy card, a bouquet, an offensively pink stuffed bear, crumpled foil balloons. (He’d made chocolates for you too; those were waiting in the fridge at home.) If it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you wanted, he decided, then it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you’d get.

He’d sent you out to pick up a cake across the city just before he’d left that morning, so the apartment is still empty when he returns. He checks his watch—only half an hour at most until you’d come back. Setting the bear on the counter, he gives it a determined grin.

“Think I can set everything up in fifteen?”

He’s just barely managed tying the balloons closed when he hears the knob on the front door jiggle as you unlock it.

“I’m home!” Your shoes thud to the floor, joined by Tendō’s footsteps as he hurries to help you with the cake. You thank him when he takes it out of your hands and leads you to the dining table while you chatter away. “Boy, did you see how many people are out there? It’s like all of Paris decided to run their errands this morning. It’s a miracle I got the cake here in one piece—what’s all this?”

Tendō grins, proudly motioning to his handiwork. The bouquet sits in the center of the table, surrounded by neatly arranged dishes of your favorite foods. The plush bear sits at the head, the card and candies tucked into its paws. Balloons reading “Happy Valentine’s” are tied to your chairs, gently swaying to and fro in greeting.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I figured you wanted to do something for Valentine’s, but all the restaurants are booked so I had to improvise—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and another, then another. “I love it! I love you and I love”—you wave at the room—“all of this.” Another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for thinking of me, Satori.”

He laughs as you hug him, squeezing as tight as you can. He thinks back to the strawberry man’s remark, “It’s the thought that counts.” And maybe, just a little, he’s starting to understand that there’s more to Valentine’s than business.

As you prepare the cake and gush over the bear, he pats the pocket of his jacket. The pretty little velvet box would have to wait until after lunch.

postscript: heyyy <3 i stopped writing for like three months srry LMAO but im back in business baby !! if i try hard enough and school stops kicking my ass maybe i’ll start posting twice a month ahaha ... unless?

#haikyuu fluff #tendou fluff #hq fluff #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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saerran-choi · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Than Ice Cream

Hi guys! Yes I am alive

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Saeran x Reader

Summary: What happens when Saeyoung gets involved in Saerans love life in an ice cream parlor?

——-

It was the girl at the ice cream parlor who made him change. It was the girl at the ice cream parlor who made him realize he truly was worthy of love. It was the girl at the ice cream parlor with whom he fell in love.

It was always such a hassle to get Saeran out of the house. After his escape from Mint Eye, and his long recovery, the lighter haired twin still never wanted to leave the safety of the bunker, much to his brothers dismay.

He had began to grow his hair out from the white, the tips of his hair were pink, and the roots were coming in at a bright red. They were only about an inch grown out, but as his brother would put it, it was a great start. Even if he acted as if he hated the change, sometimes in the morning, Saeyoung would pass by his brother in the bathroom, trying to tame his bedhead, but every time when his brothers eyes would catch onto the reflection of the red roots growing, he could catch the glimpse of a smile on the edge of his brothers lips, before hes angrily shouting and closing the door in Saeyoung’s face, and the only thing he can think to do is laugh as his brother yells at him for peeking.

It was these memories that Saeran always complained about, how his brother was so annoying, but it was these memories that he truly held onto. They were the memories that played when he couldn’t sleep due to memories of Mint Eye, he would think about how his idiot brother blew up the microwave the day before by accidentally putting the entire bag of chips in the microwave. And every time, he can fall asleep safe, and sometimes he can even fall asleep with a smile on his face.

To get him out of the house, Saeyoung bribes him with ice cream. The promise of that sweet treat almost always got his brother out bed and out the door and through the day out with his brother.

The cling of the bell at the door is the first thing that makes her look up from wiping down the counters of the small ice cream parlor. It was empty, besides from her, which wasn’t strange, due to the fact that it was in the middle of December and there were threats of snowfall. But the could weather couldn't deter Saeran from the idea of such a sweet treat.

Saeran had always hated the cold. The memories of Mint Eye and the nights in the dungeon on the cold stone floors were always brought up in his mind during the cold weather. He despised it. But in that very moment he could have thanked any god who was out there for the cold weather. He could use that as a self excuse as to why when he made eye contact with the girl behind the counter, his cheeks had dusted into a rosy pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. He should have been freezing cold, but the only thing he felt was that fiery blush he got when he made eye contact.

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When she had gone to work that day, she hadn’t expected it to go this way. It was an average day. Get up, get ready, eat breakfast, or lunch, depending on the day, and head to work. It was a lifestyle. Get up, go to work, go home, sleep. It was a normal cycle for a normal person, and she didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much that could be done.

The store was slow today, which should have been more obvious. It was mid december, and no one wanted ice cream in the cold weather. She had finished helping one of the regulars, and had just started cleaning the counters when they walked in. Friends? No. They were too similar to each other. Brothers? More than likely. She puts on her customer service smile, and goes to greet them both,

“Welcome in! Whenever you’re ready just let me know and I’ll be happy to help”. She smiles, unable to keep her eyes from gazing over towards the lighter haired man, and the light blush that dots her cheeks.

Why can’t I bring myself to look away?

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Saeyoung grins as he notices his brother's complexion and the strong gaze between him and the girl behind the counter, knowing full well it wasn’t because of the cold weather, but because of the girl behind the counter. The grin remains on his face as he begins to form a plan in his mind.

“Saeran, you want the same mint one right? Why don’t you find a table and I’ll order” Saeyoung grins, and he watches his brother go to argue, before just sighing and nodding, shuffling off to go find a table, and much to his brothers surprise, he chooses a seat near the front, and a perfect view of the counter.

Saeyoung makes his way to the front counter, to which the girl greets him again and he places his order, his eyes never leaving her form as she works to complete it, and he couldn’t help but notice how her eyesight seemed to glance off towards the location of his brother, and how his brothers glance always seemed to be focused on the front counter, and not on the phone in his hands.

She hands him the cups with the frozen treat in them with a soft smile, going to turn to finish completing her task before the redhead speaks up again.

“Uh, excuse me?” he asks, his voice having that boyish Im up to no good tone to it. Hearing it, she turns back and gives him another soft smile

“Is something wrong?” to which he shakes his head

“Not at all! I just couldn’t help noticing you keep looking over towards my brother-” her face flushes a vibrant pink at his words, and he grins “-and you think he’s attractive right?” he finishes, and her face flushes an even darker red if physically possible, and she felt like it was suddenly summer in the middle of December as she attempts to stutter out a response, while saeyoung laughs.

Saeran felt a slight pang of jealousy at the scene in front of him, the way his brother seemed to have a talent to talking to people, and he was jealous about that, but not in this moment. He didn’t exactly understand jealousy, especially not being jealous of his brother flirting with this girl. He wasn’t exactly a flirty or even outgoing guy, so why did he feel the need to stand and go talk to her, to make her like him more than his brother? The feeling didn’t sit right with him, but yet, that light cozy feeling he felt when he looked at her was something that he enjoyed.

Is this what-affection feels like? Disgusting. Yet- I never want to be without it again.

When his brother returns to the table, he practically swipes his cup out of his twins hand, taking a bite, and mumbling something incoherent towards his redheaded twin.

“Huh? What was that dear brother of mine? You need to speak up more if you want to be heard. I’m sure the pretty lady at the counter can’t hear you at this table. We have enough distance between us.” Saeyoung girns as he stares at his brothers pouting stance.

“H-How did you talk to her so easily?” Saeran’s eventually able to mumble out, attempting to hide his face from his brother, not because he was embarrassed, but because he didn't want to see his brothers smirk, nor be teased about it.

“I just did” he grins “I can’t talk you through it Saeran, you just gotta do it yourself. But believe me, she’s had her eyes on you since you entered the building. Go ask for her number, and I’m sure she’d give it to you. Or you can just give her yours.”

“I-I cant just ask that-”

“Sure you can! Guys do it all the time!”

“But-”

“Oops-” Saeyoung can’t stop the grin on his face when he pushes his brother's cup over and his ice cream splatters onto the floor. He had full intentions to clean it up, he just needed to give his brother a push to talk to her. “Awe you hardly ate any of it. Here, go buy a new one while I clean this!”

Saeran grumbles but stands anyway to make his way back to the counter to replace his spilled ice cream with a small sigh.

Just ask for her number? Is it really just that simple?

“What can I do for you?” She gives a soft smile, and he can feel the blush return to his cheeks.

She’s a lot prettier up close.

“Y-Yeah- I need two scoops of- uh- mint?” he asks, insteads of states and she nods “Of course, was there- anything else?” she asks

It’s now or never.

“Uh- yeah. Actually- there is one more thing-” he says quietly, and she looks up as she hands him his scoops. It the time it took to ask that, she had the opportunity to finish his order.

“Hm? What is it?”

“I-uh- can I get your phone number?” he’s eventually able to stutter out, and as her cheeks flush pink, she gives a small nod, reaching over to grab ahold of a pen and a stray napkin, writing down the ten digits for her number, and handing it to him with a soft smile.

“You will call right?” she asks as she hands it to him, and he nods his head, as if eager.

“I-I will” he states, and she gives a nod of her head.

“I’m (Y/N)”

“I’m Saeran” he responds,

“Well Saeran, I will be seeing you later” she smiles, as another couple makes their way into the shop, and saeyoung wraps his arm across his brothers shoulders, leading him out of the ice cream parlor with a grin on his face. Saeran wasn’t even focused on his brother leading him from the shop, rather he was focused on the napkin he held tightly in front of him as he read the message over and over, as if unable to believe it.

Call me anytime (: (xxx) xxx-xxx -(Y/N) <3

The message itself was simplistic but it was the fact that it was written for him, and no one else, that he was the one that caught her attention, and not his loud, outgoing older brother made him even more excited.

I can’t wait to call her.

#saeran choi #saeran #msyme #mystic messenger #msyme imagine #mystic messenger imagine #saeran imagine #saeran x reader #saeyoung #saeran ae #saeran route #msyme hc #mysme story #msyme x reader #mystic messenger x reader

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simpsiren · 3 years

Text

nakamoto yuta x reader

description. One day, out of pure boredom or perhaps without even thinking, I decided to airdrop memes to random iphone users in the bus. How dumb was I to think that I wouldn’t get caught.

genre. urm internet au(?) i really don’t know what genre to call this tbh

word count. 1.3k~

warnings. none!

a/n. literally got this idea while i was actually doing it with a friend LMAO i srs thought my experience was funny and wanted to write to so here i am! hope you’ll enjoyy

“I’m seriously drained.”

Lucas and I were walking from the gates to the bus stop. Taking the shorter route, we dragged our weak bodies up a hill to get to the traffic light where the bus stop was opposite the road.

“Chemistry did it for me.” I muttered. I noticed how both our bodies were slouching so I decided to bring my body up straight for a quick moment to stretch out my back. “The amount of homework Mdm Lim gave us I swear.”

We finally reached the bus stop. You could say that using the shorter route served us no good since we missed the bus and had to wait for more than ten minutes for the next one to arrive.

We tapped in. The bus was a double decker so we decided to climb the stairs to the upper deck. Lucas was the first to climb up and went for the seats at the very front. “Why did you have to pick the space where the most amount of sunlight is hitting us? I’m burning here.” I complained.

I wasn’t feeling hot, it’s just the huge amount of sunlight coming through the glass that made me had to close my eyes in shock and turn my head where Lucas was sitting behind me.

“Well jeez sorry.” Lucas frowned, rolling his eyes. I shrugged and turned my whole body sideways so I wouldn’t have to face the sunlight that much, proceeding to unlock my phone and go to my gallery where I started looking through the videos that Lucas and I took in school. Specifically, during class when it was our free period and we had nothing better to do than to record ourselves doing nonsensical things.

I played the video and tried to suppress my laughter while watching, Lucas doing the same as he watched from behind. “Send me that video.” Lucas urged me, tapping my shoulder. I giggled and nodded my head. I tried sending the video but it failed due to the file being too big. I groaned, thinking how I wasted three minutes of waiting just to not get it sent.

“I thought you’d airdrop it to me. It’s quicker you know.” Lucas deadpans. I glared at him, not wanting to admit that it was indeed a better idea than what I did. “Okay, okay. Hold on.” I let out a ‘tsk’ and proceeded to airdrop. When I was about to click his iPhone’s name, I realised that other people’s bluetooth were on as well, meaning that I could airdrop to them.

I immediately turned to Lucas, who backed his head at my sudden action. “What?” He looked at me curiously.

“What if I airdrop something to strangers?” A smirk slowly creeped up my lips out of instinct. Lucas gave me a blank expression, but ended up copying mine a little while after. “Let’s try.” Lucas whispered. The two of us chuckled and in unison, we began finding for memes or random pictures to airdrop to strangers.

I found a meme that I just saved from Twitter and started to click on every name I saw that I could airdrop to. One of them was named ‘daddyyoongi’ which I found weird, but not shocked at all. It took awhile for them to respond, the word ‘waiting’ constantly flickering below their names.

I peeked at Lucas’s phone, who was still scrolling through his gallery to find something to send. “Did anyone respond?” Lucas looked up at me when he realised my eyes were on his phone. Downshifting back to my phone, my eyes widened, instantly bringing my phone close to Lucas’s face.

“They accepted.” I whispered. Lucas and I had the same expression and same thought. Are we seriously doing this right now? I read through their names since I didn’t bother to look at them when I sent. ‘yutaro; prince of osaka’

“Is he some kind of anime fan or something?” I thought to myself. Looking at the other iPhone names, I could tell that they were girls. I couldn’t really assume who yutaro was.

Seconds later, I received an airdrop from yutaro. Accepting it, I took a look at the photo. It was a meme. I couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh as the caption read, ‘Hello 911 im being attacked’

I wasted no time to find a meme to respond back. It was a spongebob meme with the caption. ‘(chuckles) I’m in danger.’ And proceeded to airdrop it to them.

“I can’t belive this.” Lucas whispered from behind. I could tell he’s seriously trying to stop himself from bursting in laughter. I’d be doing the same. The other iPhone users that I sent to didn’t reply, only accepting my airdrop. Though I was disappointed, at least I had yutaro who airdropped me a new meme in a matter of seconds. I slapped my thighs softly, covering my mouth when I accepted the airdrop.

Lucas surpressed his laughter once again. “Oh my fuck I’m such a genius.” I praised myself, breathing heavily to get myself to calm down and keep my cool so that no one in the bus would find us weird and suspect us as their secret airdroppers.

Yutaro and I airdropped memes. Some were random, while the rest were sent as if we were having a conversation. Which I found it to be personally fun. It was getting way too difficult to hide my laughter. Lucas told me he gave up trying to send since they weren’t responding and peeked at my phone.

The bus came to a halt and I realised that were at the bus interchange. I waited for the people from the upper deck to go out first, making a trying-to-not-look-weird kind of eye contact with each of them as they went down the flight of stairs. Lucas and I finally got down and tapped out. I looked through the memes that I received, finally the two of us bursting into laughter.

“You actually had a conversation with that yutaro person! I seriously can’t believe it!” Lucas shouted, shoving his hands into his pockets. I laughed, smacking his arm. “We should actually do that more often. Who knows, we might make friends.” I said, bobbing my shoulders as I bounced on the ball of my feet with each step.

Suddenly, I felt a presence coming from behind that got closer. Weirded out, I turned my head back. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes were met with a guy’s. He was leaning down to match my eye level. He had grey or ashy hair, but his roots were jet black. His face... was incredibly beautiful. His features, from his dark black eyes to his soft looking lips and clean face, not to mention is sharp jawline. I only met eye contact with him for a mere second. But his imagine was printed onto my mind.

“You do that often?” He suddenly whispered, soft enough that he had to lean in as he let out a chuckle and speed walked forward, passing Lucas and I. I got to shocked that it made me stop walking. I was in a trance. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his back, his hair that bounced in the wind that made me think it was light and fluffy.

“Why’d you stop?” Lucas was a few steps in front of me when he realised I was behind and went back to me. My mouth gaped opened slightly. I flinched when my phone dinged. Lifting my phone up to my face, I noticed that it was a notification that yutaro wanted to airdrop me something. Accepting, it took me to my gallery where the picture sent was shown.

“Nakamoto Yuta?” Lucas said it out loud for me before I could even read. It showed his twitter account with the caption ‘constantly flying between Japan and Korea’ with the aeroplane emoji beside it. I looked up, despite knowing that his figure already exited from my view.

I looked at the screemshot of his account. I noticed that the latest tweet he posted, which was just a minute ago stated, ‘text me ;D’

Lucas gasped at this. “You got caught.”

if you’re wondering what some of the memes were 👀

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saltynsassy31 · 3 years

Note

Well I've really been enjoying your fics and I got a prompt for you. Imagine this: post-phone spamton and swatch invited to a fancy party. :D

Omg it makes me so happy to hear you've been enjoying my work 🥺🥺💞

But that is a lovely idea!

Here ya go!

This happens right after spamton started to work under Swatch (maybe a month or so) so before he met up with the addisons (from what I've written so far of my now little au fkdfkig)

Spamton looked at himself through the mirror

He hasn't looked this nice in a long time. Yeah working for Swatchon you need to look nice but this was different

He was wearing a black vest with a white sweater underneath, there was a blue circle like the pink one on Swatch's vest on the left side of his and he was wearing a yellow bowtie

He was wearing white pants with two stripes in the right side of the pants, one was pink and the other orange

He worse his usual pink and yellow glasses and his hair was combed back, it was the smoothest and neatest it's ever been

Though he couldn't help but cringe a bit at the white roots now very much visible, but Swatch said it looked nice so he hadn't bothered to redye it, not like he had time either

"Are you done in there? Whe need to leave in 10 minutes" he heard Swatch yell out from the other side of the door

Right, yeah, they were going to a party. Not any party though, it was THE party of the year, where every well known and respected people go to

The Queen's birthday

And Swatch has been invited to attend, not as a server, but as a guest and they could bring a plus one with them and Swatch had chosen Spamton to bring as a plus one

He wasn't sure why but he didn't complain, he would get to hang out with all the big shots of town so why was he so scared?

"I AM ALMOST READY [[Twitter]]" he said his loud voice hiding any insecurities he had but Swatch still managed to somehow notice

"Can I come in?" They said in a softer much gentler voice, so much so that Spamton couldn't say no

Swatch entered the bathroom and slowly approached Spamton placing a hand over his shoulder

"What's bothering you. Are you worried tonight's dinner party" he asked

"WHY OF COURSE NOT! WHAT A [[silly question]] WHY WOULD I BE WORRIED OF A [[party]] FULL OF [[snobby people]] EAHEAHEAHEAH"

Swatch lifted a brow at him wich just recieaved a scoff from Spamton

"OF COURSE IM WORRIED I WAS A [[dirty little worm]] FOR YEARS MY [[down fall from grace]] WAS IN THE [[HIT NEWS]]" He said looking down from the mirror and into the sink and the sad expression on his face broke Swatch's heart

"Oh I guess I didn't think about that, my apologies but-" he pinched Spamton's chin to make him look at them wich made him blush a big "-you've come a long way from that time and I don't know if you noticed but you've made everyone in the palace adore you"

Swatch blushed a bit as well looking to the side "even me" he looked back at Spamton "and the Queen has been exceptionally happy with your work, you worked very hard for your title and you deserve to be there as much as everyone else"

Spamton smiled his face redder then a tomato "AW SHUCKS YOU MAKE [[a little man]] FLATTERED"

Swatch chuckled "I try" he said with a wink "now come on, we don't want to be lafe"

"WELL IVE HEARD THAT THE LATER YOU ARE THE MORE [[Grand!]] YOU ENTRANCE WILL BE"

"Well we are 15 minutes late already so" Both laughed, Spamton jumped down from the stool and walked out the bathroom hand in hand with Swatch

Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad

End notes

Funfact, this is the night they started dating

I was going to write it but it would be to long so eh

I hope you enjoyed it though

Again I'm so happy to hear you've been enjoying my work it means alot ^^

Asks are still open so feel free to drop more requests if you have any ^^

#swatchon deltarune #swatchon #swatch x spamton #swatch deltarune #swatch #spamton #spamton deltarune #spamton g. spamton #deltarune chapter2 #deltarune #ask box open #ask box #fic request open #fic request

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gringolet · 3 years

Note

that italian?

okay okay okay i think it happened long enough ago that i can dish about the drama. she changed her url and im not including it anyway so its fine.

prepare for a fuckin. essay in responss to a TWO WORD ask but anyay

so once upon time there was an italian who hated children and loved reylo. she also hung out in the arthuriana tag and got a bunch of asks about it. so one day some poor anon comes in and asks if she has any trans headcanons for arthurian characters, and she, instead of being a normal person and saying like, no, she goes off about how trans characters in fanfic is forced representation and she cant talk about trans people bc surgery is triggering for her.

found this in the archives lol. so i rbd politely explaining that while it was fine to not have trans hcs, her justifications for it were a little offensive.

hey i dont want to start discourse or anything but i see ur asks in the tag a lot and i wanted to politely address this. firstly obviously no one is under any obligation to hc things, and headcanons and fandom is not activism. if you’d just said “no, not really” it would b fine. i mean, cringe of u, but fine. but u make a couple of points here i want to look at a bit critically. then there is “I don’t like when headcanons are pushed up as ~representation, especially when… Ehm, it’s just fandom stuff?” i dont want to misinterpret you or put words in your mouth, but the implication that theres no need for trans rep in fandom and dismissal of that is a very cis take. My initial read of your intention there was a complaint of ‘why should something like fandom spaces, which are for fun and not serious, be filled with non fun serious (bad) trans stuff that i have to see when im trying to enjoy myself.’ now that could be incorrect, you were a bit vague here. if that is what you meant, i think you maybe should examine why you feel that way. if it isnt, im unclear on what exactly youre trying to say here. the idea that trans hcs are performative wokeness and “representation” in fandom is completely ignoring the actual trans people making and wanting them. there is so vanishingly little representation of trans people in actual media and even less thats good, and i think implying trans hcs are being pushed on people and fandom for, ~representation (a world of meaning in the ~ i shant speculate on) is very dismissive and ignorant of that fact. honestly the main thing im troubled by is the idea that trans bodies are inherently disgusting and triggering, which is an incredibly harmful and hurtful idea, and since you yourself acknowledge that trans people and hcs dont predicate surgery i question why you bring it up, except as a justification for disconfort rooted in unexamined prejudice. im not accusing you of being a terf or anything, i dont believe you meant harm by this or have bad intentions, and im definitely not saying anyone has to hc anything. it was the uncomfronted insidiousness of your justification that concerned me. this is not a personal attack at all, you just have a lot of influence in this fandom space and i wanted to make you aware of some of the surely accidentally harmful things ur saying.

so she flips out and rbs that yelling at me and cursing me out in italian (she moved blogs so i dont have her whole response just bits)

basically she completely derailed the original topic and accused me of calling her a horrible person for her triggers? which i never did and would never do, and then tried to make it a wierd anti v proshipper thing

third: I never said there’s no need of trans hcs in fandoms, BUT I’ve noticed that there’s a tendency of condemning people on the basis of what they ship / the dynamics they write. ( like the infinite discourse about how ‘I ship only mlm enemies to lovers because f/m enemies to lovers are Inherently Bad and Abusive - something I personally heard on Twitter sigh ), so I feel the need to say it. blame the current fandom climate.

and were like wow, this lady is unhinged, so we look around her blog and find a. a lot of stuff like saying its racist to not like incest?? and that italians arent white?? also shes a swerf?? and kind of deniel italian colonialsm? and reblogs from a bunch of out and out terfs} there was more but this isnt a callout post lol.

valentine lanzelet made a post about this crazy italian we found and she flipped out on him (this is one of several cursey italian tag rants)

roughly means: GO SHIT YOURSELF (italian alternative to go fuck you), RACIST TERF IS YOUR GRANDMOTHER IN A WHEELBARROW (italian saying which does not translate well) AND WHAT HAS ITALIAN COLONIALISM TO DO WITH THIS YOU UGLY SHIT, and anyways lancelot sucks

(translated by claudio beheaded)

anyway so then. and this is when it gets unhinged. she goes on this server me and a lot of my mutuals n friends r in, camelot, and starts complaining about me.

(in red is the server admin, who was lovely) i asked her to move this convo to dms if she must bc it was rude to bring drama into the server, and she refused, and started insisting that she was being bullied and just wanted to be left alone, so i was like okay lets all block each other and move on, and she refused, continuing to defend everything she was being criticized for

they also said claudio was making them look bad by translating their rants which like... queen if that made them look bad they were already a bad look.

so she keeps pinging people and replying to shit despite everyone else at this point begging her to just drop it and call it a stalemate

imagine this but around n around for like an hour. also she repeatedly got me and valentine confused it was super funny. also she claimed it was an invasion of her privacy for valentine to go on her public blog and look at the things she openly said and rbd there

so the server got put in slow mode and she KEPT GOING even though everyone was just begging her to stop and not even responding

as u can see, around this point we just started spamming her with emoji reactions. she announced she was leaving then went back to arguing a full three times before finally dipping from the server

then she continued complaining about us and calling us puriteens in her tags (trying to make it a proshipper v anti thing i guess lol?)

for literally months before finally remaking. also in that time she got in an argument about how the crusades were fine actually. italianphobia works hard but she works harder i guess

anyway i prolly left out a lot but thats the italian saga

#cw discourse #i guess?#conflict anyway #if any involved have funny things to add go ahead

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besanii · 4 years

Note

okay so no pressure at all to write this but consider: wwx leaving his cave bc lwj got slightly hurt or smth (not on purpose!) but rly lwj is just taking this opportunity to bully wwx into seeing and taking care of him? sorry haha but your double happiness fics made me continue to watch pillowbook so im dying bc fluff and sass 😂

Extra 13: 桃花蜜 (Peach blossom honey) | previous parts here

Wei Wuxian shuffles guiltily into the room, wringing his hands in front of him and chewing on his bottom lip. He hovers in the archway separating the private quarters from the main chamber, watching as Lan Wangji sits up in bed with a wince, one hand pressed over his right shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” he blurts out. Lan Wangji looks at him with a raised eyebrow and doesn’t respond, which makes him panic even more. “I didn’t mean to stab you for real. I only meant to—”

Still, Lan Wangji doesn’t speak. Guilt gnaws away at his gut, twisting and churning at his insides, and he sidles closer to the bed with his most apologetic expression.

“Lan Zhan…” he says, reaching out to pinch the edge of Lan Wangji’s sleeve between his fingers and giving it a quick tug. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He pouts for good measure. He really hadn’t meant to stab Lan Wangji with the knife. They had been sparring, and Lan Wangji had knocked Suibian from his hand, so Wei Wuxian had whipped out his knife as a substitute. There was no way he could have predicted that Lan Wangji would lose his footing and not be able to block his attack! He’d dropped the knife as soon as he realised what had happened, but it had already been too late.

But Lan Wangji still doesn’t acknowledge him, and Wei Wuxian is at a loss about what to do. He tugs a little harder at his sleeve.

“Lan Zhan,” he whines. “Tell me what I can do to fix it?”

Lan Wangji glances over at the bowl of medicine sitting on the table.

“The medicine,” he says.

Wei Wuxian leaps to obey, eager to do something as long as it means Lan Wangji doesn’t blame him for what happened. He perches on the edge of the bed and holds the bowl out to him. Lan Wangji looks down at it, then back up at Wei Wuxian.

“My shoulder is injured,” he says.

Wei Wuxian gapes.

“You want me to—” He looks down at the bowl, cheeks flushing indignantly. “I’m not your maid!”

Lan Wangji grunts, pressing his hand more firmly against his shoulder where he had been stabbed, and fixes Wei Wuxian with a pointed look as if to say 'this is your fault, take responsibility'. Which, okay, yes, he has a point. Wei Wuxian sighs and picks up the spoon reluctantly.

“You should consider yourself lucky,” he grumbles. “No one else has ever had the good fortune to be fed medicine by me personally.”

“You stabbed me,” Lan Wangji reminds him, leaning forward and sipping from the spoon in Wei Wuxian’s hand. He pulls back as soon as his lips touch the spoon. “It’s too hot.”

“You—!” Wei Wuxian splutters. “You’re a dragon! You control water!”

Lan Wangji coughs delicately and touches his shoulder again. Wei Wuxian grinds his teeth, takes a deep breath to calm himself down, and glares. And the bastard—the bastard has the audacity to sit there looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to cool down his medicine to an acceptable drinking temperature! He’s the Crown Prince of Qing Qiu, not some common nursemaid for Lan Wangji to boss around!

The fingers holding the spoon shake as he brings to closer to his own mouth and blows gently over the medicine to cool it. He briefly entertains the idea of heating the medicine instead of cooling it—it would only take a tiny spark of power—but decides against it. Who knows what Lan Wangji would make him do in retaliation. It wouldn’t be worth it.

He holds out the spoon to Lan Wangji, who drinks the medicine with a pleased little crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

“Mm, much better,” he says. He waits patiently for Wei Wuxian to bring the next spoonful to his mouth and drinks that too. Then he frowns. “It’s very bitter though.”

“Good medicine always is,” Wei Wuxian tells him shortly.

Lan Wangji turns away from the next spoonful with a put-upon expression and a tiny downturn of his lips.

“Some peach blossom honey would help,” he says, almost wistfully. And then he looks at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye.

How did he—?

“No, it won’t,” Wei Wuxian bites out through his clenched jaws. “Don’t be a baby.”

Lan Wangji sighs and sits back against the bedframe, his hand still clutching his injured shoulder.

“You can take the medicine away,” he says.

“You—!” Wei Wuxian exclaims in dismay. “How old are you, Lan Wangji? Wanting sweets with your medicine!”

But Lan Wangji stubbornly refuses the next spoonful that’s brought to his mouth. Wei Wuxian groans.

“What do you want from me?” he complains. “What will it take to get you to finish this medicine?”

He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the glint in Lan Wangji’s eyes. He resigns himself to surrendering his personal stash of peach blossom honey, the one Xiao Xingchen had specially developed for him as a kit to take with his own medicine. How Lan Wangji even knew that he carries a vial with him at all times is beyond him—

“Feed it to me,” Lan Wangji tells him.

“I am!”

Lan Wangji shakes his head.

“Not with the spoon,” he says. His eyes fall to Wei Wuxian’s lips.

“W-What?” Wei Wuxian cries, flushing to the roots of his hair, his heart racing at the thought despite his indignation. “No way! That’s—”

Shameless. Indecent. How could Lan Wangji suggest such a thing when they weren’t—!

“We’re engaged,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “It would not be inappropriate.”

"Fake engaged,” Wei Wuxian retorts. He fishes in his sleeve for the vial of peach blossom honey. “Here. Take it. You can have the whole thing with your stupid medicine. I hope you get cavities.”

He shoves it at Lan Wangji’s chest, only for his hand to be batted away.

“I don’t want it anymore,” Lan Wangji says. “I want you to feed me.”

“Lan Wangji! Don’t push your luck,” Wei Wuxian warns. He sets the bowl down on the bedside table with a clang and gets to his feet in a huff. “You have another hand, use it!”

A hand shoots out to grab his wrist as he turns to leave, and he’s yanked back down onto the bed with more force than any injured person should rightfully have, immortal or no. He finds himself on his back, splayed over Lan Wangji’s legs, looking up into his amber eyes, now darkened to the colour of rich honey. His heart is doing an impressive acrobatic routine in his chest and you could probably fry an egg on his face with the heat that rushes to it when he takes in their current position. A hand on his chest prevents him from getting up again.

“Wei Ying.” He shivers at the way Lan Wangji almost purrs his name. “Where are you going?”

“N-Nowhere,” he squeaks. Lan Wangji hums, pleased.

“Good boy.” The hand on his chest lightens enough so he can sit up, moving down to rest on his thigh instead. Wei Wuxian gulps. “The medicine, please.”

Wei Wuxian wishes he’d stabbed him a couple more times when he’d had the chance. Why stop at one, when he could riddle this lecherous bastard with holes? It would be infinitely more satisfying.

He picks up the bowl of medicine and looks at its murky brown contents with revulsion. He can’t believe he’s about to do this for Lan Wangji when he can barely stomach drinking medicine for himself. But when he goes to drink it, Lan Wangji grabs his hand and brings the bowl to his own mouth, downing the contents in one smooth swallow. Wei Wuxian stares at him, dumbstruck.

What the fuck?

The bowl is taken from him and something else is pressed into his hands while he’s still frozen. He looks down to see the vial of peach blossom honey and then back up into Lan Wangji’s expectant gaze, still feeling a little off-kilter. There isn’t a spare spoon. How does he—?

He removes the stopper from the vial and dips a finger inside, scooping out a dollop of rich, golden syrup. He stares at it, lost. What now?

Lan Wangji takes matters into his own hands and takes Wei Wuxian’s finger into his mouth. Heat flares through Wei Wuxian at the sensation of Lan Wangji’s tongue against his skin, running up the length of his arm and straight down into his belly. He gasps, high and breathy in the back of his throat, and whimpers when Lan Wangji chuckles, the vibrations tingling along every nerve in his finger. Then the heat is gone and air is cold against the residual wetness on his finger.

Lan Wangji hums.

“It’s delicious,” he says, pleased as punch. “Thank you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet with a gasp and runs out of the room, his hands pressed against his burning cheeks. Lan Wangji lets him leave without protest, stoppering the vial of peach blossom honey and turning it over in his hand with a satisfied smile.

// buy me a ko-fi //

#mdzs #wangxian #double happiness verse #雙喜臨門 #my writing #fox prince!wwx #dragon!lwj #THE RETURN OF SMUGJI #this ask has been sitting in my drafts for idk how long now #i forgot i had it #but here you go #this is BEFORE the feelings reveal ofc #wwx wishes he had stabbed him more #LWJ is very 得寸进尺 #rip wwx's last braincell #feat. 桃花蜜 #hey nonny nonny #asks

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