#now i’m just imagining so many possible bad takes. what have you done

[webslingingslasher]

hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things. 

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy. 

Needy. 

Needy, needy, needy. 

Needy, he called you needy. 

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were? 

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless. 

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind. 

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called. 

Silence drifted on the line. 

“Petey?” 

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid. 

“Peter, you there?” 

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial. 

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear. 

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?” 

You think it’s Mark. 

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second? 

Notes from future self, don’t. 

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.” 

Good? 

Good, that’s it? 

Good? 

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately. 

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign? 

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.” 

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker. 

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.” 

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him. 

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about. 

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk? 

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint. 

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.” 

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean? 

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call. 

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan. 

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.” 

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right. 

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.” 

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different. 

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him. 

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out. 

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real. 

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t. 

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door. 

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored. 

Like his four missed calls. 

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?” 

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them. 

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it. 

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind. 

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore. 

“It’s okay.” 

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said. 

“It’s…okay?” 

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.” 

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.” 

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.  

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.” 

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are. 

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended. 

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things. 

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it. 

“Don’t you have plans tonight?” 

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.” 

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy? 

Not tonight. 

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.” 

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time. 

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves. 

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.” 

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.” 

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-” 

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.” 

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?” 

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest. 

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.” 

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it. 

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?” 

You shrug, “I dunno.” 

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of. 

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands. 

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?” 

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change. 

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?” 

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed. 

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited. 

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.” 

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on. 

“So what did you mean?” 

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it. 

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much. 

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.” 

Your eyes narrow, “liar.” 

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you. 

“Can we talk?” 

You look at him oddly, “we are?” 

“Private.” 

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it. 

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.” 

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip. 

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand. 

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair. 

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.” 

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry. 

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.” 

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever. 

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.” 

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right? 

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question. 

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.” 

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears. 

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.” 

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.” 

[i520u]

⌕ dates with riize 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

hello briize hello riize lovers i’m one of you please keep the requests coming

PAIRING riize x gn!reader (not proofread!)

TAGS sfw, fluff, headcanons

OSAKI SHOTARO ༄

literally all sunshines and rainbows throughout the rest of the relationship

if you get into an argument with him that has GOT to be your fault idk what to tell you

i feel like he’s the type of boyfriend to teach you how to drive

and when you hit the curb he’s like “that’s okay! we can try again when i fix the car!”

but at the same time he’s gripping that roof handle in the car for dear life but he’s just too sweet to tell you that your driving’s horrible

he never lets you drive again btw

HE’D FILM SOOO MANY DANCE TIKTOKS WITH YOU!!!

also i feel like instead of a gf effect, it’s the opposite with him because he gives you the bf effect

your entire fashion style is gonna change for sure like have you seen this man? that is a man of AESTHETICS

would be so enthusiastic with teaching you all the tiktok dance steps

and none of these tiktoks are cringe they’re actually those cool ones

the type to hug you at the end of the tiktok video or kiss the temple of your head idk…

i imagine his ideal dates might be cafe hopping/cafe hunting all across tokyo or just shopping around shibuya

takes you to one of those claw machines while you’re shopping and he’ll try winning you a random plushie of an anime that neither of you watch

so now you have a random plush of like… some dude from haikyuu

would pay for your drinks btw (coffee, milk tea, matcha)

SONG EUNSEOK ༄

OK LISTEN.

cake decorating

he just looks like he’d enjoy doing that like did you see how proud he was wearing that hello kitty hairclip

please this man is gonna hear you suggest it and he’s like “LET’S GO!!”

craziest part is that he’s gonna eat you up at decorating it too

you’ll see him make a cute flower on his cake using the cream and you’re like “how did you do that :( how dare you be better than me :(”

and he’s gonna giggle nervously and his face is gonna turn a light shade of red while he helped you out

“i’m not better than you, we’re equally good.” and then he compares your cakes together and the only reason why yours looks ok is because he helped you for the most part

if you genuinely feel a little gloomy that yours looked bad he would purposely mess up on the rest of his cake

because eunseok will never be caught dead leaving his beloved partner unhappy, no matter how small the issue might be

i feel like he would notice those little shift of emotions that you have that even you barely notice

and he’d do his best to cheer you up because you’re just his everything </3

after the cakes are done he takes 282629 pictures of you and your cake and then he’d probably say things like “keep posing, you’re so pretty”

i think most of his dates would involve domestic things like that

if you don’t live together he’d crash to your house, help you deep clean the entire house and he considers that a date too

a little bit more low maintenance when it comes to relationships if that makes sense

also i think he’s not very clingy but he LOVESSS a clingy partner even if he doesn’t verbally say or show it

he’s always have a light blush on his face whenever you just cling on him

so please cling onto him as much as possible

JUNG SUNGCHAN ༄

just a feeling… but

gym dates 😭

and he’s so cheesy about it okay like at first you’re reluctant because the thought of going to a gym scares you

but then the first time you go there and he’s like so touchy with you in a good way

purposely standing so close to you while he helps you out with the equipments

maybe at one point he’s even like “yeah just do it like that.” while helping you out with the weights and then giving you a kiss on the cheek

which catches you off guard you almost dropped the weights but he was holding it with you so you’re good

when you blush he would let out a flustered giggle and won’t comment on it

and then you make it even worse by saying something like “i’m just flushed from the workout” and he’s like “sure babe”

would always be close to you just in case you’re caught underneath the weight and you can’t lift it up anymore

at the end of the date you’re like “i can’t move my legs” and then he just carries you

takes you out to eat something sweet afterwards

he’s going to be all smiley the whole time too

at the end he’s like “didn’t i tell you it would be fun? do you wanna go to the gym with me again next week?”

if you say no he’s not gonna sulk and punch the wall or something he’s just gonna be like “aww that’s alright too.” and then kiss your head

then he would say something like “you were incredible on your first try though, i’m proud of you.”

clenches fist i want him so bad…

PARK WONBIN ༄

i swear wonbin’s a little weird

like have you seen his tiktoks… something’s strange about that man

i think he stated before that he loves shopping so you KNOW what that means

always send you vids he sees on the internet about some new shop opening up in hongdae or something and he’s like “let’s go bae”

sends you the weirdest tiktoks and is like “you”

and then you’re like “wonbin what”

and he won’t elaborate

sends you his fit checks

if you don’t approve he will actually sulk i’m not kidding

sometimes when he’s bored he’d write a song for you

like not a singing song but a musical one from his guitar if that makes sense

he loves matching with you. matching earrings, matching clothes, matching beanies.

ohh i feel like he’d also do those cute couple videos on tiktok like you know he would slow dance with you in the snow and post it for everyone to see this man LOVES soft launching you

his soft launches are also by no means him trying to hide you or keep you a secret, it’s more like… he just likes to have a mysterious vibe to his online person 😍

also i think he loves leaving kisses on your neck whenever you snuggle up to watch a movie or something

like you’re talking to him while you’re on his lap and he’s just like “mhm, and then what?” and then he gives you kisses down your jaw and neck

he’s all over you PLEASE no matter in public or private and it’s even worse (or better 😜) in private too

HONG SEUNGHAN ༄

definitely a gamer bf

dates with him involves him going out to see the sun for the first time that week ❤️

i’m just kidding but your dates probably involves a lot of going out because you feel like this man NEEDS to get some sunlight

also one of the guys that enjoys PDA

he wins the idgaf war he would kiss you at any point of time if he suddenly feels like it

you can just be talking like straight up gossiping about something that happened between your aunt and a scammer and he would just…

he would just grabbed the sides of your face and plant the deepest kiss ever

and then you’re all flustered and he would burst into laughter

he’s the biggest flirt ever he has this one stare that would leave you WEAK in the knees

definitely has a habit of staring at your lips when you talk which makes you SOOO nervous

plays with your hands or hair while you talk

just a thought but he’d definitely run his thumb over your lower lip after he kissed it WOAH

calls you with the most generic pet names but god it makes you run LAPS

also when you come over his house he’d make you pull for him on that FIFA game idk how the game works but i hope you get what i’m trying to say

LEE SOHEE ༄

AH i feel like him as a bf is so fun

he looks like so much fun from the instagram/tiktok posts tbh

the most normal boyfriend ever help idk how to explain it

sends you pictures of him at work with captions like “fighting my hardest battle (i’m at the work i willingly applied for)

various dates

he doesn’t always suggest ideas for dates but he goes ALL out for you when you suggest them

you want to watch the sunset? best believe he’ll take you to the prettiest beach he could find for you to enjoy

you want to have a movie date? he’s gonna set up the projector at his house HIMSELF

i don’t think he’s very keen on kissing in public but he has no problem holding you close to him

holds your hand, holds you by your waist, EVERYTHING

takes 0.5x pictures of you from your forehead

he has a picture of the two of you completing a heart drawn on your cheeks as his lockscreen

always yapping about you like

“my lover made me this lunch”

“my lover gave me this for my birthday”

“my lover tied my tie for me today”

his favourite type of dates are karaoke dates sorry like this man is beyonce’s son he’s GOING to use that godsent vocals of his

also i feel like anniversary celebrations are so grand with him his love for you is so genuine he wants to give you the world and more

i want him so bad… he’s my goat

ANTON LEE ༄

dates are SOPHISTICATED

he’s bred in BOSTON you know he goes crazy with that shit

make you dress up fancy in silk and satin and stuff everyone once in a while to take you to a fine dining i’m so serious

takes you on concert dates too

like… mitski or laufey or niki zenfaya concert dates

he would lift you up on his shoulders during these concerts so you would see clearly

also likes backhugging you

he’s so soft spoken so you don’t have the heart to ever start any arguments with him

when he was a swimmer he’d give you those vip pass or something (idk how dating an athlete works oops)

after his competition finish and he’s still wet from the water and its just covered by his towel and swim attire, he would go up to you with a flushed face and would ask you if he looked cool or not

i think he’s the type to enjoy talking to you most of the time during dates or just like an everyday occurrence

like he loves staring into your eyes as you speak he loves you so much but he’s too shy to tell you that so often

he’s not the type to just blurt out “i love you” but you can just tell that his feelings for you are true from the way he stares at you

would let you decorate his hair with your hairclips and would wear them out for the rest of the day

he’s soooo smitten by you it’s crazy

[chimielie]

sun seeker

summary: you are a princess, a future queen. somehow, this is still not enough.

word count: 1.5k

cw: fighting, oikawa’s an asshole (sorry), arranged marriage/royalty au, fake history stuff, angst to fluff (i guess), i’m not telling you who the love interest is but like. Guess, misogyny, ambiguous ending

a/n: if i tell you that i imagined a whole other side for oikawa will you forgive me? also this was supposed to be a short drabble related to between lightning strikes but it very much was not. my bad

Your betrothed is unexpectedly quiet.

It had only been a few days since you met the crown prince, having been sequestered in your father’s court in the country for most of your life, learning to fill the seat of someday-Empress. The capital is huge, bustling with people, always noisy—or so you surmised from within your veiled carriage. You had thought, as you bowed before the Emperor and Imperial Heir, that your life was finally beginning, finally growing beyond the narrow confines of etiquette training and religious rituals.

Instead, you felt your dreams shrivel and die as your daily routine proceeded exactly as it had for close to two decades. The only difference was time mandatorily spent with Tooru, who seemed… less than enthused by your match.

You had dreamed of someone who chafed against authority as you had, who felt as bound by propriety despite the privilege of your positions. Alas, you found him to be both sullen and arrogant, eager to rule but in denial of his own dissatisfaction with a noblewoman such as yourself. It made you want to scream. You had not chosen the circumstances of your birth, the path which you had been led to walk. It was not your fault that fate had pushed you two so forcefully together without regard for your desires, ambitions, or personalities.

“I was told you visited the temple this morning,” you say, watching your fiancé pause a long sip of tea, his brown eyes temporarily widening. Your face slips momentarily into a frown; you cannot conceal your frustration with his clear disdain for such small talk but unwillingness to bring anything more engaging to your table.

“Yes,” he says finally, setting down his cup. Light brown liquid sloshes over the rim and onto his fingers; he wipes them on his robes without care for the expensive fabric. “There are many rituals that must be done to ensure the most auspicious wedding possible.” His voice catches noticeably on the word wedding. You take a sip of your own tea to hide your grimace.

It is lukewarm. How long have you been sitting here, trying to force civility?

“Did it go well?” You ask in turn, your pitch straining. Behind you, one of the imperial guards snorts. When you try to discern which of them broke character, they have all returned to a stoic, uniform position. You straighten your posture.

“It was satisfactory,” Tooru says. You hear the snort again, and the crown prince’s lips twitch, just barely.

You shut your eyes tightly for a moment, trying to take in a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, though, bound by heavy fabrics and scarlet ribbon. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere for the air to go.

“What did you do this morning?” He asks, and you throw the cup at him.

His Imperial Highness is athletic beneath his aristocracy, and he dodges it easily. It bounces off one of the silk screens behind him and lies, cracked in two, in a puddle of lukewarm tea on the floor. You bury your face in your hands and scream through your teeth, a short, guttural noise that carves a little more space in your chest to breathe.

When you look up again, he stands over you, his perfect brows pulled into an expression of concern. You know without looking that two of the Imperial Guard are standing behind you, hands on their weapons.

“You have asked me that,” you say slowly, fighting to push the words out through the red haze of rage, “twice now. And you asked what my plans were yesterday. And the answer is always the same: wait in my rooms for you to call, because I am a painting of a woman waiting for you to walk in and criticize my form and decide that I am satisfactory.”

“I didn’t—” he says, and for a moment you become a fairytale heroine instead of a scorned princess, sitting on the floor looking up at him with despondent eyes that betray your desire to be loved. “This is what we are,” he decides finally, expression no longer concerned. “I think perhaps you need some rest.”

“You cannot be serious,” you seethe, pushing yourself to your feet. One of the guards puts a hand on you, ready to restrain you.

Tooru turns, his back facing you. He glances back as he exits, tone bored, eyes cold.

“Do not worry yourself,” he tells you, “I still find you satisfactory.”

You lunge after him, but two strong hands clamp down on your arms, hauling you back. You writhe and kick, but when you look up at your guard, his face is impassive, his eyes distant.

“I hate you,” you snarl, and watch as his eyes flicker down to your face. Seeing you. “I hate you,” you say again, but it sounds much more like a sob.

You can’t sleep that night.

The moon is full, high and bright, and every time you close your eyes, you see visions of your future. A glorified concubine, living in an expensive sanitarium, surely to be driven to insanity before your husband can ascend the throne.

You sit up, wild-eyed, and throw your door open with more force than you realize.

“Princess,” says your guard, startled.

“I can’t sleep,” you say, your heart thrumming in your chest. “Hajime, please, I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t let you out of your quarters,” Iwaizumi Hajime, head of your security detail, says.

“I don’t want—” you start, and he gives you a knowing look. “I know. Please just come and—talk with me. A little.”

He sighs, deeply, a rush of wind through cypress trees, and follows you into your room.

“Sit,” you order him, and the moonlight affords you the ability to see his green eyes flash with panic. “I am your future queen. Sit.”

He sits, trying to maintain his stern, professional face, even as you peel his helmet off and run your hands through his flattened hair.

“You lied to me,” you hum, and he jerks under your touch, façade breaking. “You told me Tooru never shut up.”

“I knew him a long time ago,” says Hajime. One of the few who had come with you to Kyoto, he had been raised here and come to your father’s court as a youth to learn to fight. “He’s not—he’s stubborn. He’ll soften eventually.”

“I don’t care,” you say bitterly. “Why did you hold me back?”

“He’s the prince,” Hajime says, his voice rasping with exasperation.

“I am the princess,” you say, and his lips press together into a straight line.

“My princess,” he murmurs. Hajime has always run warm, much more suited for Kyoto’s climate than your hometown’s. When he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, you can feel his body heat through his armor.

“You let him say horrible things to me,” you say. His hold on you tightens.

“He is my oldest friend.”

“I am your—” you sigh heavily, pushing away from him, looking out at the moon. “I am nothing to you. I will live, though I am ungrateful. Many would say I am the luckiest woman in all the land.” The air is very cold without his touch.

“You are not nothing to me,” Hajime says, and you smile wistfully at his selective hearing.

“At least I am satisfactory.” You don’t see what happens, but Hajime’s helmet clatters loudly on the floor a moment later. “What—”

“He is my oldest friend,” he repeats himself, but his voice is low, so deep in his chest you can barely hear him. It does not matter; you can feel his words. “I wanted to kill him.”

Your lips part on a silent gasp, and he leans in close, so close that you can nearly taste him. You’ve always loved the way he smells, something base that relaxes you instantly. You haven’t been this close to him since you left home.

“He’s the Emperor,” he continues, “I can’t hurt him. I held us back.”

“Us?” You ask, his fingers suddenly tightly intertwined with yours.

“Ask me to help you leave,” he says, and you shut your eyes against his gaze, frightening and familiar all at once. “Ask me to take you away from here. I had—I have plans, and you will not be happy with him, Princess. You will be more than satisfactory, satisfied—you will be loved.”

Something knotted tightly unspools in you, red threads laying themselves out in perfect lines. You duck your head and nod against his shoulder, face rubbing against the metal of his armor.

You aren’t likely to succeed, you know, no matter how thoroughly Hajime has planned. Your fiancé will look for you: a stubborn man, like he had said. You do not know if his disdain for you or his love for Hajime will protect you. You could both die.

“Take me away,” you say, voice ringing out like a queen’s.

The moon, at its fullest cycle, chases its estranged wife into the day. The crown prince wakes without his betrothed. The world only spins forward.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother and going nuts

Pairing: Geto's little sister x husband!Gojo

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Warnings: this is a emotional rollercoaster, (y/n) is a bad bitch but damn that just hurts, drama over drama, cursing over cursing, I worked so hard to get this fic out tonight so please show some love 😭not proofread yet, will do that tomorrow!

„I’ll leave now.“

You look up from your magazine, furrowing your eyebrows at your oh so precious husband.

“Weren’t you suppose to leave…Like two hours ago?”, you question innocently.

“I wasn’t done in the bathroom.”

“You’re so vain that it hurts.”

“Watch your mouth, Geto”, he warns you by your former last name.

With a swift motion he lands on top of you, large figure almost swallowing you whole while you grin at him triumphally. Were you just teasing Satoru for him to grab you by the throat ever so slightly, for him to stare at you with his dirty blue eyes?

Definitely.

“Or what, Gojo?”, you bite back, emphasizing every syllable of his last name with so much provocation that it takes all his strength to stop himself from fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

He never imagined you to lay under him this way. You, the sister of his best friend. You, who always seemed so threatful unbothered by him. Just before Suguru decided to leave all of you behind, just before he massacred both of your parents, you decided to give him a chance. And you didn’t even change your mind when he was forced to kill your big brother.

“You want me to stay here and leave our students out there alone?”, he hushes against your lips.

Because if you would, he’d definitely stay here all night.

“You know I’m always up for you, but not tonight. They actually called me as well when you were busy doing your pretty hair in the bathroom. Something serious is going on there. I’ll join as soon as I’m ready here.”

Since your brother decided to kill everyone apart from jujutsu sorcerers, you were always keen to do the exact opposite by saving as many people as possible. As much as you love him still, as much as you do in fact somehow understand him, he went down a path you couldn’t follow. He was like your older twin. Not only by looks, but also your cursed techniques were the same, made you a powerful weapon against these fucking curses.

Well, now you’re your own weapon as it seems. Your eyes stare up at your now husband who still looks at you with the same affection in his eyes like more than 10 years ago.  

No, you aren’t alone. After all, you’ll always have Satoru by your side.

“Get your pretty ass moving then. We’ve got some work to do.”

-later in Shibuya-

You desperately try to ignore the way your guts turn, yanking down the busted streets as if you’re haunted.

He’s sealed.

Satoru Gojo, your newly husband, the one and only who stuck to you all these damn years, the love of your fucking life.

Sealed, gone in the wind, trapped in a tiny box.

But as if that wasn’t enough, rumours reached your ear. Rumours about none other than your big brother being responsible for this. Your big, dead brother.

Your feet clash against the hard ground underneath, body sprinting towards what looks like a new battlefield. Whoever this fucker is will pay for what he’s done. Not only to your husband, but to your brother as well.

And what about your students? You didn’t arrive on time, not a single update reached your ear when you entered the curtain, eyes wide open in disbelief by all the death surrounding you. If that thing hurt a single one of them, if a single jujutsu sorcerer lost their life here…

You’ll lose it completely.

The second a wave of what looks like ice begins to dart towards the recognizable outlines of people you waste no time, shooting a bunch of grade one curses their way while using one as a curtain to hold back the ice.

“(y/n)…Is…Is that you?”

Yuji. A few other students from Kyoto, Utahime, Panda, Kusakabe. They’re injured, but alive. What about the rest? Where are Mei Mei, Toge, Nanami and that old Zenin fart? You give yourself a little shake, eyes focused on your curse and the wave of ice in front of you. Now is not the right time to think about all of that. Your priority is to finally catch that fucker who uses your brother’s appearance and saving who’s here at the moment.

And the most important, get your sealed husband back.

“You have some fucking nerve, showing up and making such a mess. And now you’re even dumb enough to attack other jujutsu sorcerers. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, eyes focused in front of you. Maybe that person just looks like him, Suguru. You found peace with the fact that he’s gone a long time ago, it’s simply not possible to see his gentle eyes ever again. You accepted the fact that he won’t trade his pokemon cards with you, that the time of getting on his nerves while secretly loving him dearly is over. No one can copy him, no one can-

“You are pretty late, (y/n).”

No one can sound like him. You shake your head in utter disbelief, mind desperately trying to process the fact that this sounded exactly like Suguru Geto, that the frame behind the falling curtain of ice and purple is…

Him.

You can’t move an inch. Instead, you just stand there in silence, staring him up and down. This looks just like him, this sounds like him. Fuck, this even smells like him, radiates the same energy as him.

But no.

The way he said your name wasn’t the same. It missed the soft tone in his voice, how it always lightened up by his small smile when seeing you.

“And you’re in big trouble.”

Is it an hallucination, some type of strange technique? No, it has to be his body, it is his body. Somebody else seems to control it.

And that someone will pay for using him, for tarnishing his memory.

“Is my own little sister not able to recognize me? I guess that’s not as bad as getting betrayed by her, though.”

“Spare me with that bullshit. It seems like you really know nothing about me and my big brother. What do you want me to do, huh? Break down in tears and cry, believe that you’re actually him? I will wipe your ass from this earth without even blinking. But before that, I want my husband back”, you his through gritted teeth.

“What betrayed me, little (y/n)? How did you know it wasn’t him?”

His figure comes closer, makes you urge to touch him just once. This is still his body, a body that reminds you of all the things you’ve been through. The serious business of trading pokemon cards that you did until he left, your shared training sessions, him introducing you to Satoru, him holding you in his arms when you’ve got your first heartbreak only for him to hold you back when you tried to set that poor boy on fire. This body still holds all of those memories.

But it doesn’t hold him anymore.

Your husband lives, though. He might be sealed, but he’s still somewhere. And that fucker has him, you just know it.

You shake them off, those feelings of melancholy. Time to focus on reality. And reality is that Satoru killed your big brother a year ago, that this thing in front of you has nothing in common with him except his appearance.

“No one will ever by as charming as he was. Now, will you give me my husband back without a fight and let me kill you? I’m not in the mood for a talk with you, y’know.”

It’s impossible and you know it. There is no way in hell this thing will give up its plan and just hand Satoru over. But at least this will buy you some time.

“You should know best that you don’t stand a chance against his body, don’t you think?”

A disregarding huff escapes your lips while you straighten your shoulders and stare right into the eyes of the big brother you’ve lost a year ago. God knows you really tried to stay cool, that you were desperate to keep your composure. But the second it grins at you with his charming face, it’s over and out.

“You should know that I wasn’t only better at pokemon trading, moron.”

“Stand behind me, I’ve got this.”

“But (y/n)-“

You don’t waste another minute. With a blast of another wave of different curses, you hit him with full force. Over the last few years, you absorbed every curse you stumbled upon. Especially the night parade was the perfect opportunity for you to steal your big brother’s precious curses. And even though you swore you yourself that you’ll never lose them, that they will remain in loving memory by your side, this seems like the perfect time to release them.

For a brief moment, you feel like crying, the way it just laughs at you with his voice, wearing his yukata, even wearing his hairstyle. How did it even come so far? How did this thing end up in your big brother’s body?

He would have wanted this, right? That you destroy his body in order to stop this madness. Despite all the horrible things he’s done, Suguru would have never wanted jujutsu sorcerers to get hurt, especially not Satoru. No, he would have never allowed your husband to get sealed, he wouldn’t let anyone attack you this roughly.

Your husband…How is he doing? Is he still alive? You feel like throwing up, just the minor thought of him potentially dying in this seal…No one was ever able to get out, some of the strongest sorcerers ended up in that cube.

No.

This needs to stop.

“Get yourself together”, you hiss to yourself, shaking off your stinging thoughts immediately.

This is not the time for sadness or grief.

This is the time for pure rage.

“I will make you pay for every sin you committed with his body”, you shout towards him while attacking him from underneath.

This thing is so fucking fast, using Suguru’s powers so efficiently that you’re almost not able to follow its movements.

You clench your hands into fists, eyes narrowed while thick fury pumps through your veins. Get yourself together, this isn’t only about taking revenge.

This is about getting your husband back.

“What would he think about you, seeing you this way? I know how disappointed he was when you left him to die, leaving him for his former best friend. And I thought I am cruel”, it spits at you, shooting another wave of curses your way.

“You know absolutely nothing about him, let alone me. You’re nothing but a parasite in his body, a bug I’ll crush underneath my heel.”

You draw yourself closer, keeping him busy in hand to hand combat. You were always better than Suguru when it came to fighting without any curses around. Where the hell does he keep that damned cube?

“You and me, we’re both parasites, (y/n). But unlike you, I can still look into the mirror without being disgusted of the way I turned out.”

“That’s because you’re looking into his gorgeous face, idiot”, you bite back, landing a full-on hit against his ribcage.

“Is that Satoru Gojo’s wife?”, Noritoshi Kamo mutters in sheer disbelief, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements.

“Yep, the one and only”, Panda confirms dryly.

“Take a few steps back. She’ll definitely freak out-“

“RUN!”, Yuji cries on top of his lungs.

Countless courses roam around you and your big brothers’ corpse, fighting each other for dear life. He can’t help but admire you, the spark that gleams in your eyes, the way you don’t even try to hold back despite the stinging fact that you’re fighting against your brothers’ body. You look so threatful that it almost takes his breath away.

If it wasn’t for the last weapon he has in store.

“You’re not giving it everything, you’re holding back!”, he screams over the deafening noise around you both, making your veins stand out even more.

You see nothing but red, nothing but the shell of the brother you used to love, nothing but a monster that trapped your husband. That thing…That fucking thing straight out of hell.

“Uzumaki.”

The word leaves your mouths at the same time. Like in trance you stand there, watch as a giant wave of condensed cursed energy builds up behind Suguru’s frame, watch as it shoots towards you like an arrow.

You aren’t a fool, fully aware of the fact that you might get killed right here on the spot. This is your only chance to win this fight, to leave your brother’s body where it belongs, to free your husband out of that things’ grasp. But…are you strong enough?

“I can’t believe you’re already stronger than me. Look at you, (y/n).”

You kneeled down in front of him, took his hand into yours gently while desperately trying to supress a sob. This was it, the time you had to say your final goodbye to your best friend.

“Well, I just stole a whole bunch of your curses at that parade. They did taste like shit though.”

His kind smile radiated through the dark alley, right through your heavy heart. This…this couldn’t be the end. You weren’t even able to spend one last evening with him, to show him the pokemon cards you stole some kid.

“I don’t want you to go”, you finally gave in.

Faster than he was able to react, you wrapped your desperate arms around him, rested your head against his bloody chest. This couldn’t be the end, Suguru couldn’t leave you like that.

“I fear I have to, (y/n). You still got Satoru-“

“Satoru is not you”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Satoru is not my big brother. Satoru will never be you.”

“I’m so proud of the person you have become, (y/n). You are far more than a normal jujutsu sorcerer, way better than all those monkeys. You are my special, my everything. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’ll always stay (y/n) Geto to me. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Your eyes widen. Suguru, he firmly believed in you, never even second-guessed your abilities.

“You…just beat me.”

Your heavy breath hung in the air between both of you, body collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. What did Satoru just say? What did even happen the last few seconds?

“Babe, you…You were actually able to beat me.”

You…beat none other than Satoru Gojo?

“Impossible”, you murmured to yourself, staring at your bloody hands in sheer disbelief.

“You became so damn strong. My god, I’m so proud of you, (y/n)! You just have to work your ass off even more. Come on, get up, attack me again.”

And Satoru, the love of your life, your precious husband, the strongest…You were able to beat him.

You take a deep breath in, whole body being on fire. This is your moment. And you won’t let a cheap copy of your brother defeat you like that.

Like in trance, you dash forward along with your thick cursed energy, hands stretched out for him. One last look into his chocolate brown eyes, one last glance at his usually so soft features before you hit him with your fest shoot, a toe-curling scream of agony and rage escaping your lips while slamming him into the ground. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Back to where he belongs: six feet under.

“Give me my husband back”, you spit at him, grabbing his throat so harshly that you can feel his windpipe struggle against your palm.

Instead of replying, he just plainly laughs at you, bloodshot eyes almost piercing through you. That’s enough.

“Is this how you let it end, Suguru? Are you really letting this moron take control over your body like that! Come on, defend yourself, give Satoru back to me!”, you cry on top of your lungs, staring into the brown orbs you used to know so well.

“Pathetic. I am the one who’s in control of this body now, stupid girl!”

“I still have the shiny flareon you gifted me when I was 6, I’m always carrying it with me. I’m still sleeping in the shirt I stole from you when you were 16. You’ve done many things wrong in your way too short life, please do this one last thing right! Please give Satoru back to me.”

Your heart almost stops when his trembling arms yanks into the air, uncontrollably roaming around his Yukata.

Until he stretches it right in front of your face. The prison realm. Your husband.

“This…this can’t be possible! I am the one who is in control over this body!”

Your body goes numb, widen eyes staring at his arm while your heart skips a beat. This is really him, your Suguru. He really is strong enough to even outstand death.

His fingertips brush over your cheek ever so gently. Fuck, you feel like breaking down and crying. This right in front of you is your big brother, the person you thought you lost a year ago, the man who slipped through your fingers when he was 16 without you even noticing. You weren’t there for him the way you should have been, weren’t able to drag him back onto your side, weren’t able to save him from his unnecessary death.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I will always love you with all my heart.”

But you know you have to go.

Now.

With one last glimpse you yank yourself into the air, hand holding onto that little cube for dear life.

Focus on the mission.

“We need to go, now”, you yell towards your students, sending a curse in the form of a dragon their way.

You straighten your shoulders, chase away the memories that threaten to destroy you completely.

“Hey hot thing, long time no see. Guess you were just as surprised as me when you saw him again, huh?”, you mutter towards the cube in your hands that has its bright blue eyes set on you.

“I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’ll get you out of there, Satoru. After all, we’re the strongest…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @tachiharazsstuff @kawaiiakamaru @lilacsinjuly @nazeeraswife @eva-616 @revrse @thel0v3hashira143 @arehzhera @circe143 @mitsuristoleme @sugaremedy @sugurulefttesticle @sweetchildcloud @invmakitoge @a-daydreamers-day @rhinara-vy

[burn-before-reading]

Love in the Time of Socialism

joost klein x artist!reader

art, mush, and ramblings about life

warnings: depression (ish), burnout, reader character in some vague mental health funk

word count: 2k

a/n: slight prequel to blue is the colour of your eyes but can be read as stand alone. just same artist reader. vaguely romantic but just ramblings and getting feelings out haha. started this when I was in more of a bad mental state (lol) but im fine now so it got kinda tame by the end of it. still not proofreading anything

title from the song Love in the Time of Socialism by Yellow House

Rpf below the cut—

Normally Joost has to call you because its the only way you will actually look at your phone. Its more often that not you find yourself fixated on planning out your next project, and your friends have to force you back into reality. There was that one time no one had heard from you in over a week and thought you were dead, when you were just working. You hadn’t realized how many texts you missed and apologized for scaring your friends half to death. Especially Joost.

So now you leave your ringer on, and now they call.

Tonight, however, Joost calls and you aren’t in your studio. You are in your bed, where you have been for the entire day. and also most of yesterday. There isn’t a reason in your head specifically why this has happened. you MEANT to get up. Theres a list of chores and things to do just sitting on your desk, but you woke up late, so now nothing will get done. At some point it just became too stressful to even get up and look at it. You roll over and stare at the contact picture of him, smiling with some dumb fish eye lens he thought was funny. You debate not picking up at all.

But you can’t ignore him.

“Hi Joost.” your voice came through the phone more hoarse than intended when you answered, you don’t remember the last time you talked to someone. “Whats going on?”

“the others wanted to go out for drinks tonight, you hadn’t responded so I wanted to check you were joining us.” You could imagine him rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of his living room while he talked, it was either that or pacing around.

“uhh..” Drinks at a bar was the last thing on your mind. In any other situation you would have loved to be around your friends, but right now you just needed to avoided as much as possible. “Not a good night, tonight. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time.”

Joost felt like something was off, you sounded tired. “Is everything okay?”

“I’ll be fine I just… shit brain day. bad brain thats all. It happens.” You did your best to summarize how you felt without actually admitting anything, you weren’t sure how to explain anything anyway.

“ Oh Im sorry, would it be good, if I came over? I can keep you company, if thats okay?”

“you don’t have to, I’ll be fine tomorrow. I want you to have fun. ” you insisted, but he pressed on.

“I don’t mind, the group would understand. Have you eaten today?”

“Like… a meal? yes, or well, no. I had a soda..” You glance at the half drunk soda from the night before, now flat. “and uhhh..”

“I’ll pick something up.” You could hear him on the other end gathering things together, keys, wallet, probably his ipad.

“.. thank you. I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

-

Joost knocked on your door about an hour later. In that time you were able to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom to change and make yourself somewhat presentable in front of a guest, and to the kitchen to make coffee despite it being 8pm.

You opened it to see Joost with a sheepish smile as he extends his arms out for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi Joost.” you take the step to hug him, feeling his body heat contrast with the cold nighttime. “I’m glad you’re here.” the two of you head inside to your living room where he empties his bag of take out to reveal a couple different thai dishes and egg rolls. It was hard to not admit you weren’t at least a little bit hungry.

The two of you ate in mostly silence, making small talk about different projects you two have going on, or the fact that the two of you were in between projects. He done with touring for the time being and in the process of working on a new album. You loosely avoiding talking about any current work plans but mentioned one or two paintings you finished for a private gallery commission last month.

“ Just some paintings of animals and nature-ish symbolism. Honestly my heart wasn’t really in that one, but it payed the rent so.” you shrug and shove noodles into your mouth.

“Well now you have the time to work on your own stuff, right?” he commented, leaning back into your couch and looking down at you sitting on the floor instead of any of your own furniture. “Draw whatever your heart desires.”

“I mean I guess.. Im just glad to be done with the oil paints for now. I swear i think I was gonna die in my studio from all the chemicals. I dunno, I finished that whole project last month, I haven’t really been very productive since then.” you trail off and Joost gets a concerned expression on his face.

He sinks down from his spot of the couch to join you in the floor. The fluffy rug brushing against his legs as he adjusts his new sitting position.

“Its okay to take a break, you know.”

“I know I know, I just get frustrated. I never seem to have my energy directed towards the right thing. Whenever I have all those big projects from other contractors, I can brainstorm and think of all these interesting ideas I wanna work on, but I can’t because then I would get behind on the art Im being paid to do.”

“mhm.” he nods, to indicate he’s following along.

“ And then whenever Im done with those projects, I just get… tired. and my focus is gone. and Everything just feels…” you gesture the last bit with your hands, scrambling your fingers, to imply your thoughts. You aren’t looking at him, but you can still see him nodding in your peripherals. Joost always seemed to understand your thinking and explanations to things, even if you thought they were messy.

“Do you want to try painting right now?” he asks. you just shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know what I would paint.”

“You can paint our dinner, or, or yourself, or your plants maybe?” he suggested and stands up. “Can I paint too?”

“Oh we’re actually doing this?” Not that you didn’t want to, but this self doubt had creeped into your mind again. That failing to produce something decent would prove that you’ve lost all your talent, your skill.

“yea we can have a little painting party!” he chimed, but he hesitated walking over to your studio to grab stuff, still giving you the space to reject his idea.

you looked away and started nervously tapping your fork against the table.

tap tap tap tap

“…sure. We can use my watercolors, Ive been wanting to use them more often anyway.”

the coffee table became a little more cluttered as you set up the paints for the two of you. Joost using an old set 24 pans and you using a newer set of watercolor tubes you were gifted last year and never opened. You watched as Joost immediately dipped his brush in water and started activating the blue paints, spreading it onto his paper in big random strokes.

“what are you painting?”

“not sure yet, maybe im painting you.” he looks up and smirks. you scrunch your nose up.

“why are you using so much blue. am I a smurf?” you joke and he just shrugs and points to your own paper.

“Just mess around, can’t be any worse than what im doing.”

tap tap tap tap tap tap

you fidget with your own brush for a few seconds lo get before grabbing a big mop brush and wetting your paper with clean water. Taking your smaller brush again, you pour out a small amount of yellow and mix it up with some more water. You hesitate for a moment longer before letting the brush lightly touch the surface, creating a burst of colour on the paper as the colour seeps onto the page. You make a few more random marks before switching to another warm colour and repeating the process, now watching the colours bleeds and mix into each other. You look at Joost paper and see that he is actually now trying to paint you, the blue fortunately was able to be mostly contained to the background.

“Do you ever think about what you would do if you weren’t a musician?” you ask.

“I dunno I think after this I could have a pretty successful art career.” he teases but sees in your face the question is more serious. “I don’t know. I started off with youtube, but if I wasn’t doing that… its hard to think about what my life would be like if I didn’t follow this path.”

“I always have this feeling deep down, that I made a wrong choice somewhere along the line. I was thinking about going to school for psychology, I also wanted to work with animals at one point, be a vet. I enjoy art, don’t get me wrong, but I just worry that in making it my job Ive just drained all the passion I had for it.”

You let the paper dry before staining the page with lines of dark burgundy, creating hands and a human heart. he hums as he listens, not adding anything, but simply letting you vent. beginning to piece together your mood from earlier. “I don’t have any jobs lined up right now, which is what Ive been waiting for, to work on my own stuff, yknow? I haven’t had the time ive wanted to make something for myself for a while. But now I just feel, I feel like ive been frozen.”

“things seem to be okay right now. I like what youve made. ” you look down and see the scribbles youve made with your paint. hands clasped over a broken heart. you shrug and smile softly, signing the bottom.

“Just a scribble, you can have it if you want.” You hand the paper over to him. “thank you for coming by, its… its nice being around you. Helps a bit.”

Joost takes the paper and studies it for a second. “I really like it, maybe I should come by more often.”

“If you bring the food we can have art nights whenever you want.” he holds up his paper. The blue bleeding into your skintone and hair since he didn’t wait for anything to properly dry. “I might stick to my ipad though, I don’t know why you like this paint.” he scrunches his nose at it. you laugh and it makes him smile.

You notice for the first time how bright his eyes look when he smiles, but you brush the thought away.

-

“Feeling a bit better?” he asks as he lingers by the door on his way out.

“a bit. like I said It was just a mood, I was gonna be fine tomorrow most likely… I still appreciate you coming over.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to call or text okay? Im always here to talk if you need. or just to listen.”

“definitely. Ive been meaning to uh, talk to someone about all this stuff anyway, you’re not a professional but ill keep it in mind.”

he grins and goes in for one last hug. you feel him slightly squeeze you and linger a little longer than usual before letting go. With one last glance he waves and head off. You see him pull out a cigarette for the walk back. It takes you a second to close the door. standing there watching him walk off until he turns a corner and disappears. Closing the door you sigh and go the clean up your living room.

You notice he left the portrait he drew of you. signed at the bottom with a smiley face next to his name.

It gets hung up in your studio above your desk.

[harmonictechnicality]

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. 

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one. 

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender. 

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers. 

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.” 

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.”  Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days. 

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating. 

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky. 

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes. 

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head. 

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer. 

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line. 

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused. 

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it. 

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.”  Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat. 

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching. 

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest. 

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body. 

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question. 

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him. 

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

[cinnbar-bun]

One Piece Characters w/ an S/O who celebrates Ramadan

Characters: Luffy, Sanji, Crocodile, Robin

Rating: SFW

Notes: Muslim!GN!Reader. So yeah, obvy talking about religious beliefs and practices- if those make you uncomfortable please feel free to skip <3

A/n: this is for me and the three other Muslim OP fans here just vibing 😂 cultural notes at the bottom in case you didn't know/just curious about some of the terms here.

Luffy 

Absolutely does not get it, I think he has a heart attack hearing the words “no food or water” and does not listen to anything else after. 

“WHY CANT WE EAAAAT??? WHAT????” 

Blows his mind you would do this… he’s trying his best, poor guy <3

I GOTTA STRESS HE IS TRYING- HE WANTS TO DO THIS WITH YOU 

But you know, he’s Luffy, so that means after an hour or two he gives up and just raids the kitchen. 

Task failed but you know he’ll always stay up late for iftar and wake up early for suhur. 

Sanji 

He at first thought you were trying to- god forbid- starve yourself or diet and nearly screamed. 

When you explain the reasoning, he’s touched and wants to support you! So that means he’s absolutely doing everything he can to make sure you’re hydrated and getting all the nutrients you can get whenever you can. 

He makes you a completely separate dish from the others while you’re working or resting (so your food is fresh and ready when you break your fast!). 

Self-indulgent thought he’s so so so on top of things when it comes to your meals in general, he will never put wine or meat in your meals, and he makes to sure clean the area and use separate pans for when he cooks your meals. Absolutely refuses to give you anything that goes against your beliefs (I need him in my life). 

Please, he’s buying you dates and getting up with you to make sure you’re drinking plenty of water and eating right. Sleep schedule be damned, he’s not messing around with your health!!!!

Crocodile 

Now, he’s one of the few who actually knows what Ramadan is- he’s made Alabasta his “home” for a while and has participated in many celebrations or events to keep up appearances.

He kinda just humors you at first like “yeah, yeah, go be spiritual or whatever” and chuckles at you with that sexy voice of his. 

But he sees how dedicated you are, maybe sees you reading or praying and okay… his heart kinda melts. He’s never really believed in such things, not finding it useful for him, but seeing you just kinda makes him curious. 

Easily can fast alongside you, he just doesn’t make a big deal of it and insists that it’s simply due to him ‘not feeling hungry’ or ‘finding it boring to eat alone’ (sure, sure you big tsun). 

Makes sure your chefs are giving you only the best and freshest foods possible- he’s especially harsh about the food when it comes to Ramadan. 

I’m trying so hard not to inject my MENA!Croc addled brain into this piece so so hard I AM TRYING OKAY GUYS 

But can you imagine him going to the mosque with you or listening to you discuss or read the Quran and he’s just playing it cool but his eyes are so drawn to you and he wonders if you’re an angel and that he really, really does not deserve someone like you because he’s done so many bad things and wheeeeeeze-

Robin 

She’s an elegant and refined woman, one who will 100% want to be involved in your traditions. 

She finds your beliefs fascinating and takes it upon herself to join you in your Ramadan. 

It took her a bit of getting used to, but after a few days, it quickly grew on her. 

Robin likes having tea with you during suhur, alongside a few fresh fruits Sanji had gotten. Light meals are best for her and she prefers to enjoy your company and take it easy before the dawn. 

She likes to keep track of the days and times of when you two begin and break your fasts- she’ll make sure to keep note of the Shawwal moon so you two (and the rest of the crew) can celebrate the Eid together!

Since it’s a time of reflection, Robin decides to sit quietly and talk about her feelings and experiences with you. She did have some reservations and guilt that she was too “demonic” to celebrate this with you, but through your encouragement, she felt better and continued it alongside you. 

Oh, she loves getting the henna done, too. She makes sure to have lots of flowers on her arms and is in love with the patterns.

Cultural Notes: 

Ramadan is the 9th month of the Islamic calendar, which is based on the lunar cycle- hence why you’ll often see debates on when Ramadan starts/ends or why it begins about a week or two earlier than before, since the lunar calendar is shorter than the solar calendar (or Gregorian, the one we normally use). 

Muslims fast for a month from dawn until sunset (there are restrictions of course) so no water or food from that time. 

Sahur/Suhur/Suhoor: the meal you eat before the dawn comes. 

Iftar: the meal you eat to break your fast at sunset. 

Shawwal is the 10th month of the Islamic calendar, so Ramadan ends when you see the Shawwal moon that starts a new month. 

Eid: the big celebration that marks the end of Ramadan. Usually you go do a special prayer or have a big gathering with your family and enjoy yourselves.

[feybarn]

I'm not going in any specific order, just in the order in which these prompts nudge at me. This one is from @bolithesenate. Not entirely sure this is what you were imagining... the crime got replaced by Dooku being... Dooku-y and judgmental. It also got a little longer than planned... But I kind of want to play with Komari and Obi-Wan some more... so maybe???

*tosses Komari & Obi or Rael & Obi as Master-Padawan pairs here and runs away real quick*. I just like imagining the total chaos these would bring. Especially the Komari & Obi,,,, what crimes would they commit.

Yan stared down at the tiny thing—an initiate in pristine white tunics, staring up at him with wide, guileless eyes—in front of him. “What is this, Komari?” he asked, edging away.

“My new padawan,” his apprentice informed him, tone nearly belligerent.

Yan sent her his most censuring look, but Komari didn’t quail or retreat. Instead her jaw jutted out in sheer obstinance. It was… unusual. Komari had always been nearly desperate to keep him happy with her, but in this moment, such thoughts seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.

“You are a padawan,” he informed her. “And still several years away from your knighting.” He glanced back at the—oh Force—child, who was still watching him silently, those wide eyes making Yan entirely uncomfortable.

“Well, he will be my padawan,” Komari informed him, not even the slightest bit deterred. “His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I found him and a padawan crawling through the air ducts trying to get into the kitchens.” She sounded disgustingly proud. “I’m going to teach him how to do it better.”

Yan wanted to know what, exactly, Komari had been doing investigating the air ducts, but decided that was a lesser concern at the moment. “And where is this other initiate?”

“Quinlan’s a padawan, Master Dooku,” the initiate corrected him. “Master Tholme took him on as soon as he turned ten.”

Tholme. Tholme was from Qui-Gon’s creche clan, he remembered. A Shadow. Yan had heard that he’d taken on some sort of rapscallion apprentice, but he hadn’t had a reason to be introduced. “And how old are you?” Yan asked the initiate.

The initiate shifted on his feet a little. No sense of confidence, Yan diagnosed. They’d have to do something about that. 

Force, no, there would be no doing something about anything. Because this was not Komari’s future padawan. 

“Eight,” the initiate told him.

Five years until the child was thirteen. It was possible that Komari would be knighted by then. But highly unlikely.

Yan narrowed his eyes at the child, who didn’t look away. Perhaps he didn’t lack confidence entirely; Yan was aware that many of the younger generations considered him… intimidating. An impression he had done nothing to try to alleviate.

“Well, Initiate Kenobi, I’m afraid that Komari is mistaken. She will be returning you to the Initiate Quarters immediately.” He turned his gaze on Komari, making certain that it was perfectly clear that he would not take her insubordination on this matter.

Komari glared at him, but wrapped an arm around the Initiate’s shoulders. “Come on, Obi-Wan. I’ll take you back to the Initiate Quarters. For now.”

Yan shook his head as she left with the initiate in tow.

Her future padawan indeed. Yan thought not.

5 years later

“Where is Knight Vosa?” Yan asked, searching through the ranks of Jedi. Galidraan’s air was cold against his skin where his robes did not protect him. They were preparing to approach the Mandalorian encampment with orders to surrender, but he could not find his former apprentice.

Knight Thriff winced. “Uh, the padawan said something about a bad feeling?” Thriff said. “Knight Vosa decided they needed to investigate. They left before dawn. No one knows where they went.”

Yan had not expected for Komari to be knighted so soon, but finding Initiate Kenobi five years ago had lit a fire inside of her that he hadn’t been able to temper. She’d been determined to be knighted in time to take Initiate Kenobi on.

She had dedicated herself so entirely to her training that Yan had run out of reasons to keep from Knighting her three months before the boy’s thirteenth birthday. She had arrived at the Council Chamber the day after her knighting with Kenobi in tow and the first bead already picked out for his braid.

The council had agreed unanimously to allow the partnership, despite Yan’s own concerns on the matter. Mace had actually gone so far as to tell him that the shatterpoint between the two of them was bright and beautiful and that Mace expected great things from them.

He had not wanted her to bring her new padawan with them to potentially fight Mandalorians. But Komari had been adamant that she wasn’t leaving him behind at the temple.

His comlink chimed.

He pulled it from his utility belt. “Master Dooku,” he answered curtly. 

“Master.” That was Komari’s voice. “There’s a second encampment of Mandalorians in the southern quarter to blame for the death of the civilians in this quarter,” she informed him. “Death Watch.”

“How do you know this?” he asked, surprised. “We had no intel—“

“Well, Obi-Wan and I found the intel,” Komari said. “I’ve left Obi-Wan with the True Mandalorians—“

Horror filled him. “You what?”

“—Fett and I are investigating this second encampment. I’ve negotiated a temporary truce between our group and his.”

”You—“

“See you soon, Master.” The comm call cut out.

Yan felt the wind curl around him as it blew. He was not sure whether it was that or the sense that Komari was falling further and further from his reach that sent the chill down his back.

“Your Master is going to be okay,” Mand’alor Fett comforted a shaking Padawan Kenobi where the boy hovered over Komari’s sleeping form. Yan stood a few steps away, staring down at his unconscious former padawan, bacta patches over her side where a slug thrower had ripped into her.

Yan knew that it was likely his responsibility to comfort his grandpadawan, but he had never been good at comforting. Nor could he bring himself to do so when it was, in many ways, young Padawan Kenobi’s fault that Komari had been hurt.

If she had just listened to Yan and left the boy at the temple… But no, the boy had run into the battle against Death Watch despite orders to stay out of it.

“She’s a fighter,” Fett continued.

“It’s my fault. I should have stayed out, like she told me, too,” Kenobi whispered.

“You should have,” Fett agreed, not bothering to soften that blow. “Kyr’tsad isn’t the place for an ad, but you saved Myles’ and Alena’s lives. We won’t forget that.” Fett rested a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “You were trying to protect people, your Master is going to be proud of you for that.” He stood from his kneeling position. “Come on, I told Vosa that I’d keep you safe until you were off planet. Let’s see what we can do about teaching you to use a blaster in the time we have left.”

Yan watched as Fett led a reluctant Padawan Kenobi away. Yan looked down at his former apprentice. He remembered when she had been entirely devoted to him. But that hadn’t been the case in nearly five years. Now her devotion lay elsewhere. Yan had never thought he’d yearn for those days. But at least then, she’d have listened to his words of caution.

Still, perhaps she would listen now, when he cautioned her about her padawan.

If the two of them were not careful, they would stain the legacy of their lineage.

10 years later

“You trained her well,” his Master said, voice low and cruel. “Perhaps, too well.”

“She is a credit to my lineage,” Yan said, keeping his voice even. He hadn’t been pleased when Komari had been chosen to go to Naboo to spring the trap that his master had set. It could be no coincidence that it was one of his own apprentices sent. He knew that his Master was attempting to ensure that his ties to the Jedi be more… permanently cut.

A sickening part of him had just been grateful that it hadn’t been Qui-Gon that had been sent. Qui-Gon who, when he was honest with himself, he could acknowledge as loving most. But then, if Qui-Gon had been sent, then perhaps his Master would not be quite so displeased with him. Qui-Gon had always been something of a maverick, but a maverick who could be depended on to follow certain expectations.

Qui-Gon would have removed the Queen from the planet, would have gotten her to Coruscant to plead her case.

Komari and her padawan had never been quite so predictable. Galidraan had been the start, but not the end, of disobeyed orders and unsavory partnerships. Yan had fought constantly with the horror that could not quite stop the pride he felt when Komari and Obi-Wan became known as the team to send before the boy had even turned seventeen.

Perhaps Yan should have known that Komari and Obi-Wan would have ruined his Master’s plans now. But, neither he nor his Master had expected for Komari and Obi-Wan to join forces with the Queen, her handmaidens, and a force of Mandalorians to take the planet back.

Yan wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten word out to the Mandalorians that they required aid. But then, his former apprentice and her apprentice had always been remarkably capable and entirely unorthodox.

He had tried to caution Komari against maintaining the friendship she had built with Jango Fett ten years ago on Galidraan, but she had retained it regardless. Had done worse and encouraged an impressionable young Obi-Wan’s own friendships with the two Mandalorians he had saved on that Galidraan battlefield.

The fruits of that relationship had borne out now. Naboo relieved from their blockade before his Master could use the circumstance to gain the power he desired and his Master’s more brutish apprentice—Darth Maul—captured and contained.

“A credit to your lineage,” his Master repeated, disgust cool beneath the words. “There will be consequences to this setback, Tyrannous.”

“I understand,” Yan said evenly. He steeled his heart. He knew what this would require

He had lost Komari fifteen years ago, when she had arrived in his quarters with an eight year old initiate with wide, guileless eyes. It had been a gradual loss. That his new Master sought to make it permanent… Yan had made his choice.

But perhaps…

Yan did not allow his new Master to see the small kernel of hope that burned in his chest that maybe his former apprentice would subvert his expectations in this, just as she had in everything else since that day fifteen years ago.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

To Build Something Else

Whenever I read a fanfiction that takes place in the future where the hero kids continue their schooling as normal and emerge as pro heroes into the existing system, I always kinda view it as like, “AU where things weren’t as bad” or “AU where everyone is still pretending that this is the way things should be” or “AU where good and evil are morally uncomplicated.” I’m not trying to call anybody out—I’ll still read and enjoy these sometimes—but that’s how I’ve always looked at it. I’m starting to notice other people feeling it too. I’ve read fics where they point out how redundant and unfair it is to go back to being students after saving the world (remember how many pros straight up quit and left a bunch of kids to keep fighting?). I’ve seen people acknowledge how trauma will affect their ability to keep going. Perhaps the trickiest thing to wrap our heads around is how the villains will fit into it all if not through death, punishment, or imprisonment. What about all the other trappings of society? The heavily regulated quirk use, the government-funded pros aiding police control and contributing to cover-ups that maintain the illusion of peace. Hero idolization, quirk counseling, civilian helplessness. Judging a person’s worth or character based on their quirk…

It would sound too obvious and cheesy to simply point out that society isn’t “just the way things are,” that change is possible. We all know this, and yet we struggle to pinpoint exactly where to aim our sights, find the source, make any meaningful progress. The other day I read some articles from my university’s student newspaper around 1970, and it made me feel sick wondering if progress is really an illusion. Fact is, it’s easy to intellectually deconstruct society, but very difficult to imagine how to build something else.

In this fictional world, heroes have offered a mythical vision of safety and triumph. When All Might arrived, everything was going to be okay. But let’s not forget how this story began: with a moment where All Might paused, like a bystander, and in his place, a desperate civilian kid hurtled forward without any common sense. If you ask me, it wasn’t that Izuku was so good and pure and selfless, it was that he disregarded everything.

And so the person who “saves the world” (if we can even reduce it to such a concept) is not the person who puts everyone at ease and makes crowds cheer. It’s the person who makes everyone hold their breath, with a feeling in the air like the pressure changed, and it smells like rain. It is natural to be worried about the future. It’s honest. It means you can see what’s really going on. Hero society has never felt this exposed, but the people are held back from the edge of despair because there is also so much potential brewing. Electricity about to strike. The world will NOT go back to the way it was, no matter what. That much is certain. But what if we still live to see the dawn? What then? What if one person’s courage to break the mold makes all the difference?

I’m not just talking about Izuku, you know. I’m talking about Horikoshi.

To an extent, I’ve given up on predicting how exactly things will play out, because if nothing else, I can tell he’s planning something big—so big, I can’t quite picture it. I’m watching and waiting for the one person who can. I just know where he’s coming from. I think about how he’s never come this far before because his other stories were snuffed out. I know he used to struggle to see the future of his career. I relate to his stubbornly rebellious resolve to do what he wants anyway. To keep dreaming. I know that emotional sincerity is his specialty. And now he’s even directly breaking the fourth wall, having characters talk about what’s supposed to happen in comic books. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, we’ve been shown how something else can happen. He’s not done yet.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Boyfriend

Written for @hinnymicrofic November 2023 - Prompt 1

So this didn't go in quite the direction I thought it would, and ended up being a bit less micro than I expected. Hopefully the Hinny isn't too tangential!

It was late by the time Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor dormitory. This had nothing at all to do with his desire to avoid both Ron and Dean, and everything to do with spending as much time with Ginny as physically possible - but he couldn’t deny it was a very happy side effect.

He took a moment to make sure his shirt was properly buttoned again, and tried to flatten his hair in a futile attempt to make it look like he hadn’t spent the past however-many-hours with Ginny in a variety of locations around the school grounds resolutely not discussing the Ravenclaw match. 

In the distance, he heard a door open, followed by a chorus of high-pitched squeals that cut off sharply as the door closed again. Clearly Ginny had reached her own dormitory. A soppy grin spread over his face as he thought of her again, no longer needing to imagine the taste of her lips, or the feel of her body pressed close to his. Unfortunately, this thought ensured that he needed to take a few more moments to compose himself before heading into his own dormitory.

When he finally pushed open the door, it was to discover that there was both good news and bad news. The good news was that Neville was already fast asleep, and (even better) neither Dean nor Seamus was there. Quite where they were given it was now well past curfew was a problem for someone else - Harry was perfectly happy to take the win. 

The bad news was that Ron was very definitely there, and even more definitely awake. He was lying on his bed, fully clothed, hands behind his head, trying (Harry thought) very hard to look nonchalant. 

Ron acknowledged his arrival with a nod. “Evening.”

“Evening,” replied Harry. He paused momentarily, then tried just as hard to look nonchalant as he strolled over to his own bed, and opened his truck to put his cloak back inside. Maybe, he hoped against hope, Ron wasn’t going to say anything else.

“So,” said Ron. 

Fuck, thought Harry.

“You and Ginny.”

“Uh huh. Me and Ginny,” replied Harry, hoping that his tone was as light and non-committal as he intended.

“You’re her boyfriend now, then?” asked Ron. 

Ron sounded conversational. Unconcerned. Calm. Harry was not fooled, not for one second. He shrugged awkwardly. He closed his trunk, then took as long as humanly possible to locate his pyjamas under his pillow. “Umm. Yeah. I guess so.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know so?” he asked, sharply.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Uh - no, I am,” he scrambled. “I definitely am.”

Ron cocked his head to one side. “Huh.”

Silence. Merciful silence. So why, Harry thought, was he suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to fill it? He fought it as hard as he could but ultimately, failed dismally.

“I mean, I asked her, officially, if that was what she wanted. And she said yes. So… Yeah, I’m her boyfriend. And… I really like her. I have done for ages. I… I’m not just messing about.”

More silence. Ron nodded thoughtfully. 

“So are we… y’know, are we still good?” asked Harry, hopefully.

Ron gave him a hard stare. “Well that depends, doesn’t it?”

Harry swallowed hard. “It does?” 

Ron’s brows wrinkled. “Yeah. Obviously.” 

“Umm… what on?”

Ron looked at him as if he was exceptionally dim. “Harry, come on! She’s my sister! There are rules!”

Harry felt his heart sinking. This was the exact thing that he’d been afraid of, that had held him back for so long. And just when everything seemed to be falling into place. “There are?”

“Yeah. Rules,” confirmed Ron.

Harry couldn’t help himself. It was like he could see the headlights of the approaching lorry, and he just couldn’t seem to get out of the way. “And the rules would be….?”

Ron sighed. “Okay, if you’re going to make me spell it out for you.” He held up his hand, fingers splayed, ready to count them off. “Firstly, you don’t hurt her. Ever. In any way.”

Well that one was straightforward enough. “Got it.” 

“Secondly,” counted Ron, “whatever it was that I saw in the common room before, I don’t want to see that ever again.”

Well, that one might be a touch trickier, but he was sure they could be discreet. “Er… Okay?”

“Thirdly,” continued Ron, pointing at his middle finger, “you have to escort her to and from all her classes, carry her bag and her books, serve her at mealtimes, give her your coat if she’s cold, do any shopping she needs. You know, just generally look after her properly.”

Harry frowned. That sounded a bit full on, but even then, it wasn’t so much that he wouldn’t do it, more that he couldn't imagine Ginny letting him. “Er, Ron?” he began.

But Ron wasn’t listening. “Fourthly, you can’t be alone with her at any time. You need a chaperone, permanently.”

Harry blinked, hard. How on earth did Ron think that could possibly ever work? “What? Ron, I don’t think…” he protested.

Ron just ignored him. “Fifthly, you don’t touch her. Ever. Anywhere. I’ll let you off with the common room thing because we hadn’t talked, but you can’t lay another hand on her. Or any other bit of you, for that matter.”

And at that point, Harry decided he’d had enough. “Oh come on, Ron! This is ridiculous! You can’t really expect…” he began, hotly.

But before he could continue, a horrible strangled noise came from Neville’s bed, making him jump. He jerked his head towards the sound, then realised that Neville was shaking violently under his blankets.

“Oh my god, Ron! I think he’s having a fit!” Harry dashed to Neville’s side, visions of Ron convulsing in Slughorn’s study flashing through his head. Where was he going to get a bezoar this time? 

Harry pulled back Neville’s blanket and rolled his friend onto his back. Neville’s face was bright red and screwed up as though he was in pain. Except wait - no, that wasn’t pain, was it? It was… hang on, was it laughter? 

Utterly confused, Harry turned to look at Ron, to find that he, too, was now laughing so hard he was practically doubled up with it.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” gasped Neville. “I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. That was brilliant! I don’t know how you kept a straight face.”

“Oh, Harry - your face! It was priceless!” said Ron, tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t worry, Neville. I was running out of fingers anyway.”

“You mean… all those rules? You were making them up?” Harry couldn’t decide whether he was furious or relieved.

“We were talking while you were out, about how far Ron thought he could push you,” confessed Neville.

“Well, you just snogged my sister in front of pretty much everyone,” agreed Ron. “I reckoned I deserved a bit of payback.”

“So you’re not pissed off with me?” Harry checked. 

Ron shook his head. “Nah. If you’re nuts enough to actually willingly go out with Ginny, I reckon that’s punishment enough.” Then he looked thoughtful. “Though I really would appreciate you keeping the snogging to a minimum while I’m around.”

Finally, relief won out, and Harry’s face split into a grin of his own. “Deal.”

[bomber-grl]

BOMBER THEY I COME BARING A REQUEST!! PLX BARE WITH ME THO I SUCK AT CORRECTLY FORMATTING THESE🙏🏻 Hiro hamada x gn! Reader hcs/comfort were the readers older brother just sucks n they hate him? Like he gets mad easily, really loud when mad,plays victim n undermines readers issues/achievements bcs their younger? (If the brother could also be a grown adult kinda like tadashi you'll have my soul 🙇🏻🙇🏻)

IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS AGAINST THE RULE WERE IT SAYS IT CANT BE SO DETAILED I'M SORRY!!!I tried my best to keep it as simple as possible (especially considering this is based on my own brother 😞😞) if it is against the rules im so sorry and feel free to ignore it !! TY for ur time n don't forget to drink water !!🙇🏻🙇🏻

Hiro Hamada x Reader with a terrible brother

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

A/N: Sorry if the title is too blunt, but that’s my take away from your ask and I’m rlly sorry u have a brother like that 😞💔

When Hiro first hears about your older brother and what he’s done it’s most likely a watered down version

Maybe you two were hanging out and you began to rant about how he’s trash and that’s all Hiro knew

But then he finds out how bad the reality is- it’s when you sneak into his room through his window using some gadgets

It’s in the middle of the night and you explain briefly what had occurred

An argument as usual had ensued and your brother was overly loud and brought up how you overact with your issues

This really surprises Hiro but he tries his best to comfort you

Especially since this time your delved deeper into what was going on and what your relationship with your brother truly is

Depending on how you are- he’d sneak down and get snacks, water, play games or watch a movie

Either way, the night ends with you two snuggled under the covers

Hiros usually flustered nature disappears at the sight of you being upset and genuinely hurt over a recurring situation

The night is quiet and the discussion sticks to a few words

However, the next morning you two wake up and head downstairs

obviously Cass is like 🤨

But she’s nicer obviously and decides to give you both some breakfast

I could also see her sending something wrong and so she lets it go but there will most definitely be a discussion later

Then you’re off to wherever you are

It’s the weekend and Hiro knows you’d want to take your mind off your brother

This was the first day of many that Hiro would do to try and cheer you up

Overall, he’s pretty protective and heavily dislikes your brother

Which is an understatement considering you hate him

And honestly? At first Hiro was shocked

He’s the same age that tadashi would’ve been and he could never imagine tadashi being anything but his wonderful self

The thought alone messes with Hiro and he truly begins to empathize with you

Knowing that your achievements are undermined just because you’re younger is insane to him

Tadashi was the complete opposite and would always push for Hiro to improve

He’s the reason Hiro even bothered going to his “nerd school”

He really wishes you could’ve experienced what it was like to have tadashi as an older brother but we’re in the now so he decides to just be there

Whether it’s letting you stay over or bringing you stuff

He tried his best

As well as Cass, eventually the two of you have to explain and she’s more than ok wiht you staying over

Of course with ground rules but they’re easy to follow

Even as his hero persona he’s more than protective and sure he has to help people regardless of

But if he ever runs into your brother, best believe he’s having Baymax fly like 1000 feet into the air and be like “oh sorry it was necessary “

And just be a bitch in total but it’s justified

Might be an over exaggeration but let’s be real

Hiro gets real protective over those he loves and you’re no exception

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight: Tiana

summary: nathan does his best to support you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader, f!reader’s mother (Tiana)

contents: this entire series is 18+, sick parent, parent death, grief, panic attacks, existential crisis, support!nathan

wc: 1,360

an: this one is a bit heavy so do heed the warnings. we also jump around in the timeline so it is important to have read previous parts or it won’t make much sense. be gentle with yourselves on this one

in plain sight masterlist | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

3 Weeks before To Atomize*

The day you told your mother about Nathan was one of her last good days. Many, many bad days came after. Celia— her nurse— sent you the usual report before you left to go home. It said that your mother had slept most of the day and gotten a burst of energy.

When you got home that day, she was propped up, watching some soap opera with mild interest. Seeing her genuine smile when you walked through the door had made your heart flutter.

You made her favorite tea, and brought a book to read though you really had wanted to talk to her, not at her. With working, taking care of your sisters, and her health you found that you didn’t get to do that much anymore. Talk with your mother, hearing her thoughts and opinions, her praises and suggestions. Feeling her intentional love. You crave it.

“Have you told your sisters?”

“No— I will. I wanted to tell you first.”

Her brows raise and teasingly she murmurs, “You’re serious about him.”

“I am,” You say through a laugh.

Her smile is so warm, like the sun, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You love him.”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you could?”

“I could.”

“Don’t be afraid to.”

“That’s easier said than done, mama.”

She sighs patiently, shifting more on her side so that she can look directly at you, “Does he love you?”

You grow warm under her serious gaze. You don’t particularly like thinking about Nathan feeling more deeply for you. He’s assured you that he’s in this for the long haul— that he’s ‘spoken for’ but words and actions are very different things. He hasn’t done anything to show he words aren’t true…yet. “I think so. He acts like it.”

“Then let him.”

“Mama—“

“When you find a man that treats you the way you’re meant to be treated, you can’t be scared, darling.”

“But it’s scary.”

“You’ve done so many scary things in your life. You’ve watched my health fluctuate with a brave face. You’ve raised those girls out there. And now you’re on the cusp of falling in love. A beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. Everything will work out how it’s meant to.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Isn’t that more reason to grasp it while you can?”

“I don’t know mama, this is all so existential.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, mama.”

“Promise me you won’t waste the time. If you want him, if you love him, then don’t waste any time. When the time comes, let yourself as openly and honestly as you possible can. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

—

Present Day (5 months after Family Dinner)

“Honey?”

Nathan’s voice pulls you out of the haze that you seem to always be slipping into now that your mother is gone. It’s hard, not wanting to escape into memories so that it feels like she’s here.

You give him a wane smile, “Hey.”

“I’ve been calling you,” He says softly, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You sigh, shaking your head a little as if that’ll clear the fog, a task that you imagine will take years. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s alright,” He assures you, draping an arm behind you on the couch. His brows are pinched with worry— an emotion you’re still trying to get used to seeing on his face.

You sit up on the edge of the couch abruptly, looking around. Where’s your phone? Your laptop? “Wait, what time is it?”

“Almost 4.”

“I wasted my entire day here?”

“You didn’t waste it. You said you wanted some space, I gave it to you.”

“But this is the only day of the week that I stay this long anymore. You didn’t have to give me that much space.”

“There’s next week and the week after that…and the week after that. I could keep going but I hope you’re understanding our situation here,” He teases gently, running his hand over your back.

You lean out of his comforting touch, feeling guilty. “It’s not, I should be cherishing my time with you. Who knows when—“

He cuts you off immediately. He’s had this conversation with you multiple times since your mother’s passing. He doesn’t want you to focus on him— but on yourself and your sisters, on getting you all through this. “Hey, uh uh, don’t do that. Don’t go there.”

You’re already there. You’ve been there for weeks now. All you can think about is life slipping out of your grasp. Of not having the words or the feelings to make the time dwindling in front of you feel like it's enough. Your chest feels tight, and you scoot further away from him trying to keep yourself centered. Its futile attempt, everything’s all out of whack, you can’t find your balance, your emotions sway and crash around you unpredictably like the waves of a seastorm.

“But, it’s true. I could lose you today or tomorrow. I could lose you right now, you could have some fucked up brain vessel or something. You could choke o-or fall o-or– and Philippa, Emma–”

He cups your hands in his chest, brown eyes soft and desperate as he tries to calm you down. “Honey. I need you to take it down a notch and breathe, you’re gonna give yourself a panic attack.”

“I don’t— I can’t—“ You gulp frantically, feeling your breath grow shallow.

“She was sick,” He whispers, pulling you flush to his chest. “She was sick, sweetheart, there was nothing to be done. I’m healthy, I’m here— so are your sisters. We can get them check ups every month, get them checked out by oncologists as much as you want. Whatever you need to make you feel alright.”

“I feel like I’m going insane. How can having less to do and worry about make me insane?” You say through tears.

Nathan hates seeing you like this. He’s never hated anything more than seeing you in pain. He wishes he could take it away— he would do anything, pay any amount of money, invent any program if it meant that you could have some reprieve.

“Stop. You’re not insane, you’re grieving. Studies say there’s no right way— trust me I’ve looked high and fucking low for a methodology— but you’ve gotta take it as it comes, sweetheart. I’ll be here, right beside you the whole time.”

You’re quiet for a long time, letting Nathan hold you. He rocks you side to side, brushing soft, tickling kisses across your temple and forehead. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, allowing your breathing to mimic his own. He’s warm and solid against you. He’s right here. Living and breathing and talking right beside you. He’s right here.

Finally you say, “I don’t want to take it as it comes. I want to feel okay again.”

“If I could make it so baby, I would,” He whispers, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry. Thank you Nathan.”

He cups your face, guiding your gaze to his own– its unyielding and firm. No nonsense. “You don’t apologize to me, alright? Ever.

He’s been more like that since your mom’s passing. More directive and firm, guiding and caring for you in ways that were necessary before. It’s exactly what you need right now. And sometimes, it has those butterflies settling in your stomach and heat simmering in your veins.

You refocus on him where your gaze had gone a little blurry. “Not even if I accidentally knee you in the nuts?”

Nathan pretends to consider your ridiculous question. “I shouldn’t have had my nuts where your knees are.”

“You may be the closest specimen to a perfect man.”

“I mean it honey, don’t apologize to me for this. I won’t accept it and I’ll yell you every single time.”

You raise a brow at him, “Yell?”

“Yell.”

“You’ve never yelled at me, not even when you were just my boss.”

“Maybe I’m exaggerating,” He allows, grinning at you mischievously.

“You are.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Trying to keep me guessing?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, and then another and another, addicted. “Always, baby.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

[a-mel0n]

This stupid "Your Name" Bucktommy AU won't leave my brain, and while I don't have enough faith in my writing skills to actually write the damn thing (and it would be my first fanfic... ever?? and that's a project that seems a bit too big for me lmao), I DID write down what I'm picturing some of the "rules" Buck and Tommy have for each other while in the other's body. Mostly just for fun. (Because Tommy would be switching in 2006, the iPhone does not exist yet, so all of his notes are written in an actual physical journal. All of Buck's notes would be on the Notes app of his phone)

TOMMY: 1) Evan, stop running into burning buildings when you don’t have to while in my body. If I wake up in a hospital bed for the fifth time this month, I might actually lose it.

its part of the job to save as many ppl as possible. also u don’t even feel the pain when i get injured in ur body.

You’re right, I don’t. Unfortunately, the pain from having a wooden beam fall on you doesn't just magically go away when we swap. Just... be more careful? Please?

fine. i’ll try and keep ur hospital visits to a minimum.

2) Can you stop flirting with people on calls? Or at the very least give them your number and not mine? In the last week alone my contact list has nearly doubled because you keep giving people my number. 

dude its not my fault you’re more popular while i’m you. just think of it as me being ur wingman! how u dont have a girlfriend is beyond me btw. hot chicks love firefighters and ur a good looking dude

Jesus Christ, Evan. For the last time, I’m single by choice.

3) Don’t shower while in my body

already dont

4) Don’t go to the bathroom while in my body 

done

5) In fact, unless you’re at work, don’t change any of my clothes while in my body. 

fair

6) Do you really need to spend so much of my paychecks on cooking supplies? I have enough pots and pans already. 

whats the point of a pantry if its half empty. be thankful ur getting actual food now via my leftovers instead of the utter tragedy that was the state of ur fridge when we first started swapping places.

7) Don’t make a scene while at work. 

your boss sucks ass and his stupid orders are going to get people killed. im not gonna listen to him if hes making bad calls while lives are on the line

Evan.

8) Don’t pick up the phone when my dad calls.

got it

BUCK: 1) quit going to eddie’s basketball pickup games. he keeps inviting me while i’m in my own body and its getting harder and harder to come up with excuses as to why i can’t go. it's kinda awkward.

I thought you’d be more grateful, Evan. You’re the coolest guy on the court when I’m you. 

2) are you making movie references when ur me? bc chim keeps asking when i got so “cultured” and the other day maddie asked when i watched the princess bride. 

You haven’t seen the Princess Bride? I’m leaving you a surprise for tomorrow. Check your couch when you wake up. 

did you spend my OWN money on a dvd??? i don’t even own a dvd player. i own every streaming service imaginable.

3) keep the finger guns to a minimum?? idk why you do them so much but both hen and chim have said smth abt it

4) if u get a call from someone called connor or kameron on my phone just let it go to voicemail its personal stuff and i'll deal with it

Evan, you could have told me you agreed to be a sperm donor yourself. Finding out because Connor and Kameron showed up at the fire house was more of a shock than finding out over these memos would have been. 

they did what?????

5) don’t talk to my parents

Done.

6) No rule about undressing? 

dude idc. i’m not gonna stop you from taking a piss in my body if u need to. as long as you like. don’t have sex with someone while you’re me? oh wait hang on i DO have a rule about undressing

7) DON’T HAVE ANY RANDOM HOOK UPS IN MY BODY. 

Wasn’t planning on it, but good to know. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hiiiii cal!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying writing this way because I love getting to read these snippets - it’s like a bunch of mini cliffhangers that prompt my imagination to go wild and it’s so much fun!! I’ll be sending emojis for as long as you’re wanting them!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(they’re getting a house! And about to get married!!! And i might be misremembering but i don’t think you’ve done a detailed buddie wedding in any of your fics yet? I’m very excited to see how you do it!!)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(the shenanigans and tomfoolery of being bad at hiding a secret relationship… it amuses me so!)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(as i’ve said many times before, my love for this fic goes beyond words!! And you’re venturing into truly riveting territory here i’m so pumped!!)

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮(my heart breaks for babby - my typo for baby bobby and i’m keeping it - my dear sweet babby)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(i can already feel this one becoming my new obsession! Idk why i thought it was going to be something shorter when you first started posting about it but i was thrilled to see that anticipated chapter count on ao3!)

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑(islands in the stream has been stuck in my head all day and i blame you! I’m so looking forward to the madney sweetness!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼(oh my god cal the angst! It’s angsting!)

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐(huge fan of mays crush being named april - it makes me giggle every time)

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(cranberry my baby! And the covidness of it all is so vivid - i’m loving the buck-chris dynamic!)

I never count the amount of emojis i type as i go so i’m always a bit shocked at how many sentences i’ve requested of you when you post the reply 😬 thank you so much for putting up with my crazy requests it brings me such joy!

I hope you have a lovely weekend and week!!

SO AS I WAS FILLING THIS OUT MY FUCKING LAPTOP CRASHED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT HAS TAKEN ME HOURS AND HOURS ACROSS TWO DAYS. FUCK. Let's see if I can find the sentences I wrote again.

For TWATYTK and Zombies, those parts have already been posted, because as I said, this was taking so long. GAH!

I had a whole message typed out about how much I appreciate you. You are so kind! IT'S LOST TO TIME NOW.

I think this was what I had for ⚡️:

---

Their next call is to the scene of a fire. 

This should not be especially eventful, considering that they are firefighters and all. And, for the drive there, it isn’t. The transit process? Just fine. 

It’s the rest that sends Buck into a tailspin. 

He spends the ride seated next to Eddie, thighs touching. They’re back being partnered together. Sadie earned her shield a couple months back, and has been working as Ravi’s partner since. Buck is pretty proud of her - and himself, for training her. He liked working with her a lot. But he’s happy to be back where he belongs, in terms of workplace duos. 

Buck and Eddie - okay, mostly Buck - talk everyone’s ear off about the house for the time it takes them to get to the fire. They should possibly be a little less giddy headed towards an actual three alarm fire, but at that point, Buck thinks his mood simply can’t be shaken. How naive. 

It is perhaps due to this focus on the house, which is nowhere near the direction they’re headed in to get to this fire, that Buck doesn’t realize what is in the direction of the fire. In his defense, neither does anyone else! Not even Eddie! Even Bobby, who knows better where they’re going, doesn’t put the pieces together. 

Maybe it’s because they spend so much time driving around the city. Here and there. Fires and car accidents and medical emergencies everywhere. Everywhere looks familiar! They could all be city tour guides. It’s not like driving through a city where you only know a few places, so the places you know feel like beacons.

Or Buck is just making excuses for his lack of attention. Either way. 

Really, it’s not until they turn onto the street that Buck notices. Though, it’s a long road, and they’re still a few miles out. 

“This is weird,” Buck says. 

“What is?” Sadie asks. She’s sitting across from him. Noticing his sudden onslaught of nerves. 

“We’re on the same street as the wedding venue.”’

That makes Eddie look. He’d been typing a rather long message to his mother and not paying much attention to where they’re going. At Buck’s words, his attention snaps to the window.

“Shit, you’re right.” 

Well, obviously Buck knows he’s right. 

“Bobby,” he asks. “What’s the address of where we’re going?”

“Uh, it is…” Bobby reads. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Buck repeats. He grabs Eddie’s arm. “Oh? Oh, what?”

“Okay, well first let’s remember we don’t know how bad it is yet,” Bobby says, maintaining a steady facade. 

“Bobby, it’s a three-alarm fire!” Buck exclaims, voice raising an octave.

“And the wedding is in days,” Eddie adds, voice wavering with stress. “There’s no time to do any repairs, even if it’s not totally ruined.”

Days. Days. What the fuck are they going to do?

“Okay, let’s not jump to any conclusions. Technically, the address is for the building next door,” Bobby explains. “Everything might be fine.”

Everything is not fine. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

Two minutes after his painstaking revelation, Buck finds himself standing next to his fiancé on the street in front of their wedding venues, watching it plume with smoke. The wind blew the flames from the building next to it, and the roof caught. It won’t fare as badly as the other building, but it certainly won’t be available for their wedding. 

They are getting married.

In three days. 

Their wedding is in three days. 

Their wedding is in three days and has no venue. 

Because their venue is burning right in front of him. 

Their venue was also their caterer, so add that to the fucking fire. 

“Buck! Eddie!” Bobby calls. “Work first, react later!”

Easy for him to say! It’s not his wedding venue! 

“Come on.” Eddie tugs on his turnouts. “We’ve got to go.”

Buck feels like he’s been possessed by a heap of barbed wire. 

He turns his head to Eddie. His eyes are bugged out so wide they might pop from his head. An absurd but sticky thought pops into his head. 

“You jinxed us,” Buck accuses. 

“Buck!” Eddie complains.

---

And 🚨:

---

“Okay, that makes sense. Was it his family?”

Buck nods. “They were religious. Conservative. Southern.”

“I can relate,” Eddie tells him. 

“Eventually, I just wanted to be able to relax, though,” Buck says. “I made him promise we’d do it at the end of the tour. Not to his family. Just, to friends… And in public.”

Eddie’s expression softens as he realizes.

“And then he died.”

“Yeah.” 

And then he died. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie exhales.

Buck shakes his head. His eyes start to sting. 

“It’s stupid, Eddie. I know there’s no logic behind it. It just feels like once something is out loud, it can be taken away.”

Eddie nods, understanding the thought process. 

“We both know I can’t promise you I won’t spontaneously die,” he says. “Especially in a global pandemic.”

“I know,” Buck nods. 

“But, uh…” Eddie sighs. “It’s like you said when I was worried about Chris, right? I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“Prove it to me?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “I’ll just prove that we get to have a life together. Even if we’re both a little bit scared of dying.”

“I’m scared of you dying,” Buck reminds him. 

“Okay, well we’re at an equal risk, so… Not the point, actually. Buck, the point is, I’ll show you every day, alright?” Eddie promises. “We get to have this.”

Buck takes a deep breath. He leans forward in bed and grabs Eddie’s hand. 

“I don’t know if I’d believe anyone else,” he says quietly. 

Eddie shuffles up the mattress, closer to Buck.

“Believe me,” he says. 

“Okay,” Buck relents. “But only because you’re very pretty.”

Eddie smirks. “It’s a gift.”

“Mmm, or a trick.”

Eddie chuckles and kisses his temple, right beside the birthmark. 

“I love you,” he says. “That’s not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. 

He decides to try his best to believe him. 

---

And the 90 sentences I wrote for this damn 🩸:

---

But it does show Buck what she’s up to. 

It kind of makes him mad, actually. Eddie has gone to such intense, devastating lengths to hide himself. Meanwhile, his attacker has been out here, just living life. Posting about walks through the park and her latest baking experiment. How is that fucking fair? 

It’s not. 

It’s not fair. 

And while Buck knows what he has to do isn’t fair either - isn’t right or human or good - he tries to keep that in mind. 

She ruined Eddie’s life. Twice. She didn’t have to do that. Now, what choice does Buck have? 

February 10th, 2025

Eddie does something on Monday that he perhaps should not do. Something the tiniest bit risky. After his call with Adriana, he’s feeling that a bit of risk taking to get his life back where it needs to be is necessary. And anyway, he’s not doing anything illegal. Not doing anything wrong. Nothing he can be arrested for. 

He’s picking his son up from school. 

Chris pauses, exiting Durand School to see Eddie in the driver’s seat of the truck. His eyes widened with nerves for a moment. Eddie felt a rush of guilt. He doesn’t want to make Chris worry. Doesn’t want to cause any undue stress. He just wants to feel like a normal dad again, picking his kid up from school. 

But then Chris breaks out into a wide grin, and Eddie feels his whole body relax. 

“You came!” Chris exclaims, surprised, when he reaches the vehicle. 

Eddie climbs out to help him into the front seat. Not that Chris needs a lot of help anymore. Mostly just someone to hold his crutches and bag. 

“I did,” Eddie confirms. He tries to keep his voice even. 

“You’re not worried?” 

“No,” Eddie says. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m not doing anything I’m not allowed to do.”

Chris thinks about this. “I’m glad you came today.”

“Me too,” Eddie decides. “Do you want to grab ice cream or something on the way home?”

Chris narrows his eyes. “I’m not a little kid, remember?”

“Jeez, I didn’t know ice cream had an age limit,” Eddie frowns. “Buck will be devastated to hear this. You know how seriously he takes his Neapolitan.”

Chris smirks. “Fine. Okay. I want ice cream.”

Eddie grins. “Thought so.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting on a little patio, under the shade of an umbrella. Eddie is in the darkest seat, also covered by sunglasses and a hat. Chris sits in the sunshine, spooning strawberry ice cream from a little paper bowl. 

“So, I wanted to run an idea by you,” Eddie says. 

“Me?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah, you. Who else?”

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “What is it?”

“Well, I think I need to get a job,” Eddie says. 

“But you can’t be a firefighter,” Chris fills in.

“No,” Eddie says. “I don’t think I can.”

“So, then what?” 

“Well, May suggested I look into telehealth services. Like a hotline for medical advice or something,” Eddie says. 

Chris nods. “You’d be good at that.”

“Thank you,” Eddie replies. “But, uh, I did a little research and I think I found something different that suits me even better.”

“What is it?”

“Well, there’s this nonprofit that operates out of Los Angeles looking for people with medical experience. Nurses. Doctors. Paramedics.” 

“Like a charity?” Chris asks. 

“Yeah, but I’d get paid,” Eddie says. “It’s a job. Bringing emergency medical care to people who maybe don’t feel safe to call for help.” 

“Like… You?” Chris whispers the last part. 

“Yeah, but not just like me,” Eddie explains. “All kinds of people. People facing deportation. Homeless people. People who can’t afford an ambulance ride. Stuff like that.”

---

This is easier to count again haha 🔮:

---

Buck wakes up with his cheek pressed into the bannister support poles of Bobby’s apartment stairwell. He can feel their imprint as he woozily pulls his upper body upright. His head is pounding and he feels vaguely nauseous. Almost like he’s been drugged. Though, the comedown when they’d been spiked with LSD had been far more gradual than the sudden, brutal snap back to reality that had been whatever that was. 

Not a coma, he realizes. If he’s sitting in the stairwell to Bobby’s apartment, not a hospital room, then it wasn’t a coma dream. Kind of an insane regular dream, though? And why had he passed out in the first place?

Acutely aware he won’t find any answers here, parked on his ass, Buck pulls himself to his feet. Slowly, and gripping the bannister for support, just in case, he straightens out his body. His legs give a little wobble. 

What the fuck happened to him?

Partway down the stairs, Buck looks up and down. Should he go out to the Jeep and risk driving home? Feeling like this? He supposes he could call Eddie. Eddie would come for him, no questions asked. He knows he could ask Bobby for help, too. No matter what just happened between them. But his brain is battling two contradictory memories; the fight he had with Bobby in the kitchen and the memory he somehow intruded on of Bobby at his father’s funeral. If that was even real. The easy thing to do would be to go downstairs and call Eddie, not deal with any of it. Hold onto the only thing he knows really happened. 

With a sigh, Buck turns and climbs the stairs. Up towards Bobby’s. 

The moment his foot hits the landing on Bobby’s floor, Buck sees the breathless, similarly disoriented face of his captain jogging down the hallway. He looks pale. Hair a little mussed. Half his face is red, like it’s been pressed against something, too. 

---

A bunch for this guy here 🧟:

---

“May is awake and lucid,” she says. “She’s asking for you.”

Athena grabs one of Hen’s hands and squeezes it. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” 

Then she hurries off in the direction of her daughter’s sickroom. 

Hen doesn’t go after her. She waits, lingering, to speak with Bobby. 

“Did you find Michael?” She asks. 

Bobby shakes his head slightly. 

“It looks like he was infected in the initial outbreak or sometime soon after.”

Hen’s shoulder sag. “Damn it. Poor Athena. Poor kids.” 

Bobby nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. Yes. It’s horrendous. Everything is always so horrendous and everyone’s families are always dying. 

“We should ask her to stay,” Hen says quietly. “She’s a friend. We trust her. The kids will be good for Denny.”

Bobby knows they have enough food to stretch to more than just the three of them. Plus, more hands means more potential to harvest more. Fish more. Preserve more. 

“It’s not just my decision,” Bobby says. “We’ll have to discuss it as a group.”

“No, but it’ll go whatever way you want it to go,” Hen says. “You know that.”

He does. 

“I think it’s a good idea, Hen. But I want everyone’s input.” 

“Like you did with the radio?” She asks.

Bobby raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Buck told you?”

“Oh, yes.” She says. “Wanted to get ahead of it, I guess.”

“Do you think I did the wrong thing?” Bobby asks. 

Hen might be the only person he’s willing to ask this of. The only person whose answer he really wants to know. 

“No,” she says. “I don’t think you did the wrong thing. But I’m worried about him anyway.”

“Me too, Hen.” Bobby admits.

He’s always worried about Buck. All the time. Every minute. Even when Buck hasn’t done anything deserving of Buck’s worry. 

One day, Buck is going to finally let himself realize they’re all dead. Maddie. Abby. Every person he knew and loved before this. He’ll realize they’re all gone. And Bobby worries, every moment, that it will destroy him. He worries he won’t find a reason to keep pushing forward.

---

A few here 👑:

---

Chim finally gets a chance to talk to Hen about it, privately, somewhere around four in the morning. They’re in the ambulance, driving back from yet another party gone wrong that resulted in a hospital transport. At least this time no one puked. Just a badly broken ankle from a drunken trampoline adventure. 

“So you forgot to get her number,” Hen says. “Can’t you go back?”

“Stroll up to a gated mansion tomorrow and say, ‘hi, I’m the guy who kissed your daughter while you were trying to set her up with rich hedge fund types?’ I don’t think so, Hen.”

“She’s probably trying to find your information, too,” Hen tries. 

“I hope,” Chim grumbles. 

“And, hey, you’re very findable on social media,” Hen adds. “She won’t have trouble.”

“Should I message her brother?” Chim asks. “Is that crazy? He was nice!”

“Mmm, maybe wait until you’ve slept for all forms of communication,” Hen advises. “She knows you’re at work, anyway. She won’t be expecting to hear from you.”

“Right. Right. You’re so smart. Why are you so smart?”

“I had a nap in the bunk room while you were at the party.”

Damn. Yeah. A nap would make him sharper. 

“So, it’s just a waiting game for now,” Chim sighs. This is not helping with the resounding feeling that he may, in fact, be a complete fool.

“I think so,” Hen agrees. “Sorry, Chim.”

👑👑👑

By some stroke of fate, he’s not waiting very long. 

When they park the ambulance in the engine bay and climb out, sore and tired, Chim is met with the sound of a strangely familiar voice. One he thinks he may just be hallucinating. 

“You’re the captain? That’s so cool!” He hears. “That means you’ve been doing this forever, right? You know a lot about it?”

---

OKAY BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING! THAT IS WHERE MY LAPTOP ABANDONED ME.

30 for 🔼:

---

She accepts the cards she’s been dealt, just like last time. After all, didn’t she shuffle the deck?

She sees her son as much as she can. She goes back to her office admin job as soon as she’s able. She misses Eddie’s shield ceremony. His request. She avoids his parents while they’re in town altogether. Her choice. 

Other than coworkers, she really has no adults to see. Compounded with that, she and Eddie have made the decision not to tell family - even Christopher - until her second trimester. So Shannon finds herself existing in this strange vacuum of silence. Again, one of her own making. But difficult to navigate nonetheless. 

That changes about seven weeks after her accident. Completely unintentionally, she might add. 

None of it was ever a plan in her head. 

She’s been seeing a physical therapist for her shoulder. Her ankle has healed on an intended timeline, not causing her much additional trouble. Her shoulder, on the other hand, has been a source of difficulty. Perhaps with everything else changing in her body, it can’t quite figure itself out. It wouldn’t be the only thing. 

She’s thirteen weeks along now. Almost at that second trimester mark. Almost at the point where not only will they be able to tell people, but they’ll have to. Namely their son. She’s not really showing per say, but she certainly feels bigger and tighter. Her chest is another matter entirely. 

So, to paint the picture, there she is; thirteen weeks pregnant with a man whose trust she shattered, shoulder hardly functional, sitting in the waiting room of her physical therapist in loose sweats and her baggiest tee shirt because nothing fits her boobs properly anymore, and who walks in? Or hobbles in, rather? Her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s best friend. 

---

33 for 💐 (YEAH THANKS I THOUGHT APRIL WAS FUNNY):

---

She orders a wine spritzer. April orders a cider. They sit in a corner booth and for a good few minutes, it’s awkward as hell. Neither of them really seems to know where to start. Which makes sense, because they didn’t exactly have any solid communication foundations to begin with. May is reminded, strangely, of the time Sue left her and Claudette to sort out their issues in the quiet room, right before the fire at Dispatch. Not that she thinks this will end the same way, obviously. 

“Listen,” May starts after the server brings them their drinks. “I’m sorry if I misunderstood things. I really got the sense you didn’t like me.”

April frowns. “I’m not sure how, honestly. I was trying pretty hard to get to know you.” 

“I think I definitely, uh, read things wrong,” May admits. “I’m definitely… Confused about things. But, come on, April. You have to admit, you were acting super competitive with me in class.”

Her brows furrow, hazel eyes giving the impression she’s sifting through memories. 

“Was I that bad?” She asks. 

“Yes,” May insists. “You disagree with everything I say. You compete over grades. When you did better than me on the criminology midterm exam, you literally said April always comes before May.” 

April’s cheeks redden. 

“Oh my god,” she mumbles.

“You did say it!” May reiterates. 

“No, I know,” April says. “I’m sorry, I just… God, it’s stupid. You thought I was serious?”

“Well, yeah?” 

April takes a long sip of her cider.

---

45 for darling Cranberry! 🦮:

---

Cranberry brings Chris the ball, pressing it eagerly into his hand. 

“Ew, so much slobber,” Chris complains, wiping his hand on his pants. Luckily, laundry day is tomorrow. 

“Well, you’re the one who keeps throwing it for her,” Buck says. He’s just been snapping photos to send to Eddie. 

“Gross, Cran,” Chris chides, and throws the ball again, a little absentmindedly. This time, the ball goes high. Higher than Buck would have liked. And at an awkward angle.

Cranberry twists her body as she jumps, catching the ball midair. When she comes back down, she fumbles, front left paw hitting the ground hard and buckling under her. She yelps and stumbles forward. 

“Cranberry!” Chris shrieks. 

Buck lurches forward to where they’re playing, straining his leg. 

Cranberry stands and stumbles a little again. She lifts her injured paw, favoring it. Tail tucked between her leg, she limps towards Buck, seeking comfort.

Buck lowers himself down as quickly as he can manage to examine her. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks. 

“Did she break her leg?” Christopher asks, bottom lip trembling.

Buck lifts Cranberry’s injured leg. It doesn’t look broken. He flexes it. Her elbow and shoulder move without resistance, but she fights him when he tries to straighten her wrist. It can move, it just hurts her. 

“Is she okay?” Chris asks again. 

Buck feels a pang of annoyance. 

“This is why I asked you not to throw it too high,” he grits out. 

Tears spill out from the boy’s eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry, Buck.” He blubbers. “I didn’t mean to hurt her!”

Buck clenches his jaw. He feels unreasonably angry and panicked. If Christopher had just listened this wouldn’t have happened. 

“I know it was an accident,” Buck manages. 

“I’m sorry, Cranberry,” Chris cries. He takes his glasses off to wipe his eyes. 

“I think it’s just twisted,” Buck says. “I’m going to bring her inside and call the vet to see if she needs to get checked out. Okay?”

[lplondynnwo]

FOR ALL THE PEOPLE GETTING MAD AT SKZ FOR NOT SPEAKING UP ON THE ISSUE:

(this was copied from a reply because i’m noticing A LOT of people don’t seem to understand what i’m understanding)

If JYPE is allowing skz to collab with a zionist i don’t think they are gonna allow skz to speak up against the matter.

We all know that skz have a lot of creative freedom within their music and production but at the end of the day they are still just another k-pop group in a toxic industry under a big company (one of the biggest in the industry). Any wrong move they make and they could pretty much lose their jobs. You guys are forgetting THEY DONT JUST HAVE COMPLETE FREE WILL. The still have schedules and bosses. People who run things and tell them what to do.

The k-pop industry is not a very good place especially for big name idols under big name company’s. If we see the stuff that we see now, you can’t imagine what goes on behind the scenes. Why Felix doesn’t do lives after apologizing for the coca cola. Why Chan isn’t allowed to go live anymore (which he literally said himself) because of something he said. And TONS of other idols being put under harmful diets and forced to do things they don’t want, etc.

It’s not that easy and we probably haven’t even seen half of it. I get that you want them to apologize and not do this at all, trust me so do I. But like I said at the end of the day this is their job. They could lose it just like that. People get kicked out of groups and put on a hiatus for DATING. Take Seunghan from RIIZE for example; he’s on a hiatus for having a girlfriend (who he wasn’t currently with) BEFORE he even debuted. Imagine what would happen to SKZ if they speak up against a genocide (that their company obviously doesn’t care about) like you want them too.

If it’s their own collab that we can only assume they are being forced to do, then we can also assume they have to promote it as well. And as for the members— Felix specifically, didn’t we establish he’s a regular donator to ‘Save The Children’? The same ‘Save The Children’ that has been providing services towards Palestinian children since 1953?? They know, but there’s not much they can do. At least not publicly. Especially after the company made them collab with a zionist, do you expect them to be able to speak AGAINST it without consequences?

And by saying this I am not AT ALL trying to excuse anything Puth has done/said, anything JYPE has done/said, or say that StrayKids can never do any wrong (because people seem to assume that a lot). All i’m saying is it’s never really a “if they wanted to they would” situation in the K-Pop industry. Idols who have spoken out on it (Fatou from Black Swan for example) are under (the best way I can describe it is) “lower” and less watchful companies. Like I said, they’re are still bad companies in a toxic industry. However, they allow idols to do MANY things idols we know of and stan cannot do. And it’s all because of who they work for. I would love if SKZ and other popular idols with big fandoms and platforms could speak up on this and put a message out there but i just don’t think it’s possible for them. These companies literally control their entire lives.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in a Home-Cooked Meal

Summary - Part 50 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Happy New Year! I hope you all had some great celebrations with family and friends. 

Over the few days without Sam and Dean, you and Destiny do face masks, makeup, manicures, pedicures, and watch many movies. You both enjoy the freedom and relaxation of it all. You and Dean text as much as possible, assuring the other that you’re safe. You Google the property from the newspaper and peruse the photos for hours, imagining what it could look like with your few belongings inside and with your and Dean’s touch. You almost send him the link to the advertisement, but stop yourself. He always takes things better in person, and so many changes have already occurred recently. You don’t know how he’ll take another massive life change so soon. 

He texted you this morning saying they were hitting the road and coming home today. The hunt had been more difficult than they had hoped. But that’s not unusual. There’s always some turn that drags them out. You know the territory well, so you didn’t complain or make him feel worse. You just offered help from the Bunker; completing research late into the night while Destiny slept. 

Now knowing he’ll be home for dinner you set off working hard in the kitchen, Destiny at your side. Despite not liking the smell or taste of any of the ingredients, she helps eagerly. With her help, you manage to cook a decent-looking three-course meal. You have cheesy garlic bread and tomato soup to start, a mixed roast with chicken and veggies for the main and a large apple pie for dessert. You feel bad that Destiny won’t enjoy eating anything she helped create, but her happiness shows you that she just enjoyed the process and being able to do something nice for Dean especially. Once you’re done cooking, Destiny even helps you with the mountain of dirty dishes, not wanting to create or leave any extra work for the boys when they get home after the rough hunt and long trip. You want to just snuggle up with your husband after dinner and not worry about anything. 

While they’ve been away, you even had Destiny sleeping alone in her room. You would stay with her and chat until she fell asleep and then wait a while after but then you’d sneak out to the library to do research for the boys. And for the first time, last night she finally stayed the whole night in her own bed. She didn’t wake up crying or crawl into your bed. You’re not sure if it’s all the relaxation techniques you’ve been trying or if she’s just finally adapting, or a mix of both, but you’re glad all the same; for her sake and yours. You just hope she’ll do it again tonight so you can finally have a quiet night – or even an eventful one – with your husband alone. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The boys finally arrive home around 6 pm. You and Destiny are snuggling on your bed watching another anime when Dean walks in. He instantly dumps his bag on the floor and dives onto the bed with you both, wrapping you both up in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you guys,” he says as he kisses Destiny’s head and then pulls you in for a soft kiss.

“We’ve missed you too. But we had a fun girl’s week too.” You pause the movie causing Destiny to pout. “But you must be hungry. Dinner’s ready and waiting.” Dean looks at you mischievously and you instantly know what he’s thinking. You give him a stern look and shake your head. “It’s in the kitchen.”

“Can I tell Sam?” Destiny asks, surprising you both.

“Sure, go ahead,” you say encouragingly. You smile as she crawls off the bed excitedly and scurries down the hall. 

Dean takes the opportunity to pull you closer to his chest and kiss you passionately. He starts to get carried away, pushing you down into the soft memory foam mattress as he crawls over you. “I’m sure you cooked a delicious meal, but the only dinner I want is right here.” he kisses down your neck as you fight to contain yourself.

“As amazing as that sounds…the door’s open and that little girl will have a lot of questions if we don’t go out there or if she sees this. And I’m not ready to answer those questions. Are you?” you ask as you push him to sit up.

He sighs. “No. Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because you love me. And she’s growing on you. You’re great with kids, I know you wanted one. Anyway, you’ve lasted longer celibate.”

“Yeah, but I only just got to give that up and get you back again. I miss you. I miss feeling you and making love to you.”

“She slept all night in her own bed last night.”

“Really?”

“Yep. No nightmares. No waking up.”

Dean kisses you deeply with a big smirk. “Let’s go eat. The sooner we eat, the sooner it can be bedtime,” he says excitedly when he pulls away.

“You’re such a dork,” you say laughing as he climbs off the bed and pulls you with him.

“But I’m your dork.”

“That you are. For ever and ever.”

With a spring in his step, he leads you to the kitchen where he finds the feast laid out on the small table, complete with the best cutlery and crockery you could find in the dusty old cupboards. Sam and Destiny are already sitting down. Sam has a plate full of food in front of him while Destiny has the cow heart you put aside earlier; it’s a stark contrast to the vision the rest of the meal creates but you accept it. While researching their case, you also looked through the library for a cure for lycanthropy but the only thing you could find was for newly turned werewolves and only if they hadn’t fed on human hearts. Destiny being born a werewolf and also the fact that her father was feeding her human hearts exclude her from that option. But you and Dean agreed to take her on as she is in that park, so you accept her, cow hearts and all. You smile as you sit down beside her and start to fill your own plate. Dean sits beside Sam, across from you, and starts to fill his plate too. 

“This is delicious. Thanks Y/N. Much better than diner food,” Sam says. “I could get used to you staying here and us coming home to this.”

You smile at him and nod, but you feel guilty. The photos of the house on the hill filter through your mind. Could you really be happy here, like this? Raising a little girl in a Bunker? Will Dean ever really get out if you stay? He promised. He said he wanted to get out. He’s finally ready. But if we stay here… 

Dean notices the small frown as your mind wanders and nudges your leg under the table, bringing you back to the present. He catches your eyes, silently asking if you’re okay. You nod and focus on eating the meal you put so much time, effort and passion into cooking. Of course, he’s not convinced but he lets it go for now. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. 

After dinner and dessert, everyone helps to tidy up from the meal and do the dishes. Sam then retreats to his room while you start on the nightly routine you established over the last week. You make sure Destiny showers and brushes her teeth before you tuck her into her bed. You then sit on the end of the bed and go through some of the meditation exercises you found online that are meant to help with nightmares and insomnia. You have a feeling these exercises would be beneficial for your husband too, but you know it will be a push to get him to try them. Maybe in time, you can make them a family thing, but for now, you’re content with doing them with Destiny. When she starts to yawn and curl up in the blankets you place a kiss on her head and turn out the main light, leaving just the little dog-shaped nightlight on. You thought it was a little on the nose at first, but she chose it and wouldn’t put it down in the store so you happily bought it for her. You sit in a comfy chair by the door and wait for her breathing to even out. As you wait you start to drift off, but Dean peaks his head in and kisses your head.

“She asleep?” he asks quietly.

You watch the steady rise and fall of her body as she breathes for a moment and then nod. He offers you his hand which you take and he leads you to your room. He’s dressed in a pair of loose sweats and an old T-shirt, indicating he already showered while waiting for you. You frown as he climbs into bed, beckoning you to join him.

“I haven’t showered yet.”

“Sorry, did you want me to wait for you? I can always shower again if you want me to join…” You shake your head. “Come on, you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up. Shower later. Come cuddle your husband. He’s so very cold and lonely. And misses having his sexy wife in his arms.”

“Only if he stops talking about himself in the third person.”

“Just come here, Sweetheart.” He opens his arms wide, inviting you to lay on his chest. You don’t make him wait, you crawl onto the bed and into his waiting arms. He tightens his grip around you as you get comfortable.

Despite, falling asleep not minutes earlier and the comfort of Dean's embrace and steady breathing you couldn’t be more awake. The thoughts of what Sam said earlier along with your own concerns and the images of the house swirl around your mind. 

“You still awake?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake him if he is.

“You wanna talk about what was on your mind at dinner?” he asks as he rubs your back.

You nod, and then say, “Are we still planning to get out?”

You feel him tense a little as his hand stops moving on your back. After a moment he nods. “We’re not gonna raise Destiny in the Bunker forever are we?”

“Are we gonna stop answering each other's questions with more questions?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? To what? We’re not answering with questions or?”

He chuckles lowly. “Both. I meant it when I said I was ready. We’re married now, we have a daughter (essentially), you cook delicious three-course-meals…I think we can manage.”

“Hey!” you say mocking offence. “I kinda enjoy the housewife, stay-at-home-mom thing. I think I’d want to do something eventually, especially when or if Destiny goes to school full-time. But for now, I’m happy for the break. I know you’d need to stay busy though…”

“Maybe I could follow in Bobby’s footsteps. I am pretty good with cars. We just need the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence.”

“Or maybe we don’t…” you reach over onto your bedside table for your phone and bring up the ad as he looks at you confused. “It’s not in the suburbs and it doesn’t have a fence, let alone a white picket one, but I think it’s perfect.” You bite your lip as you hand him your phone and he scrolls through the photos.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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