#supposedly drank to get sleepy

[godnectar]

cannot sleep–

[fandom-wreck-9000]

Welcome home my Darling new neighbor (Wally Darling x Male reader) Yandere Fic

CW: Scopophobia, stalking, and kidnapping.

Chapter 2: Welcome home

You slightly woke up your eyes still feeling heavy, so you didn’t try to open them, you felt as if you couldn't move your body maybe you were still tired, but you could still hear, and the only thing penetrating your ears was the eerie noise of a heartbeat and something breathing all around you… You could still slightly feel, although it was as if your sense of touch was numbed. The most you could make out from what little sense of touch you had was that you were laying in a bed with soft heavy covers. due to your mind still being fuzzy with sleep, you couldn’t remember much of what happened before this moment of waking up… all you could remember was being picked up and basically being kidnapped before this moment of sleepy paralysis. This all felt like some kind of nightmare more specifically a sleep paralysis nightmare.

You decided to try and put your mind back to sleep but before you could, you hear a door open and someone walking in closer to you… You had the familiar feeling of fear in your body although it couldn’t paralyze you any more than you already were, you heard them place something down next to you on a hard surface most likely a nightstand… You could slightly feel the slight weight shift of the bed as they sat down next to you, you could feel them staring it felt so familiar, they touched your face which sent a shiver down your spine… Who the fuck was this person? “(M/N) it's time to wake up.” Their voice spoke softly it seemed monotoned, and creepy yet soothing. it took some might but you eventually managed to open your eyes, and they widened in horror as you saw a puppet sitting before you staring straight into your eyes. As soon as you saw that familiar face all the memories came flooding back with a force, it gave you a headache… And made you even more dizzy and sick than you already were because of the fear you felt… It was Wally Darling…

You tried to sit up and hit him scream and get away, but you couldn’t now being more awake you could tell just how weird your body felt and how much more difficult it was to just move it, you could only do tiny movements like move your fingers, toes, and your head a little bit. “Now now just relax you’re still getting used to your new body friend.” He said that smile you first thought was adorable and cute now seemed absolutely horrifying, and your eyes traveled to look at your arms which your once (S/C) human skin, was now (S/C) colored felt… You could tell your face showed the pure fear and horror you felt for what Wally said next. “No need to be scared friend your in good hands you are safe with me within home.” You became confused what did he mean by ‘within home’? He didn’t answer that as he helped you sit up as your body was still hard to move, your eyes moved to the nightstand which was right by the bed. What was placed onto it by Wally was a tray with food and water, you had no idea how you would eat it since you were now a puppet with supposedly no digestive system.

He apparently saw you stare at the tray with confusion and he grabbed the cup of water and spoke. “You can still drink and kinda eat you just don’t really need to but since there are still some changes happening to your body and you're getting used to your new body, I thought you could use the extra energy boost. But soon you won’t need to eat or drink anymore!” he said bringing the glass of water to your felt lips and gently opening your mouth with his hand so you could ‘drink’ it when you drank some to your own surprise, he placed it back down on the tray. You had to admit it mentally since you couldn’t really vocally admit it and frankly didn’t want to, the water slightly helped you gain some energy. During this entire interaction Wally has not stopped staring at you the only time he looked away was when he went to grab the water and place it back down, it freaked you out how much he stared at you… Especially now since he’s kidnapped you… His eyes were like empty black voids as he intensely stared at you. You also still heard the sound of a beating heart and breathing, but you decided to try and ignore it as best you can, even though it was creepy… especially for the fact that it wasn’t coming from you or Wally…

Wally seemed to be staring into your eyes with the same intensity as the day before, it was unnerving… “I’m really glad your pretty (E/C) eyes stayed even after your form changed to accommodate my world… so very glad… your eyes and yourself are the absolute most after all…” He said in his soothing monotone voice as he continued to stare, you shifted the gaze of your eyes uncomfortably. “I have to go 'cause I have stuff to do today but just rest, Friend 'cause you need to be at your best… remember you are the absolute most.” He said he got up from the bed and he blew you a kiss before leaving the room and soon the house itself, now by yourself, you sat in the bed terrified and scared you gripped the sheets with the little strength you had… how did you get into this situation why you? You felt tears gather in your eyes somehow but you didn’t pay mind to it you just wanted out, you just wanted to get back home… you didn’t want to be here anymore…

After a few hours, you were finally able to move your arms and upper body so you turned to pick up the tray that was on the nightstand looking at the food itself… it seemed less than edible… it seemed to be an attempt at french toast, but the toast wasn’t fully cooked and it seemed that the egg that was on it was still raw, there was also bacon but that was burnt to nothing but charcoal… the only thing that seemed edible was the berries, so you decided to slowly eat those because as time passed… it started to feel like your stomach was being filled with stuffing… I guess he was right about the fact you soon wouldn’t need to be eating or drinking soon anymore… you placed the tray back on the nightstand and continued to sit on the bed, still not having the energy to move your legs…

A few more hours passed and you were finally able to move your legs, so you moved so you could try to stand up from the bed, as you did you heard the front door open. You quickly stood up of course as you did you felt dizzy and your legs felt like complete jello but you grabbed the lamp that was on the nightstand and stood your ground, the ominous steps toward the room you were in frightened you… Your grip on the lamp was relentless. You heard the house creak and squeak, the steps slowed down as they stopped in front of the door to the room you were in… The door started to slowly open so you started to rush forward but you underestimated how wobbly your legs were because not even two steps forward and you tripped over your own feet and dropped the lamp, before you fell face first you heard quick footsteps toward you, and someone caught you and you knew who it was exactly. Looking up you saw Wally his stare seemed kinda angry but he helped you up and hugged you tightly to him, his face resting on your shoulder he held you tightly so tightly that you could barely move your arms away from him… but you were still too weak to fully fight back against him.

“Friend it’s okay Stop being so scared and freaking out… you almost fell and hurt yourself there you still need some rest… Let's put you back in bed friend…” He said as he picked you up with ease and put you back into the bed, sitting next to you again, back to staring at you…

You were stuck here, weren’t you?

@morallygreyhound, @grungedemon, @orquydia, @Kodasstar, @itsawildsaltychip, @yippeeboi, @bombshellbella, @bloodblossomtree, @shaggy-carpet, @fake-it-25, @eddwardtheseventhspacewizard, @r4ggedy-andy, @random-theater-kid, @kayssweetdreams, @animedestler, @zeroplay-69, @n1mble, @salems-apiary, @magno-13, @lucialaotakuxd, @loveolgy, @fufawa, @penisbanger, @callmenobodythehoe, @dragonea, @funbugz, @vato-moo, @h0n3y-f1ll3d- g1ng3rbr3ad-man, @emohaircutstumblur, @puppetskulls, drc00l4tt4, @artistesimp, @hatmekindsirr, @sirenafterdark, @flwerdeath, @wxntcl, @emerald-dream, @lurkingposting, @syrupnscones, @gay-and-random-shit-i-can-find, @bread-samdwich, @tremendouskingcherryblossom. @floof-boop, @thewisteriarchives, @the-reaper-of-souls, @justaconfusedorganism, @theoats420, @fuck-bitches-get-milk, @looneytunestime, @aoniv, @mangle5, @lurkerintheabyss, @judos-tavern, @good-from-all-sides, @buttertoast432

[shiawaseninaritai]

he who drinks the moon

jingheng, post-1.2, fluff

-

He could remember the cloud-wisp of hair at Jing Yuan’s nape with such startling clarity that he groaned and covered his chest with a closed fist.

“Dan Heng? What is it?”

Over hundreds of years, had Jing Yuan changed? The smile was the same. The self confident smirk, yes. His ponytail was more refined, Dan Heng thought. Shoulders broad, back straight, eyes brighter than the sun. This was his Jing Yuan — the one that rose like the moon he supposedly drank, and Dan Heng swallowed the dreams of maple leaves and wines and past feelings. If he asked, he was certain Jing Yuan would give himself over, maybe with a tilt of the head and a question, but…

“Dan Heng.”

There it was. The name that belonged to him, the name that did not belong to Jing Yuan. Dan Heng nodded shortly, but let his face relax at the softness in Jing Yuan’s voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Mm. If you say so.” Jing Yuan smiled at him, sleepy as a lion cub in the afternoon sun, and turned over, hair spilling in such a way that Dan Heng pivoted on his heel and forced himself to stare, hard, at the data bank and an archive that he was no longer reading.

Some time passed that way, Jing Yuan dozing lightly and Dan Heng pretending to read until he felt himself slipping into the work for real, content in simply knowing that the General was beside him. Maybe he could get used to this. He had found the Express, Welt and Himeko and March and Pom-Pom, had fallen in with them despite everything. There was plenty of room in his heart for the future and what was to come.

But the past —

“Dan Heng,” Jing Yuan called, shaking him out of one sea of thoughts and into the soft warmth that he always fell into when Jing Yuan used his name. (And Jing Yuan picked up on that fact too quickly, delightedly, forcing him to quell the heat in his face more than once.) “You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning. Take it from me. Unwind once in a while.”

“All I’ve been doing since you got here is unwinding,” Dan Heng replied, “and I’m not frowning.” Anymore. Damn him.

“Anymore,” Jing Yuan agreed. “Look at me.”

With greatly exaggerated reluctance, Dan Heng did so.

“I’m happy to be here,” Jing Yuan said plainly.

“I can see that.”

“Are you happy to see me?”

There it was. The tone. The head tilt. Dan Heng sighed and pushed away the current of memories just as he pushed himself away from the archives, coming to kneel next to Jing Yuan nestled so comfortably in his floor bed. “I suppose,” he allowed, reaching out, and tugged on a lock of moonlight hair.

[ask-voreganronpa-boys]

Can you do one where Nagito is hiding his s/o in his mouth from someone and he accidentally swallows them? (Preferably after the game)

Love your work!!! :D

hehehehehe >:), time for Mod Moon to work her magic....

"Hey Y/N? I could've sworn this bottle was almost full, did you drink some?" You heard Nagito ask, a slight worried tone laced his words. His voice seemed louder than normal, but you shrugged it off and assumed it was because you were just groggy, you had only woken up a few moments ago after all. Nagito had allowed you to spend the night at his place last night since you usually had trouble sleeping alone. And as usual he insisted that you take his bed and he'd sleep on the couch, even though there was plenty of room for the both of you in the bed. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and mumbled back to him, lazily trying to find the top of the bedsheets to poke your head out of.

"Whaaat bottllle?" You asked, but instead of a reply you were met with silence. You heard footsteps approach the door before Nagito called out again,

"Y/N? Are you in here?" He called, turning the doorknob and stepping inside the bedroom. You grumbled in frustration, at both your inability to find the edge of the bedsheet and that your sleepy mumbling wasn't heard.

"Yeeeeeeessss I'm heree, whaat do you waaant?" You groaned loudly, obviously frustrated. A jumble of curses were mumbled at the blanket, with about 100 more popping into your head each second.

"Y/N...?" You heard Nagito say, clear confusion and worry present in his voice.

"uuuuhhhgg, whaaat do you waaan-" You were cut off by the feeling of sharp cold air attacking your bare skin and a blinding light as the covers were suddenly yanked off of you. Once your eyes adjusted to the light you could make out Nagito's face looming high above you...

Wait...

That wasn't right...

Something wasn't right...

A glance around you confirmed your suspicions. Something was definitely wrong. Everything was huge, or rather, you were really small. Your gaze snapped back up to Nagito as an odd, choked sound came from his throat. You saw his already fair complexion grow sickeningly pale.

"Ah-aha ha. Well I guess that answers my question..." He choked out, a nervous laugh escaping his lips along with his words. You were too stunned to speak. Frozen in fear, you could only watch with a crude mix of horror and despair as gigantic hands slowly lowered down to you. Nagito shakily cupped his hands around your tiny form, trying his best to stay calm. He took a few deep breaths before finally speaking again.

"That bottle was supposed to have a concotion that would have a similar effect to an energy drink, but take much less of a toll on my body. Hajime mixed it up for me. But this morning-" his breath hitched in his throat and he took another deep breath. "this morning I got a very frantic text from Hajime. He... he first asked me if I drank any of it, because he had supposedly given me the wrong bottle, and the one i recieved was quite dangerous to consume. I can see why now." You could see Nagito was trying desparately to hold back his anxieties. He was clearly stressed. You on the other hand had calmed down significantly, you weren't afraid of Nagito hurting you, in fact you knew he would do everything in his power to make sure you didn't get hurt. But you could tell he didn't think the same. You placed a gentle hand to one of his fingers

“Hey, don’t worry Nags, it’ll be fine I promise. Once this stuff wears off I’ll be back to normal.” You said, hoping that would reassure him. But of course Nagito’s anxiety had found a way around that one.

“But what if I hurt you? Your so small! You could fall, or someone could step on you or—“ you cut him off before he could continue,

“I’ll be fine, I have you! Plus it’s not like this can last forever.”

“Ok, but for now can we keep this a secret from Hajime? I don’t want him to worry, he has enough to do as it is. His talents are needed elsewhere.” Nagito suggested. You were glad to hear that he hadn’t made a single self-deprecating comment in that sentence, it looked like he was getting better about that. He eyed you, waiting for a reply, so you supplied one with a giggle,

“Yea sure, but it’d be easier to keep it a secret from everyone while we’re at it. I don’t like the thought of other people seeing me this venerable. I trust you, but I’m not sure about others…” you trailed off and you saw a brief sparkle in Nagito’s eyes at the idea of you trusting him with something like this.

“Of cour—“ for the second time today Nagito was cut off, this time by a knock on the door. No doubt that was Hajime. A distant voice was heard, confirming that it was indeed Hajime.

“Hey Nagito? Uh, you ok? Your door’s unlocked, so I’m coming in.” And with that the sound of the door opening shot Nagito into panic mode. You watched as he glanced around looking for somewhere to hide you. His eyes glazed over for a moment, before he looked down at you with a concerned gaze. He whispered a ‘sorry’ before you were flying upwards, his hands carrying you right up to his mouth.

You landed on his tongue, and his teeth snapped shut behind you. You were still reeling when Nagito turned his head to face Hajime who had just walked in.

“Oh, thank god you’re actually ok.” You heard the brunette say. Nagito kept silent for obvious reasons, but you felt him nodding hesitantly.

“Okaaaayy…. Uh where’s the stuff I gave you? I uh, I have the actual energy drink right here.” Hajime said, clearly confused by Nagito’s unusual silence. A few more bras of silence proceeded that one (most likely Nagito trying to point Hajime in the direction of the fridge), before Hajime spoke once more.

“Oh… in the kitchen?”

Nagito nodded again. You heard footsteps start walking away before Hajime turned on his heels and faced Nagito again. It was then that Nagito jolted a bit, and you began to slide slowly towards the back of his throat. You looked around in a panic for something, anything to grab on to as Hajime spoke his next words.

“I tried to ignore it but honestly it’s just unsettling. Your super quiet today. Are you SURE everything is ok? You definitely look a bit more pale… wait are you gonna throw up?!” You could tell from the brunette’s words that Nagito was panicking also, but his desperate tries to pull you back up into his mouth only caused you to slip farther down until eventually…

*gulp*

Nagito was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, and Hajime standing in the bedroom doorway, with a very scared, and concerned look on his face.

“Hah… hah… yea, I’m fine!” Nagito smiled, still panting. His small smile hid his true thoughts.

Holy shit, he just swallowed a person. He fucked up so bad.

“Ok, if you insist…” Hajime said hesitantly, before walking out and over to the kitchen. As soon as he was out of eyesight Nagito slapped a hand to his stomach. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt you jolt inside. You were ok… maybe… hopefully this wouldn’t scar you for life or anything.

You heard Hajime say a brief goodbye before the door shut behind him, and immediately Nagito began panicking.

“Y/n I am so sorry, are you ok? Please forgive me, my worthlessness and stupidity truly are despairing…” he trailed off. You on the other hand became increasingly more concerned.

“Nagito, stop with the self-deprecating stuff I’m fine, I promise.” You told him, finding a comfortable spot to lay down in. It was warm, and there was a faint glow of green from the inside of his stomach. Upon closer inspection you could see that the walls around you were extremely malnourished, and you felt sorry for him.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to spit you out? You probably want me to spit you out that was a stupid question, who would want to be in a stomach, especially a disgusting one such as mine.” Nagito rambled, the self depreciation coming back in full force now, it was a bit concerning, but you could work on that later. You needed to calm him down and reassure him everything was ok first and foremost. You placed your hand against one of the walls of his stomach.

“I’m fine I promise. It’s actually really nice in here, can I stay here for a little while? Maybe I could get some more sleep in, if it’s on with you.” You admitted, making sure to ask for permission, it was Nagito’s stomach after all, he was in control over his body and what made him uncomfortable.

“Really? I never would have thought that anyone would want to stay in my disgu— in my stomach. I’m ok with it if it makes you happy.” You felt one of the walls cave in some as Nagito pressed a hand to his stomach from the outside. You smiled, happy to finally fall back asleep in the safety of Nagito’s tummy. You’d have to ask Hajime for more of that concoction later…

Hope you liked it anon!!! :D, i had some fun with this one!! Sorry it took so long tho!! I’ve been SUPER BUSY and I’m literally finishing this drabble up in bad before I go to sleep lol. I actually started it a while ago so I had a good chunk done already and it was really only. A matter of finishing it up!! :),

Have an amazing day/night/whatever, and happy reading!!!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Spooky Season is nearly upon us, my loves! And so in advance celebration of the air finally freaking cooling down a couple degrees, I bring you badly retold ghost stories from my home state of South Carolina!

I'd have suggested Florida, since that's where I spent my early childhood, but tbh Florida is just so...Florida...that ghosts can't upstage the shenanigans of the living.

1. The Lizard Man of Scape Ore Swamp

My dude starts out in 1988 with police reports about a woman's car having claw and teeth marks, with muddy footprints and hair left behind. Ah yes, lizards: famously hairy creatures. After a teenager calls the cops about a seven foot tall "green" "wet-ish" critter doing its darndest to go car surfing -- and maybe snack on some teenage drivers if he gets the munchies -- the two reports kinda get conflated and the Lizard Man was born. Very shortly thereafter, the local chamber of commerce realized they could capitalize on a local cryptid, and he’s been a regional meme ever since.

Worth noting: 2 years before our scaly friend debuted, The Swamp Thing was filmed in the same state 🤔

2. Lavinia Fisher, the Demon Barber Innkeeper of Fleet Street Charleston

Because who doesn't like beds that are secretly trap doors, right?

That's the legendary modus operandi, at least. This was the 1800s, so what we know now might be as badly retold as anything I could make up, as a disclaimer.

The story goes that John and Lavinia Fisher ran an inn called Six Mile House, which is a strange thing to name a house, except when you have built it six miles from Charleston. Nice little place, but people started noticing that it seemed to be a branch of the Hotel California: you could check in anytime you liked, but you were never going to leave. But considering the lack of a Yelp column in the newspaper, this took a while to be noticed.

Lavinia would welcome wealthy guests in, make them comfortable, make them feel at home, and then make them poisoned tea. Not enough to immediately kill, just enough to drug them.

Now, you may be wondering what I initially wondered: But Radio, wouldn't they have tasted something odd?

And now I regret to inform you of the peculiarity that is South Carolina Sweet Tea.

Sweet Tea is definitely a Southern Thing around here, but I'll say this: the sweet tea I've had in other typically southern states at least tasted like tea. The stuff we have here around the capitol? It's syrup in a cup. You could put it in a feeder and attract hummingbirds. Pour it on some decorative ivory and your knickknacks will develop cavities. Its served cold because if you drank that much sugar while hot your teeth would instantly mutiny and flee your mouth.

Lavinia could've put whatever she wanted in that stuff and it probably would've been hard to tell. And Southern Manners would mean those poor saps would just pretend not to notice the taste. Either that, or their taste buds were already so destroyed by their own preferred blends of sweet tea that they wouldn't have known the difference anyway.

Once a guest got sleepy, John and Lavinia would show them to a guest room and leave them to go to bed. But seeing as you read the beginning of this section, you already know where that bed is going: straight through the floor.

I don't know how they set that up, but I'm picturing like, the frame just opening and dropping the whole kit and caboodle down.

Supposedly, they kept a row of spikes in the basement for the guest to drop onto. Honestly though, that would tear up the mattress or pallet wouldn't it? That's not a cost effective way to mug your inn guests and still hide evidence. So unless they had an unlimited supply of replacement bedding, we can probably ignore the spikes in favor of the rather more Sweeney Todd theory: that John was waiting downstairs with an axe to finish what the blunt force trauma started.

It all had to come crashing down eventually, of course.

The scheme, not the trapdoor, mind you.

Eventually a guest with taste came along: a word here used to indicate that he could tell the difference between tea and syrup in a cup. When Lavinia made her special brew, he took a sip and had a perfectly reasonable reaction:

But he didn’t want to hurt his host's feelings. After all, we can't all be skilled in measuring an Appropriate Amount of Sweetener. So he waited until Lavinia was busy, and dumped the tea down the sink. Of course, this had the side effect of him not being sleepy when he went to his room. He was still up and puttering around when John and Lavinia pulled the lever, and saw his bed disappear into the floor.

Naturally, he beat feet and informed the authorities that Six Mile House was not, strictly speaking, up to code. As a result, John and Lavinia were arrested and charged with highway robbery and mass murder, for which both were later executed. Nobody actually knows how many people died in the inn, nor exactly how involved Lavinia actually was.

3. One more for the road: Bigfoot

Yes, I said Bigfoot.

Generally, we stick to our Lizard Man, and maybe the Catawba River Runner. But there have been just enough Bigfoot Incidents for police in 2017 to put out a warning for locals not to shoot at any Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) Lest they harm a prankster in a monkeysuit.

Aaaaaand then September arrived. And with it, a surprise cameo by the big fella himself at Hunting Island State Park. I, personally, stand by my theory that many "Bigfoot" sightings are Regular Animals In Places They Definitely Shouldn't Be (like the monkeys that live in Wekiwa Springs, FL). I personally find that explanation both technically still a cryptid, and also very entertaining. Brownish black fur, five or so feet tall, walking upright, according to witnesses.

The park superintendent says he's taking it as a "credible incident", so make of that what you will.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Word count: 2K

Warnings: bullet wounds, hospital, swearing.

3

Oh darling, please believe me

I’ll never do you no harm… 

The music reverberated through the whole floor. You danced around, and Bucky was the only one that joined you, if not a little shyly. Tony sat on the couch flipping through some news and sighed as he asked you to change to a better music.

“Nothing is better than The Beatles, Stark”, you said in between laughs, and Bucky flipped you in the air. His strength almost matched Loki’s, and you weren’t afraid of him dropping you to the floor.

Believe me when I tell you,

I’ll never do you no harm.

“Uh, I beg to differ”, he raised an eyebrow, still with his eyes on his current research. “By the way, are you coming to the next mission?”.

“I’ll ask Loki. I told him he could join me”.

“Well?”, he inquired, pointing with his head at the door from your room. You didn’t know if you wanted to say it out loud. The common room had not only Tony, but also Bucky, Steve and Clint. You sighed. "He's sleeping".

"Liar. You wouldn't be here".

“Okay. He’s out now”.

“Where? It’s four in the morning”, he laughed, and then dropped his news to look at you with concern, realizing. “Oh”.

“No, it’s not… it’s not what you think. He goes on walks to keep his mind busy”, you lied.

“Sure. At four in the morning”.

Oh darling, if you leave me,

I’ll never make it alone.

“Yes, we don’t question his ways, okay? He’s been feeling bad”, you defended him, and turned the music higher. With a hand gesture, you invited Steve to dance with you. He chuckled and accepted it.

Truth was, you had no idea where Loki was now. He kissed you goodnight when he thought you were asleep, muttered something along the lines of I’m sorry, I’ll get this fixed, and left around midnight. He should have been in bed by now, and you couldn’t call him or check on him in any way. Not without compromising the secretism, anyway.

And you were upset. You were so, so upset, because you’ve had fights about this for the past week, and still he thought it best to just do as he pleased when you were supposedly asleep. You were so, so upset. But concerned at best, because he never told you what his plan was about. He had no regard for his safety. He could be getting injured, at best. He could be getting killed under the hands of the Mad Titan or whoever huge predecessor of Layfey that would be guarding the throne. He could be getting hurt and killed and in pain and he blocked you out so you could do nothing about it.

So you danced. You drank coffee to keep you awake until he came home, and moved your hips to the rhythm of the music. Trying to forget the matter for a while.

Believe me when I beg you,

Don’t ever leave me alone.

“Hey”, called Thor, walking in with the pillow marks on his face. “Turn down that thing, it’s too late”, he asked. “Oh, you’re here. Where is my brother? Sleeping?”.

“On a long and weird walk”, said Clint without looking away from Steve’s awful dance moves. He was getting ready to pull off his phone and become famous on tiktok. You spinned under Steve’s old-fashioned steps.

“Walk? At these hours?”, he laughed. “My brother doesn’t do that”.

“Yes, he does”, you said nonchalantly, trying to hide your unease. Maybe you should’ve stayed in your room. That way, your loneliness in the late night wouldn’t be too evident.

You had grabbed Loki by the wrist before he left. He knew he didn’t leave you sleeping—you asked him to stay. You told him there was nothing he could do about it anymore. He murmured he could and he would, and the mere thought of being able to fix it all kept him up at night anyway, so he might as well go and get it.

You told him if he loved you he would stay. He told you he was doing this because he loved you. He told you it was the —only— way to keep both of you safe and together. You thought he was wrong, and that thought remained there, eating your brains alive, while you tried to dance it out. A knot in your throat kept you from talking any further.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and cried.

When you told me you didn't need me anymore,

Well you know I nearly broke down and died.

“Where is Loki?”, asked Thor once again, coming out of his room when the sun had already setted widely on the sky. No rain, a clear day, perfect for flying. The mission would start in the next three hours, and you were still waiting.

“Look, I really need to get a confirmation on whether I’m having you on the mission or not”, said Tony, losing his patience. “He’ll come back at some point, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s a God on Earth. What would happen? He’d get mugged and stab the damn robber?”, he joked, and you pretended to laugh.

“You’re right. I’m going, count me in”.

Where was he, now?

Something was for sure, he was away.

And a week had passed. A whole week with its seven days, and you've received no notice whatsoever of your lover.

Thor seemed to know, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He said it wasn't his place. He said he didn't know what Loki was thinking about. He said he didn't want to misinterpret his messages. He said a lot of things and none of them were comforting. None of them fulfilled your need to know —where is he, is he well, is he traveling, is he locked up, is he dead, is he with someone else, is he ever coming back, is he even trying to communicate—what's going on?

In the quinjet, you looked down the window. Bucky and Thor were in front of you, and Tony by your side, explaining the steps of the next mission. You weren't listening much. Just nodded. You knew those things never went as planned —having plans would usually get worse outcomes, from your experience. Plans wouldn't work.

You had one small plan; climb a mountain. You were going to a marvelous place, and you always wanted to climb them. It was completely possible you could get a few hours off, if not half a day to go and get it. You'd maybe convince your teammates.

Whatever you could do to keep your mind away from Loki's suicidal mission, whatever that may be.

"Buckle up, fellas", said Tony, getting into his suit already. "There's fighting to get through right now. We'll have to do the brainy part after".

And just like that, Thor with Mjölnir in hand, Bucky ripping off his sleeve and you getting your boots adjusted, jumped off the quinjet and landed on soft grass.

There weren't many people you had to fight. They were just very strong. You held your grip to Tony's suit as he flew with you all around the forest.

The rest… you might know how it goes. As it always does. You’re too reckless—words from everyone on the team, all the time—and you jumped off too quickly to catch Bucky’s bullet.

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?”, yelled Bucky as he approached you. He applied pressure on the bullet wound and you gasped for your dear air as you felt a little dizzier and dizzier.

“You were about to get shot!”, you justified.

“I’m a supersoldier, you fucking idiot”.

“Do I look like I make rational decisions on the run?”.

“Here, as you lay on the floor bleeding out from an unnecessary bullet wound that would’ve been a fucking scratch on me? Yeah, no shit, you make great decisions on the run”.

“I thought you were shy to talk”.

“No, I just keep my mouth shut because people aren’t so stupid for me to talk back to them, but you just…”.

“Agh!”, you contorted in pain and then James decided to stop bitching about how you saved him from the hit—when he so clearly wanted to get shot instead—why would he care so much? “Could you… take me to the quinjet? There’s gotta be like a first aid kit in there or something”.

“What? You gonna put a bandaid over the bullet and call it a day? Come on, I’m taking you to the medbay”.

“No way, Buck. They’ll get me to a hospital for the day and won’t let me participate on the mission. Come on, just patch me up a little and don’t say anything”.

James rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No”.

He took you to the medbay, and, as you predicted, you spent the night in the hospital. The whole night, and woke up the next morning in that same goddamn white bed with white sheets, surrounded by white walls and white everything. Except a dusted friend, who had been holding your hand the whole time.

Bucky, scratched from head to toe and very clearly lacking a shower and a good night of sleep, didn’t let go of your hand even when you woke up. And damn you who were only thinking about how that should be Loki by your side.

“Hey, morning sleepy head”.

“What are you doing here? You should be on the mission”, you reproached him with a smile. “Not here, being a good friend and all”.

“I wanted a day off work”.

You laughed. He seemed too tired to even move.

“Thanks”, you sighed, and looking out of the window, heard the door opening and Tony Stark walking in. “Oh, sorry boss”.

“Call me boss again and you’re fired”, he said, sitting on the foot of your bed. “You reckless, irresponsible idiot. You should be fired for this alone. You’re a danger to the team and especially to yourself”.

“Come on. I defended a member of the team”.

“You jumped in front of a supersoldier about to get a fucking mosquito bite out of a bullet, that's what you fucking did”.

“The spirit is what counts, after all?”, you tried, and he laughed shortly, only to come back with a meaner expression.

“Hell no”.

“At least I can go back to work today, right?”, you tried. Tony just laughed—that bastard. Fucking asshole. And where was Thor? Was he with his brother? No that he’d say anything.

Wow. Painkillers made you bitchy.

“We’re both taking the day to get you recovered, and Stark and Thor will handle the mission. Tomorrow you get back if you’re well rested and in enough shape, alright?”, explained Bucky with a softness that almost made you vomit. He was sugarcoating it—surrounding it with nice-sounding words and a soft-spoken voice.

“No way I came all the way here to not do shit and let you do all of the things I’m supposed to do”.

“We could climb that mountain you wanted to”, he tried, and then you were out of words. You thought about it for a few seconds.

“Okay”.

“Are you crazy? They’s got stitches. They can’t make efforts. Bed rest”, fought Tony. Bucky winked at you.

“That’s why I’m going with them. I’m gonna make sure they don’t get any worse, alright?”.

“Make sure they gets better”.

“Consider it done, chief”.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 , @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @enderslove, @theonewiththenerds )

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

How about some sleepy medicine instead? Melatonin works sometimes for me.

Sleep meds don’t work on me. I have a resistance to some medications. Pain killers (including morphine) and sleeping pills being two of them that I know of.

Just to be clear to any of my followers, please NEVER do what I’m about to say but I once drank alcohol with sleeping pills to try and get to sleep awhile back during a bout of insomnia. The packaging warned that doing that can send you into a coma. I still didn’t get to sleep. Alcohol and sleeping pills, a combination that can supposedly put you into a coma couldn’t put me to sleep. My body is weird.

Thankfully general anaesthesia can knock me out, but I don’t think that is meant to be used for regular sleep 😂 Just pointing out I can at least be knocked out for surgeries, lol.

[ayellowcurtain]

I think most agree with an alpha for Robbe and a jealous and heartbroken Sander for seeing that he is losing it

I demand a rematch for our little Robin, in each chapter Sander is the one who supposedly rules the relationship for being an alpha, now another alpha should appear pretending to Robbe and the already tired of this relationship with Sander decide to go on dates with the other alpha, evoking Sander's jealousy.

a new alpha for Robin, who appreciates her beautiful body and beautiful curls! and let the most zealous Sander appear when he sees that Robbe is more than just for the end but that he is forever! stated!

There were more request about another part of the abo!AU, but this would be too long. Anyway, hope this one goes well. It’s a very long one too. 

I’ll also fix this order soon. I think this was Part 4

Long fingers connected to a strong hand close to Robbe’s smiling lips, gently stealing the joint straight from his mouth, putting it between stranger, cocky lips, using the “sharing a joint” act as some kind of clichê romance. Sander almost wants to puke while watching the scene from afar. Robbe is at ease, slightly tipsy and so fucking horny. Sander hates himself for it, but his body now doesn’t care about anyone else, Robbe is the only smell can he can pick, even when he much rather smell anything else other than Robbe wanting someone else.

Sander knows Robbe is the perfect personification of a dream guy. A small, lean figure, soft curls framing his perfect face, a coy smile constantly on his thin, pink lips, so fucking polite and sweet and how can someone not be attracted to all of that?

Someone comes closer and stands right next to him, Sander blinks a few times, hating how miserable he’s suddenly feeling, not having to look to know that it’s Senne.

“What does that guy want?” He asks, pointing to the stranger next to Robbe like his thought aren’t obvious, anger and jealous written all over his face.

Senne laughs, bumping his shoulder against Sander’s. “They’re just talking, chill out. And Robbe isn’t your property either.”

Sander huffs, finishing all his beer at once, thinking about the bite in Robbe’s chest and the soft red marks still painting the side of his neck from days ago. He knows Robbe’s neck is still sensible because when he opened the door for Robbe earlier, he made sure to put his hand on the side of his neck when he kissed his cheek, pressing his fingers where his lips were days ago. Robbe lifted his shoulder, protecting his neck from Sander’s tickle, smiling and walking away, into the party.

Robbe is not his property, but Sander is the closest person to have him completely. Nobody will ever have what they do, no matter how much they work for it, no matter how nice they look, how good they treat Robbe in exchange for a real chance with him.

Sander starts to overheat and walks away, finding an empty kitchen for him to hide in, walking around in circles, out of breath, trying not to throw his empty bottle against some hard surface to relieve some of his frustration.

But his mood gets even worse when he hears the annoying sigh Senne lets out as he stops at the kitchen’s door.

“What now, Senne? I don’t have to stay and watch him making out with someone else do I?”

“They went upstairs,” Senne says and Sander turns and looks at him, not sure if he wants to punch his face or just die right now. At least the party would be over and Robbe would have to go home, alone, hopefully.

-

He should have gone home last night, the second he knew Robbe had made up his mind to stay with that asshole, but he didn’t. Senne is rich and his couch is better than any bed Sander has ever slept on, but he still couldn’t sleep very well, waking up with every little noise, looking up the stairs in hopes to catch Robbe trying to sneak out.

Nobody closed the curtains so Sander keeps his eyes closed, but he’s completely awake when the sun rises, hitting the couch and his face directly.

Suddenly he’s hit by Robbe’s smell and he opens his eyes only to instantly finding Robbe at the top of the stairs, looking half asleep, but fully dressed, his clothes don’t even look too out of place.

He smells normal again, like himself, not like his feelings, bursting through his skin.

Robbe smells like a bonfire, not wild, untamed fire, just the fire you would stare while camping in the middle of nowhere, cuddling up to someone while watching the stars.

Sander moves to lie on his side, watching as Robbe notices him, but comes downstairs without saying anything, his feelings still mostly quiet, warm, and fuzzy like every time he has barely woken up. Sander knows he can’t say a word, but he can’t help but stare, hoping Robbe will say something.

“What are you still doing here?” Robbe whispers softly when he stops right next to the couch, his fingers gently playing with Sander’s hair, putting it to the side so they can see their eyes properly.

“Too drunk to go home so I stayed. How was the night?”

Robbe shrugs and nods his head. “Good…”

“Was he good?” Sander closes his eyes, noticing how dry his throat is. Robbe is still touching his hair and Sander just wants to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t.

“We didn’t have sex, it’s our first date. We just went upstairs because he got tired of you staring at us.” Robbe says with a sleepy smile on his face, talking so easily like he’s telling one of his friends about his date, not Sander.

“Us…”

Robbe finally stops touching Sander’s hair just to touch his own, looking to the other side, the sun standing proudly in a cloudless sky. “You said it yourself that we’re young, Sander…”

Sander pushes the covers away from him, standing up in front of Robbe.

“But this is different. Britt means nothing, everyone else means nothing.”

Robbe finally turns his eyes to meet Sander’s. “And why do you think he means something to me?”

“You went on a date with him.” Robbe sighs and shakes his head. “What? Did he light some candles and you two watched the sky while talking about meaningful things? While all the wrong, damaged people were down here committing all types of sins, you were there, with a prince charming, having a fairy tale date. Good for you, Robbe.”

Robbe looks down and their conversation is interrupted by someone else on the second floor. Sander takes a deep inhale, watching as the guy comes downstairs and smiles when his eyes meet Robbe’s.

“Thought you were gone already…” He says like Sander is not even there, barely inches away from Robbe and his confidence makes Sander’s blood simmer and his heart drops to his stomach, making him nauseous again. Now that they’re this close, Sander can really take a look at the guy. He’s taller and wider than Sander, but not too much. He tries to get a smell out of him, but nothing. Maybe it’s because Sander is so trained to focus on Robbe and only Robbe, but it doesn’t matter. The guy is a nobody. Sander has a hard time bowing down to other people and that usually gets himself in so much trouble, but he’s so close to saying or doing things he might regret, the only thing stopping him is Robbe right next to him, talking so happily to the guy. Sander can’t even hear them, his ears are ringing so loud.

“I’m gonna get the fuck out of here.” He thinks out loud and Robbe finally acknowledges him, but doesn’t stop him from grabbing his boots on the floor, bumping into the guy as he walks between the two to get out of there. Robbe calls his name once but again doesn’t stop him. Sander slams the door on his way out, walking back home, needing the freezing breeze against his face to calm him down.

Sander doesn’t stay long inside his house, he’s still buzzing with anger and jealousy so he just takes a shower and puts some clean clothes on, staring at the pictures of him and Robbe they glued all around his house not even two days ago.

He tries to be rational, he brought this to himself, Robbe is not guilty, he’s just doing like Sander suggested him to do, but it hurts, like never before. He walks around for hours, just needing to put his energy out somehow. His favorite bar is open, Sander is not very sure what time it is, but as he walks inside, he’s relieved to at least be somewhere where it brings him some kind of comfort.

The guy behind the bar already knows him and serves his beer after a minute or two. The place is still very much empty, the sun has barely set and Sander chugs his beer like it’s the most refreshing water on a hot summer day.

-

“Finally found you…” Robbe’s voice and strong smell bring Sander back from his stupor. He looks around himself, the bar is packed with strangers, even the stools around him have people. He lost count of how much he drank sitting him, alone, feeling sorry for himself.

“Wha are you doing here?” He feels himself say, but it sounds muffled inside his head.

Robbe holds his hands, gently making him turn on the stool and try to stand up, but the floor is moving under him. “Was looking for you. For hours now, actually.”

Suddenly, it hits Sander, almost sobering him up completely. Robbe is about to go into heat. Just the realization makes him want so much, so fast, but he can’t. They’re not together. Robbe probably has someone in mind to help him deal with that. “You’re going into heat…” His lips say before his brain can stop him.

Robbe sighs and blushes and it makes Sander feel just a tiny bit better, that Robbe still blushes because of him. Only then he realizes Robbe using comfy, oversized clothes, layers, and layers of it, clearly not trying to look good for a night out, just comfortable. Sander can almost picture him nesting and fuck! All he wants is to kiss Robbe until he’s melting against the mattress, asking for cuddles.

He stands up on his own, trying to keep a distance from Robbe. “I can’t...you should go,” Sander says like it would help himself from stop smelling and even tasting it.

“Calm down, it’s not here yet…” Robbe comes closer, putting Sander’s arm around his neck, helping him walk home.

They walk with a comfortable silence between them. Sander wants to ask why was Robbe looking for him, how did we know we would be there, but lately he can’t help but feel stupid, saying things he doesn’t mean just to keep Robbe at a safe distance from him. He can’t even explain why he does that. Sander wants to be selfish and just be with Robbe, but Robbe is too good for him, for anyone, really.

He doesn’t argue when he notices they’re going to Robbe’s place, he just tries to walk with his own feet the best he can, leaning against Robbe just a little bit. He smells so good.

Robbe only lets go of him when they’re standing outside his door. He helps Sander lean against the wall and he unlocks his door, dropping his keys inside as he comes back to help Sander in.

Maybe it’s his drunk brain playing tricks on him and his neediness of Robbe, but when he comes inside, it’s almost like Sander can smell him in Robbe’s flat. He thinks about the nest Robbe is probably building, wonders if there’s something that belongs to him inside of it.He doesn’t ask, but his answer comes in how Robbe is now avoiding his eyes, taking his jacket and hoodie off, throwing on the wooden bench right next to the door to deal with it later, his cheeks getting redder. He recognizes his sweatshirt when Robbe takes another hoodie off.

Then Sander can’t bring himself to care about other people, about feelings or hookups, he doesn’t give a shit about anything else other than Robbe. His soft, understanding, so incredibly sweet and in love Robbe.

His hand goes to Robbe’s jaw before he can talk himself out of it and the way Robbe instantly parts his lips make a growl grow big inside Sander’s chest, but he manages to close his mouth for a second to stop it from coming out, stepping into Robbe’s personal space, making him look up, his lips still a little open, looking up at Sander.

“Do you want me or him? I’m sure he gave you his num-”

“You,” Robbe answers softly in a quiet whimper and Sander bites the inside of his lips not to drunkenly smile back at Robbe.

“Are you sure, Robbe?”

“You’ll do what I want, right?” Sander can only nod his head, not sure anymore if he’s able to hide his true feelings and emotions from his face or his smell. “So what I was trying to say: I want you.”

He can’t see, but he knows Robbe stands on his tiptoes, asking for a kiss and Sander can never say no to him, so he pulls him closer by his jaw, slowly licking Robbe’s lips - from bottom to top - making him properly open his mouth and sigh with the anticipation.  

They kiss and Robbe finally opens up for him again, wrapping both his arms around Sander’s neck, keeping them as close as possible and Sander helps him but his legs around his hips, smiling against his lips.

“Nobody has what we have. You’re mine, Robin.” He whispers while still with his eyes closed. Robbe can probably smell everything he’s trying to hide, but he keeps his eyes close just to pretend to himself, walking to Robbe’s bedroom, his hand in the small of his back underneath the oversized sweatshirt, kissing him like it’s all he needs to live.

[duker42]

Levi finally proposing to his s/o but she says no, leaving him very heartbroken. Over the course of a few days, he's pondering why she said no, thinking that he's not good enough for her. One day he finds her looking at the ring box in their room. He couldn't take It anymore and asked why she rejected him. His s/o breaks down saying that she thinks she's not good enough for him and thinks she won't be a good wife. He immediately makes her understand that she is worthy and that he wants to be-

***I think I cut you off Anon when I closed the Ask Box. If I didn’t get what you were looking for, shoot me a message. But Poor Levi!!! Poor Y/N. Clumsy in love people! 😟😟😟😟

💜Not Good Enough💜

Levi started the rapidly retreating back of his lover. Looking down at the box in his hand, he wondered how he had misread her and their relationship so badly. The ring laying in the velvet box mocked him. extremely glad that he hadn’t made the proposal a public affair, the humiliation of being turned down was a bit less painful since it was seen by everyone they knew. 

His heart sank. He had always know that he wasn’t good enough for the dazzlingly passionate girl. His sullen manner and cold looks no match for the warmth of her being. He had hoped that she had thought him good enough, she had supposedly loved him. She had shared his bed and brightened his days. Her refusal had just confirmed his fears…he was destined to be alone. 

~~~~~

Y/N brushed away tears as she sat in her old room. After rejected Levi’s proposal, she couldn’t face him, couldn’t sleep in their bed. So she had hidden out, curling up on the bed as she wallowed in her pain. 

~~~~~

He tried to bury himself in work. Two days had passed since that horrible night. He hadn’t slept, being kept awake by reliving his worst attributes. Every time his tone had been harsh, or his manner dismissive had replayed in his mind. Those had to be the reason she had said no. Why would she want to build a life with a man who had no time for her, or spoke to her as rudely as he sometimes could. 

Sighing he got up to go make himself some tea. He had dealt with loss before. He would just have to figure out to deal with the biggest loss of them all. In losing Y/N, he had lost his own heart. 

~~~~~

When he returned he found the door to their, no...his, bedroom slightly opened. He knew that he had shut it tightly, not want to see the bed where he had spent so many hours wrapped up with Y/N. Not wanting to see the image of her flushed excited body spread out, waiting for his touch. Her sleepy smile as she kissed him good morning. 

Setting his tea on the desk, he approached the door slowly, afraid he might find all of Y/N’s things missing. Really confirming he had lost her for good. When he pushed the door open, he found her sitting on the bed, holding the ring box. She was gingerly tracing the ring with a finger as tears slipped down her cheeks. Odd for someone who had turned that same ring away. 

He couldn’t stand it. He had to know what he had done to make her reject the common dream he thought they had shared. Clearing his throat quietly, he asked one word. “Why?”

Y/N’s head shot up and she leaped to her feet. “Levi! I…..” She looked at his exhausted face, the pain of her refusal evident in his eyes. She needed to tell him. “It’s me. I don’t deserve you.”

“Huh?” His startled grey eyes demanded more information from her.

“I’m not good enough to be your wife Levi! You are so….you and I’m nobody! I don’t think I can be a good wife. I won’t make you happy. You can have anyone you wanted. There is someone out there way better for you than me.”

Relief flooded his system as he shot her an incredulous look. “Are you stupid? You are better for me. I couldn’t do better if I searched for the rest of my life.”

He pushed her back on the bed, quickly covering her with his body. Silencing her cry of surprise with his mouth, he poured every emotion he had into that kiss. He held her tightly against him as if afraid she would disappear. He drank from her lips as if he were dying of thirst and she was his oasis.

Pulling back, he saw the cautious optimism in her passion misty eyes. Looking at her softly, his tone was slightly forceful from his emotions. “Never let me hear you say your not good enough, Y/N. Now, marry me.”

Y/N smiled at the order and pulled her lover down for another kiss.

[narrators-journal]

Ace exploration

So, my world has taken a turn or two since my last original post. One of the biggest being me turning Luna into a male just because I could and I wanted to try it to see how I felt about it so I felt less stifled. This exploration is a part of that. Though, I’ve already posted some art of Ace on my other tumblr.

    Finally, the day had ended, leaving dark shadows and mystery in the wake of the sun's golden rays. Ace always preferred these darker, calmer hours. The days were always too hectic, so full of life and energy, the pressure to do something. The night was relaxed, the town was quiet and sleepy, Ace could do whatever he wanted without people to judge, no crowds to try and push through, no one awake to judge him for waking up so late, it was perfect.       He could never explain why he had such an attraction to the night, but he'd always struggled to wake up in the day time. He was always more productive at night too, so when he got to be an adult he gave up on trying to keep his sleep schedule normal and let it drift naturally into nocturnal mode since his work was rarely dictated by the day.         So here he sat, on the windowsill to his room, looking out at the grounds of the casino he lived in. sat on the sill between his legs was a cup of water, which he tried to get to move with his hand. Normally, this was an easy task, Ace was supposed to be the god of the moon after all, but that ease only came when he had drank blood, but he had recently promised his younger twin, Nico, that he'd stop that. He hated it.         No matter what Umbra, the shadow-born bipedal rabbit assured him, it was a slap to the face to lose all of the control he had of his powers. It was humiliating to be unable to do something so supposedly easy as moving a cup of water in time with his hand. So, it wasn't a surprise when he threw the cup down to the ground and covered his icy blue eyes while listening to the sound of it shattering interrupting the cricket song and melody of the distant stray dogs, cats, and muddled, nonsensical thoughts of sleeping masses murmuring comfortably. Wait, thoughts?             Ace's eyes opened again and he looked around at the empty casino grounds. The massive, extravagant building was at the very edge of town, no one was within at least a mile and half of this place, so there was no way the white haired man could've heard people below him muttering, but if no one was around, than what the hell was that murmur of nonsense? Was it really the thoughts of the distant population?           "UMBRA!" Ace yelled, swinging his legs back into his room as the bipedal rabbit creature formed out of the rooms many shadows, "what the fuck is wrong with my abilities?! You said I was too new to this to be able to do shit like read minds, but if so, why can I apparently read the whole fucking town?!" he asked, the rabbit unfazed by his demanding and panicked tone.            "I didn't say you were too new I said you were too angry to try. Doing something like reading minds requires you to be calm and open to it, not angry and stuck in your own bitterness." he explained in a calm, collected manner, which ate at Ace more,            "That's bullshit, because you're bitter and angry, yet you can read minds!" he accused,            "I can put aside my wrath for a time to read someone's mind, can you?" Umbra asked, and Ace was going to argue, but the stern look the Champion gave kept him from trying. "Listen Ace, I can't always help you figure out your powers. It's up to you to figure them out, I can only give you the basics for how to not do something like blow up everyone's brains, or break the sewer system." he continued,              Ace just huffed, knowing well that he was right. Umbra had told the angry man all about how he himself didn't fully understand the ins and outs of the powers of the lunar deity, he was simply a champion, not an expert. So, with a heavy sigh he scrubbed his eyes, trying not to get frustrated,             "Well than, teach me the basics of reading minds." he told the rabbit, who seemed to roll his permanently shut eyes,             "Fine,"

           Before long, Ace was sitting with his legs crossed in the beam of moonlight pouring in from the open window, Umbra sat in front of him in the same way,              "Alright, now close your eyes and relax. Let your thoughts come and go without trying to think of anything." the rabbit hummed, his sleepy sounding voice helping Ace to relax. "don't fall asleep, but open yourself up to the sounds of your surroundings and let everything just be." he continued, and Ace did his best to follow his instructions.           He let the soft sounds of the insects outside and the owls catch his attention, but he didn't linger on it. He just listened to the sounds of outside mingling with the dull thrumb of the casino's wires, the small sounds of the building settling, his own breathing, he listened to it all and just let it come and go from his thoughts. After a moment, he heard it again, the mumbles of unfocused thoughts, Now that you're open to the thoughts, calmly try to focus in on one particular line of thinking. Don't intervene, just observe the thoughts. Umbra said, his voice still low and whispered, but much clearer, like when you try to make your inner voice whisper.             He decided against questioning that at the moment and just drifted through the different trains of thought, until he heard a vaguely familiar voice in the mass and turned to that one. He found that this particular string of nonsense belonged to Nico. He curiously sat there and let his twins thoughts fill his head too relaxed to be surprised when the nonsense formed pictures in his minds eye, memories of the past. Images of two small boys with black hair playing at the park, Nico at gymnastics class, both of them being awake and running around outside at some ungodly hour of the night. The images of memories brought up Ace's own memories of his younger years. Playing outside with his brother, those nights their parents took them to McDonald for days in a row, the day him and Nico were loaded into a lady's car and taken to cps, that time Ace woke up in the early morning to his dad setting him down at an orphanages steps, Nico asleep at his side. When he returned his tentative focus to Nico's dreams he found they reflected his own memories. His brothers dreams had gone from happy memories, to the day Ace left the small, run down apartment they'd scrounged by to rent at seventeen, waking up confused and scared, messaging with no reply, and finally, crying.               Finally, Ace tore himself from the thoughts, returning to his own head and back to the fancy bar lounge room he called a bedroom. He opened his eyes, feeling his own hot tears staining his cheeks,              "Are you okay Ace?" Umbra asked as the man scrubbed his eyes and tried not to sniffle,              "I'm fine. I'm done for the night." he told the rabbit through guilt-clenched teeth, getting up from the floor,              "You know it's normal for you to influence the thoughts of someone else the first time you try. It takes practice to st-"               "FUCK OFF UMBRA." Ace snapped, snarling at the black-furred rabbit until the creature melted back into the shadows. After that, the white haired boy stayed inside and just shoved away the memories he'd dug up by mistake.

[romanceismycallingcard]

I just drank coffee so I could supposedly stay up later and maybe get some homework I've been procrastinating on done but I think it made me even more sleepy 😴 ugh

[strugglingartistno16]

No Matter What

A/N: Hi love, I hope that you’ll enjoy this. And good luck with your exams! 💜

Pairing: None, just some OT7 quality time

Genre: Fluff, fluffier, this... and a pinch of angst oops

Warnings: Jimin and Jin being lil bitches, a bit of fighting, self doubt

Wordcount: 2552

Masterlist

The yellow of the setting sun began to mix with the bright blue of the sky as the last beat echoed through the practice room, slowly getting lost in the heavy panting of the seven men who were tiredly staring at one another through the oblong mirror in front of them.

“All right boys,” The dance instructor called out while clapping his hands with great satisfaction. His gaze wandered around the room, cautiously inspecting each, and every one of them. “You did well today, enjoy your well-deserved free evening. We’re done.”

A fatigued groan escaped from Jimins’ lips as he walked towards his bag, taking the drenched towel from its’ top and wiping his equally wet face with it. His eyes met Namjoons’, who gave him an encouraging smile while continuously arguing with Yoongi about the new song they were currently working on. As his eyes kept on looking around the room, catching a glimpse of Jungkook who asked Hoseok whether his dancing had improved since the last dance practice, he suddenly felt an all too well-known itch in his nose, and before he could stop himself, sneeze after sneeze erupted from his worn out body.

It was a lie if one would say that the others didn’t jump up at the sudden noise that came from the young man. Jin simply stared at him with wide eyes as he counted the seemingly never-ending sneezes on his hand.

“Seven times!” He exclaimed while holding the equivalent amount of his fingers up in the air. “Jiminie, that must be a new record.” Jin laughed while patting the younger ones’ shoulder in playful appreciation.

“This is not funny, hyung.” Jimin whined, nervously shrugging off the eldest hand. “I never sneeze this much!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as he mimicked his action, quickly pulling his shoulders up before letting them fall while scrolling through his phone. “Maybe you caught a cold, it’s not the end of the world.” Raising an eyebrow, he averted his eyes from the device in his hands, cocking his head towards Jimin. “The reservation is on, are you still coming?”

A long-held tradition among the seven members was to visit one of their favorite restaurants in Korea before traveling to another country. And since they would fly out to America in a couple of days to perform at a Talk Show, they had a reservation at the small barbeque place a few streets away.

Now it was Jimins’ turn to repeat after his hyung, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he quickly retorted, “Of course, I’m coming along, hyung. And I am not sick.” He added, putting great emphasis on the ‘not’.

After this, they all headed towards the black vans that were parked in front of the building, already waiting for the seven men. Jimin replayed his brothers’ words in his head one more time, frowning at his suspicion. He wasn’t sick, it was all but impossible for him to have gotten sick just before the big performance. Not that it was unusual for him to have this sort of luck, since it wouldn’t be the first time for him to have to cancel a performance due to his own body giving up on him. But this time would be different, this time it had to be different.

As he tried to shake off the negative thoughts that spread through his head like a wild fire, he quickly jumped into the back of the car, squeezing in between Taehyung and Jungkook who were having a heated discussion about the empty box of cereal that the elder one of them had supposedly finished without the consent of the younger.

Jimin tried to relax in his seat, trying to fully concentrate on his friends. But it wasn’t until they were all seated at the round wooden table in the restaurant and their food sitting in front of them that Jimin noticed how he might not be feeling as well as he wished.

All he did was push his food around his bowl, quietly sitting amongst the other members who happily ate and drank while – inevitably – discussing the upcoming performance, much to Jimins’ dismay. He tried to convince himself that he was feeling fine, but as time passed his eyelids began to feel heavy and it seemed as if he might fall asleep in his chair at any given second.

It probably would have happened if Namjoon suddenly hadn’t put his hand on the younger ones’ shoulder with such a force, that he teared the tired man from his drowsy state in a mere second. Jimin jolted up, almost jumping from his seat as he stared at the second oldest with wide, questioning eyes.

This only made Namjoon more concerned, as he worried about his younger brothers’ well-being. “Is everything alright?” He asked him, trying to hide the concern in his voice with a sheepish smile. “You haven’t eaten anything at all, and you seem to be really exhausted.”

Jimin simply shrugged his hyungs’ comment off while forcing down another bite of his food to soothe his concern. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s exhausted, dance practice was tough.”

As for now, Namjoon accepted his answer but Jimin knew that he had to pull himself together so he wouldn’t raise any more suspicion.

After another had passed, Hoseok suggested that they should head home, as everyone was too tired to stay up any longer and nobody protested. As soon as they arrived at their dorm, the seven quickly scattered to their rooms, each of them wanting to finally be able to savor their well-deserved privacy and sleep after such a particularly harsh day.

However, as soon as Jimin entered his room, quickly changing into his pajamas and laying down onto his cozy bed, it seemed as if someone had turned a switch, his mind suddenly wide awake as the tiredness from before suddenly vanished into nothingness. In exchange for his sleepiness, his body swapped it for a throbbing head and a dried out, itchy throat.

The temperature in the room must’ve dropped by a couple degrees as the blanked that Jimin tried to bury himself in appeared to be as thin as a sheet of rice paper, his body helplessly shaking from the sudden chilliness. Jimin tossed and turned in his bed, and few groans escaped from his lips before he inevitably sat up in frustration.

What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he worked any harder than the other members or did anything extraordinarily demanding which now forced his body to a response like that. Angry with himself and his body, Jimin tried to stand up from his bed, grabbing onto a nearby chair as a wave of nausea hit him. Maybe a glass of water would help.

With a new goal in mind, he quietly shuffled into the kitchen, so he wouldn’t wake up any of the sleeping members. His eyes took longer than usual to adjust to the bright lights, but he ignored the sting in his head as he grabbed a mug from one of the cupboards, again not paying any attention the way that his muscles ached under the simple task.  He turned on the faucet and let the water stream into the empty glass, his gaze fixating on the white tiles in front of him.

What if he was sick? Would he still be able to perform at the show? They had a few hours of singing lessons on the next day, that’s where he would find out whether his voice would be too strained to sing. But, of course, it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

“Yah! What are you doing?” The sudden noise tore Jimin from his thoughts, as he turned around in surprise.

“Jin-hyung.” Jimin tiredly mumbled, staring at the eldest in confusion. “I just wanted to –“ He began as he turned back to his glass of water. It was full to the brim, now overflowing and spilling into the sink and onto the sleeve of Jimins’ shirt.

“Enough.” Jin interrupted him, quickly closing off the faucet in annoyance. “What’s going on with you?”

Jimin averted his eyes from the drink, leaving the glass to sit in the sink as he hung his head low. When he didn’t respond, Jin moved towards him, resting the backside of his hand on the younger ones’ forehead.

“You’re burning up.” He softly mumbled, lifting Jimins’ head up to he could catch a glimpse of his face. “Jimin, you’re sick. Go to bed, I’ll make you some soup.”

Furrowing his eyebrows in desperation, Jimin threw his hands up in the air, staring at his friend in anger. “I am not sick! I’m just tired from practice, that’s all.”

“You have a fever. Please, Jimin go to bed.”

Keeping his glaring eyes focused on the eldest, Jimin shook his head in frustration. “I am fine, Jin-hyung. How can you even tell that I’m sick?” Before Jin could answer, Jimin kept on rambling, “See, you can’t! I am not sick and I will go to practice tomorrow and then I’ll come with you to America and perform at the show and –“

“Would you even listen to yourself?” Jin angrily interrupted the worn-out man in front of him. “This is ridiculous! You’re either going back to bed on your own or I swear to god, I’ll single handedly carry you to that stupid room of yours and lock you in there until you finally get it into that thick scull of yours that you, Jimin, are sick.”

Without another word, Jimin stormed past his brother, hastily walking back into his bedroom while throwing himself into his bed. Immediately, his head began to throb once again, and his throat was hurting more than ever after the short argument.

“Unbelievable.” He mumbled to himself, angrily crossing his arms in front of his chest. Suddenly, his body got covered in goosebumps as the chilly air in his room crept into his bones. A long sigh escaped from his lips, as he stared at the numbers on his clock.

It was one in the morning and he was still not able to fall asleep. The tired mans’ eyes began to sting at the thought of him accepting his fate. That he was sick and would not be able to join his fellow band members in America. That they would perform at the Talk Show without him and that he would stay back in Korea, laying in his stupid bed while sulking at the thought of his stupid body giving up on him once again when he needed it the most.

His thoughts were interrupted be the silent creek of his bedroom door opening and Jimin was ready to tell Jin off when two other black-haired men cautiously peeked into the dim room. Taehyung and Jungkook carefully snuck his bedroom, focusing their gaze onto the elder member as they both were holding onto a few blankets.

Taehyung was the first one to speak up, quietly approaching Jimin who stared at them in confusion. “We heard your fight with Jin-hyung.” He mumbled.

“So, we brought you our favorite blankets. Since, you know, you’re sick and stuff.” Jungkook sheepishly continued while taking a seat on the bed.

Jimin was about to protest when the door opened once more and a rather worried looking Hoseok peeked through the open crack. “Hey!” He exclaimed as he looked at his three friends. “You’re having a sleep-over without me?”

Hoseok stepped into the room, a steaming mug in his hands that smelled heavenly, as he took a seat on the other side of Jimins bed. “I brought you a cup of tea with some honey in it. Jin-hyung told me that it would help with the sore throat.” He informed the younger one as he carefully handed him the hot beverage.

“How did he know?” Jimin mumbled as he sniffed at the tea in his hands, cautiously taking a small sip and immediately feeling better at the warm feeling that spread inside of his body.

Hoseok shrugged his shoulders, simply giving Jimin a telling grin. “I guess he just knows. Listen, I overheard your fight.” He began as Taehyung finally took a seat beside Jungkook after he was finished draping the blankets over the sick member. “Jin is still a bit mad, but he’s working on the soup. Much to his dismay Namjoon decided to help him. Yoongi went into town to get you some cough syrup and something against the fever. He insisted on it, since we’re out of anything like that.”

Jimin slowly nodded with his head, taking in Hoseoks’ words and the sight in front of him. Once again, his eyes began to feel watery as he eyed his friends who watched him with worry in theirs. All of them cared so deeply about him, they went out of their way to help him even after such an exhausting day. There was nothing more in this world that Jimin wanted, except for his six brothers to stay by his side for as long as possible.

“Thank you.” He managed to choke out, unable to say more without bursting into tears. “Maybe I am sick.” He finally admitted, but the confession made his shoulders slump and head hang low in frustration. Did this mean that he would not be able to perform?

“That’s totally okay!” Jungkook quickly retorted as he caught onto his friends disappointed body language. “We’ll fix you up in no time.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. The show is still a couple of days away and Jin told me that you might only have a minor cold. Talking of the devil –“ Hoseok chuckled as the door opened and an annoyed looking Jin entered the room with a steaming plate of soup in his hands while a nervous looking Namjoon shortly followed behind. His thumb was bandaged and Jimin was sure that he must’ve messed up in the kitchen, but the thought only made the smile that had appeared on his face turn bigger.

His brothers really did anything to make him better. Even if it meant that they would injure themselves or stay up until one in the morning.

“Here you go.” Jin said, flashing the younger one a warm smile as he placed the hot dish on his bedside table.

Jimin almost wouldn’t have noticed Yoongi, who sneaked into the room, quietly rambling to Namjoon and furiously showing him the various boxes of medicine he had acquired. “I didn’t know which one to buy, so I got all of them. This one says that he has to take it four times a day and it’s supposed to be really effective, but this one tastes like strawberry, so I think it’s going to be better for him.” He explained while Namjoon suspiciously eyed the different boxes.

Jimin let out a small chuckle while letting his gaze wander around the room, before his eyes finally landed on Jin. “Thank you. I’m sorry for my dumb behavior in the kitchen.” He apologized at the oldest, holding his hand out so he would grab it.

Jin quickly took it, giving it a light squeeze before smiling at his brother once again. “It’s alright Jimin. Don’t worry, we’re always going to be there for you, no matter what.”

[laurelsofhighever]

Chapters: 43/70 Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Chapter Rating: T Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU, Alternate Universe - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining

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Twenty-first day of Harvestmere, 9:32 Dragon

Alistair read the letter, and again. He drank in the sight of the handwriting, the neat arches and graceful lines of every word, so familiar and so long missed. At first, he had been so eager to see his name in Rosslyn’s hand, to make sure it really was her, his mind had skittered over the letter’s contents, his fingers trembling as he held it to the light. Slowly, however, her words had sunk in, her tone, the hurt hidden behind the formality of her farewell, and his breath stuck in his chest as the full, awful implications of everything crashed down around him.

“Alistair?”

Duncan stood on the other side of the small room, one side of his face cast in the glow of the coal fire, and the other in darkness. Even in the low light, his worry showed clearly on his face, in the lines that had deepened and spread since Alistair had last seen him. He had yet to change out of his travel-stained cloak and boots, and yet, despite the lateness of the hour, the line of his shoulders betrayed no fatigue.

“All this time, I thought…” Alistair scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ve been a fool.”

“I doubt the matter is as simple as that,” Duncan allowed. “Especially given the look on Teyrna Cousland’s face when she handed me that letter.”

Alistair snapped to face his old mentor. “You’ve seen her? How did she seem? Was she alright?” He snorted and glanced down. “No, that’s a stupid question. And it’s all my fault.”

“She looked strained from battle,” came the steady reply, “and I suspect other things about which it would not be my place to ask.”

With a growl, Alistair turned away from the fire to pace, the last of his sleepiness draining away in his agitation. All this time. When he had been woken in the middle of what passed for the night so far underground, hustled into breeches and a loose shirt to cover his decency, he had dreaded another uprising, or an alarm that the magma river was flooding – anything other than a weary Grey Warden acting as a messenger for someone he had thought abandoned him months ago. He should have known better, should have known her better.

His eyes fell to the letter again. It was like picking at a scab, the itch to keep digging even as the skin blotched around the wound and blood welled fresh from ruptured veins. Her mention of the ‘path’ he had supposedly chosen left him cold with a dread he couldn’t define, but worse than that was the damned pride he read in the words she omitted, the ire of a spurned noblewoman who had flinched from rejection and shielded herself in duty to keep the grief at bay. From the news that had arrived through the messenger relay days before, the battle at South Reach would have proven a perfect ground for martyrdom. And he had done nothing.

“I will help in any way I can, but it would be easier if I knew what was going on,” Duncan tried, breaking into his wandering thoughts with the same patience he had once used to teach swordwork with sticks. He raised his eyebrows when Alistair huffed and passed him the letter to read, but Wardens by nature were discreet, and he scanned the more personal parts without comment. “It would seem your correspondence has been intercepted.”

“I should have realised! Why did I let myself get so distracted with everything going on here? All these – these history lessons and trade negotiations and – and fancy dinners! I should have known something was wrong, tried harder – something!”  

“Dwelling on past mistakes will not help the present,” the Warden pointed out. “Now that you do know, what will you do?”

“Banging my head against the wall is tempting,” Alistair muttered, but he sighed and shook his head. “I guess the first thing to do would be to work out who’s responsible for this, but that’s not exactly easy. A hundred things could have happened on the road from here to Cailan’s camp.” Frowning, he shoved a hand backwards through his hair. “Besides, who would even have a reason to…”

He went still.

He turned, and marched. The guards assigned to his quarters jerked awake as the door smashed open against the wall, but he ignored their cries of protest. Cool air whipped against his face. His bare feet slapped against the polished stone floor, with Duncan’s quieter, more measured step following close behind. The Warden seemed content to let him lead the way through the maze of tunnels that made up King Bhelen’s palace, and he was glad not to have to stop to answer questions. Anger burned in him like lightning, crackling through his nerves, echoing the thunder-boom of his pulse, a tempest sustained and growing wilder with every step he took towards Eamon’s rooms.

The old man’s door was an elegant face of petrified wood banded together with silver in intricate geometric patterns. The latch cracked when Alistair kicked it open.

“What – Your Highness!” The arl’s valet shuffled out to greet him from the antechamber he had been assigned as quarters, gummy-eyed and in nothing but a long nightshirt. “Is something the matter?”

Alistair ignored him, already halfway across the room.

“You cannot – my lord is sleeping!”

He threw the doors of the bedchamber with such force they crashed off the walls and shook on their hinges. In the centre of the wide, low bed, Eamon stirred under heavy sheets, rousing with a confused grumble that slackened to dumb surprise when he realised the source of the commotion.

“Get up,” Alistair snarled.

The old arl blinked and began to slowly pull back the covers. “Is all well, Your Highness?”

“Where are the letters?”

“I’m sure I don’t know –”

“The letters Teyrna Rosslyn sent to me!” Alistair shouted. “The ones that never arrived. What have you done with them?”

Eamon stilled at that. He turned, a new wariness in his expression as he measured the fury on Alistair’s face, and the Grey Warden standing implacable in the shadows behind him.

“So you do know what I’m talking about. I suggest you get out of that bed before I drag you out of it.”

With a heavy breath that whistled through his nose, Eamon swung his legs to the floor, wincing as his joints creaked, and waited for his valet to appear with his dressing gown. Not once did he look towards the doorway as his arms were threaded through the sleeves, or when he gestured to the ewer on the nightstand for a glass of water.

“Perhaps you should ask your captain to make a search of these rooms?” Duncan suggested lightly. “It might speed things up.”

Alistair glanced to him, one eyebrow raised. “Good idea. Mhairi should be –”

“There is no need,” the old man snapped, with a final wave to dismiss the servant as he stood to face his intruders. “Yes, I know which letters you wish to see – what if I told you I’d burned them?”

“I’d think you were lying,” Alistair replied, his face carefully blank of the sudden hope that flared through his chest at the unexpected confession. “You’re smarter than that, and you’re not the sort of person to throw away something that might be useful. You proved that with me ten years ago.”

The arl lifted his chin in a familiar look of disappointment. “Everything I have done – all I have ever done – has been what I thought in your best interest, and the interests of Ferelden. I took you in, sheltered you under my own roof –”

“I remember, in the kennels. I was there at the time. Where are the letters?”

A tense moment passed between them, one that only ended when Alistair huffed and turned to Duncan, the location of Mhairi’s room ready to fall off his tongue. His meaning was clear, and Eamon relented. He stumped towards the desk Bhelen had provided him and moved a stack of papers off a small box, then reached into a side drawer for a key. The lock clicked and the lid popped open with a squeak of stiff hinges, and with pursed lips the arl drew out two stacks of letters wrapped up in plain string and tossed them on the desk.

“Even this, I did to protect you from yourself. I care about your wellbeing, even if you find that difficult to believe. It would be foolish for you to throw yourself away on something that cannot be.”

Heart racing, Alistair stumbled forward. There were his letters, still sealed, bearing her name across the envelope in the broad, blocky handwriting Brantis had tried so hard to refine. He had passed them to Eamon to send with the rest of the missives to the king’s camp, had trusted every time that the messenger took care, had been lied to when he had asked and told they were received. Anger plucked at him again, so strong he had to clench his fists against it, but then his gaze slid to the second stack, the one with his name on the front, and a shiver crawled across his skin. Without a word he snatched them up, ran his thumb along the edges, counting. His hands shook. Over a dozen. Proof she never stopped caring, that he might be able to mend things between them if only he could get the chance. He looked up to blink away the sting at the corner of his eyes, and found Eamon watching him like a kitchen rat eyeing the actions of the cook.

“What’s the real reason?” he asked, cold. “Did you worry she’d influence me too much? Or maybe this has something to do with your ridiculous scheme to get Rosslyn to marry Cailan? If you think she’ll let herself be made into a pawn for someone else’s gain, you seriously underestimate her. She doesn’t care for Cailan, not like that.” At least he hoped not.  

The patient expression vanished in a sneer. “Foolish boy. Her Ladyship is a noblewoman, born and bred for politics. Do you really think if the choice came, she would turn away from her duty to her people? You have proved selfish at every turn, and stubborn as your father with your insistence on ignoring what is right in front of you. I thought if I separated that link, if I discouraged the connection, then you might come to see for yourself that the advantages –”

“This was never just about Rosslyn.” The realisation struck Alistair like a blow – the ‘path’ in Rosslyn’s letter… “Valesh – you want me to marry Valesh.”

“I hope you don’t object to her based on the fact she’s a dwarf?” the old man drawled.

“That’s what all the trade negotiations hang on, isn’t it? That’s the real reason we haven’t been getting anywhere. It’s all been a ruse to keep me here and make me forget everything else.”

“Are you saying you haven’t enjoyed the time you’ve spent with Her Highness?”

Alistair’s grip tightened on the letters in his hand. He had never wanted so badly to lash out, to hurt, and he wasn’t sure what kept him rooted to the floor. Teagan had warned him back in Aeylesbide about opportunistic nobles – Rosslyn herself had told him to be careful of Eamon’s motives – and now the figure that had seemed so large and intimidating when he was a child was revealed as nothing more than an old man scrabbling to cling to power.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“Of course.” Eamon bowed his head. “When we have wrapped up matters –”

“No, we’re leaving now.” He turned and snapped at the valet, who shuffled forward with a nervous bow.

“Your Highness?”

“Wake everyone up, have Captain Mhairi tell them to start packing.”

“What? But…” His voice trailed into silence in the face of Alistair’s glare. With an uncertain glance towards Eamon, he bobbed again and hurried out.

“This is a rash course of action, even for you,” the arl warned as Alistair and Duncan both turned for the door. “You are throwing away a chance for a lasting treaty with Orzammar, something not even your father achieved. How will you explain this to King Bhelen?”

“You can tell Bhelen whatever you like,” Alistair ground out, then halted. “In fact, no. Tell him Cailan has requested our presence and that owing to the constraints of war it would be… it would be dishonest to make promises we cannot be sure of keeping. Once we win, we can place an ambassador here permanently. A proper one. But I will not be marrying his sister. And you,” he added, throwing a narrow glance over his shoulder, “had better hope I can fix whatever damage you’ve done with these.”

He stalked out, once more with Duncan following, but he didn’t care about that. The further away he got from Eamon, the more his attention bled to the stacks of letters still clutched in his hand. After so long, even the stretch to his room seemed too far, and it took all of his restraint not to break into a run, or to simply set his back against the nearest wall and break the seals right there. But then, what if the only thing in them was more heartbreak? He had missed her so much, the absence a constant ache beneath his ribs, and the sudden thought that he might have found her voice again only to have it tell him he wasn’t worth the effort brought him stumbling to a halt. She thought he intended to marry Valesh, that he had abandoned her – what if she, too, had chosen the more political path in response?

“You were almost happy a moment ago,” came Duncan’s quiet voice at his side. They had almost reached his chambers.

“It’s just – it’s been so long, and I don’t know what she’ll say – what she has said.” He chewed his lip, swallowing past the new lump in his throat.

The old Warden lay a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve come a long way, Alistair, and grown into a fine man. Whatever happens, I am sure you will handle it.” He sighed. “I have business to attend to here, and you have to catch up on some reading, so this is farewell for now.”

“Will I see you before we leave?”

Duncan merely offered him a smile as he bowed and strode away.

--

As the hours passed, the noise outside Alistair’s quarters grew as the household awoke, but the commotion passed him by. Still in his sleeping clothes, he lay on his bed, too wrung out to move even as far as the water pitcher on the dresser to quench his thirst. He had dismissed Marten to help with the packing and shut himself away, with the packet still tied with string on the mattress in front of him and his heart fast and shallow in his throat. When he had finally, shakily broken the seal on the first of Rosslyn’s letters, the words had tumbled through his hands like a gale of autumn leaves, each one devoured as if they were kindling. He read her relief, her confusion, her worry, her rage and despair and resignation in such swift succession that he was left blinking back tears and cursing Eamon and his own stupidity all over again. A second time, and he had to pause every few sentences with the paper pressed against his heart. As his own relief washed through his limbs, however, it was chased by hollow desperation because despite these being her words, her thoughts, after so long such closeness wasn’t close enough. His hands itched to be around her, his lips tingled with remembered kisses, and when he scrunched his eyes shut he imagined the smooth glide of her fingers ghosting over the back of his neck.

He read again, and it didn’t help.

Someone knocked on his door. Startled, he gathered the letters into a neat pile and roughed a hand through his hair, swiping his palm across his cheeks, aware enough of his dishevelled state to throw a robe over his sparse attire as he padded over to see who it was.

Valesh stood in the antechamber, dressed in her usual finery, with powdered gold dusting her cheeks and jewels glittering in her ears. Her eyes, however, were rimmed red, and she twisted one of her rings around her finger rather than look at him.

“I heard the news,” she said.

He bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“Can I come in?”

Sighing, he stepped aside so she could pass, but the letters were still on his bed, out in the open where she might glance at them, and now that he knew about Eamon’s plans, having her in his private space left a wriggle of discomfort snaking in his gut.

“I have to ask,” he blurted. “Did you know? About Eamon wanting us together?”

She nodded. “I did. My brother told me after our first meeting that I should woo you.”

That rage again, that disgust at being manipulated and being too oblivious to notice. “Well it’s nice to know you were all in on the little joke,” he snapped.

“That’s not –”

“Let’s all watch Alistair trip over himself – because it’s not amusing enough to dress him up as a prince and make him be a diplomat!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Valesh cried. “I enjoyed spending time with you. I liked how you treated me, and I liked all the things you taught me. I hoped… but I knew you wouldn’t agree to what they wanted.”

He turned. “What do you mean?”

“Are those her letters?” Her gaze softened as he took a protective step towards the bed. “You get a faraway look in your eyes whenever you talk about her. In another life, my brother’s plan might have worked, but that look…” She sighed. “Besides, given the choice, you’re not quite my type.”

“Too tall?”

“Too male.”

“Ah.” He glanced to the bed, to the letters, and his voice turned to steel. “Eamon intercepted them. She thinks I haven’t been writing to her for months, and I thought the same of her, and – Maker, she thinks I hate her.”

“That was cruel. I didn’t know – I swear it on the Stone.” A breath, and an unsteady smile. “It’s probably for the best things turned out this way. If you had stayed here, you would have been condemned to a lifetime of hitting your head on door lintels. And that’s besides all the snide remarks you’d get for being a human. No matter what Bhelen is trying to change.”

He saw it clearly then, how their match would have worked on both sides to be rid of an inconvenient problem. For Bhelen, wanting to secure his rule, marrying his sister to foreign royalty would remove a rival, and any political manoeuvring to try and displace him in favour of Valesh’s heirs. And as for Eamon, what better way to keep his influence on the throne than by burying the king’s brother under a mountain and getting a peace treaty in return?

“What will you do?” Valesh asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“I’ll find her,” he answered. “Beg her forgiveness for not realising sooner what’s been going on. Hope she gives me another chance.” But that only answered half the question. “What about you?”

She shrugged, once more playing with her ring. “My brother would have me stay and be a trophy for whoever gains his favour, but I’m not sure I care for that idea as much I once did. You taught me that there’s more to life than accepting what it gives you, and… I want to see the sky.” She smiled. “I’ve spoken to Duncan – the Warden-Commander. He invoked the Rite of Conscription for Brosca, and I’ve persuaded him to do the same for me.”  

“Being a Warden is a hard life.”

“But I’d be doing good,” she insisted. “Not just sitting around here twirling my hair while half the noble caste slavers after me. This is the only way I can leave with my brother’s standing intact. And I can fight.” She sighed. “I came to tell you goodbye, and good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

He nodded, sorry for something he couldn’t define. “You too. Duncan’s a good man, and you’ll get to travel the world with the Wardens. You’ll have to write and tell me what Weisshaupt is like.”

“I will.”

There was no point in her staying after that. They shared an awkward goodbye at his door just in time for Marten to return and tell him Mhairi’s preparations would only take a few more hours, that they could be ready to go by early afternoon.

“You ought to get some rest while you can, Your Highness,” his valet suggested. “And… perhaps a sluice as well?”

Frowning, Alistair sniffed at his armpit. “It would be a shame to waste the hot water while we still have it,” he mused, “but there’s still time.” Tiredness itched at his eyes. He hadn’t realised how far into the morning it was, how long he had been awake. It would be a long march east once they reached the surface again, and he had a feeling that when they were finally on the move, trepidation might stop him getting much sleep at all.

[absentauthor]

Halloween Homebody: Part 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Just when you think your Halloween can't get any worse, Bucky shows up at your door. . .drunk on Asgardian mead. This was gonna be one hell of a hangover.

Warnings: A lil’ angsty, a lil’ fluffy. Drunk Bucky (I don’t know if that’s a real warning, but I’ll put it). Some making out (nothing really smutty).

Words: 2000+

Part 1

You weren't one of those people who got tired when they were sad. You wished you were, sleeping it off was oh-so tempting, but you were wired.

Already back in your pajamas and finishing off Halloween (after Jennifer's Body and As Above/So Below), you felt like you were going over where you went wrong over and over. You had misread a signal. . .but where?

You felt like you were going over every interaction you and Bucky had ever had with a fine tooth comb.

It was keeping you up. You decided movies weren't going to lull you to asleep as thoroughly in your current state. You opted instead to curl up with your worn copy of Coraline and try to pretend that the pages weren't tear-stained.

That was when a knock came on your door.

Obviously, you were a little wary. Doors and Coraline will do that to a person, but you stood to answer it anyway.

Rubbing your now makeup-free, tear-streaked cheeks, you opened the door.

Only to find yourself face to face with the person you'd like to see less than the Other Mother at the moment; Bucky Barnes.

"Hiya, doll!"

Still in the army uniform, only more disshelved, he was glassy-eyed, sporting his supposedly long-lost Brooklyn accent and a little bit of a sway in his walk as he stepped passed you. Leaving you with only one logical conclusion.

"Are you drunk?" You asked, dumbfounded. 

Super-soldiers were supposed to be immune to alcohol. They could get buzzed, but not drunk. Steve always joked about it. Although, having a grinning Bucky standing in front of you, messy haired and bouncing, you were starting to believe there was an exception to the rule.

You asked again, "Bucky, are you drunk?"

"No! No! No!" He stated, shaking his head with each word.

"Why'd you say it three times?"

"Because there are currently three of you and I didn't want one feeling left out."

Oh, definitely an exception to the rule.

He plopped down on the edge of your bed, kicking his feet up childishly.

"Thor had this drink, right. And it was sooo good. So, so good. I just kept drinkin' it."

You pinched the space between your eyebrows. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Kidding! I'm not kidding. Unless you want to be kidding, than doll we can kid as much as you want," he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and a little self-satisfied chuckle.

Your jaw dropped and you were certain your cheeks were warm. Damn it, that shouldn't be cute!

"Was that meant to be a euphemism?"

"Euph...a...euph-a-what?"

His look of confusion was too cute for you to describe.

You sighed. Your night had taken yet another turn. You couldn't just kick him out. He was still your friend. It wasn't his fault you had changed your mindset, begun to see him in a different light. He saw you as a friend and he had come to you when he needed help. You couldn't abandon him on his time of need.

"Take off that uniform, Sarge."

His grin was in megawatt territory as he clumsily began unbuttoning buttons and unzippering zippers.

"Yes, ma'am!"

You buried your face in you hands, "Underwear and undershirt stay on, Lothario!"

His pout is nothing short of a petulant child. 

Jesus, you were screwed. Your night had definitely taken a turn for the unknown. Good or bad, who knew in the Twilight Zone? At least you still had jokes. Mostly.

___

Bucky was a talkative, energetic drunk. It had taken about an hour to get him into your bed. And yes, that sounded dirty, but it wasn't.

Because there's really nothing dirty about a tossing and turning Bucky, shaking your bed every two seconds trying to get comfortable while you're trying to read.

"Bucky, stop moving."

He huffed, stilling beside you and taking to staring at you while you read. You could feel his eyes on you, even with your trained on the page in front of you. You tried to ignore the warmth you felt with his gaze on you, but it was near impossible. You slammed your book shut.

"Bucky, stop staring!"

That made him laugh. Then hiccup. Damn, how could one be a cute drunk?

"But doll, I just wanna look at ya. You're so damn gorgeous, I can't help myself." Apparently, Drunk Bucky giggles like a kid when he's adamant.

You frown. He couldn't have meant that and you couldn't shut him down completely. He wasn't all there. He couldn't be responsible for what he said. Even if it made your heart want to beat out of your chest.

"Go to sleep," you said, more gruffly than you intended to.

"Did I upset you?" He asked naively, tone rising involuntarily. "I did. I'm a clingy drunken lug, aren't I? I made ya mad!"

He smacks a palm to his forehead and it's almost comical. You can't stay. . .whatever you were before there was a drunken dork in your bed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ruined your Halloween," he almost blubbered, hand still over his face.

"Bucky, stop. You didn't ruin my night."

You unintentionally hurt my feelings, because I read more into an invitation you probably meant in friendship and arrived to see you kissing another girl. But you didn't ruin my night.

"You just wanted to stay home and I was pushin' you to go out and you didn't want to. And I was dumb enough to drown my sorrows about it and try to be nice like you and end up getting slobbered on by this girl. . ."

"Slobbered on?"

That didn't exactly sound like a passionate makeout.

"I think she meant to plant one on me, but she just kinda drooled and it was gross and I just drank more after that."

Oh, no.

"Well, that wasn't responsible."

You weren't sure how respond when you knew what was coming. You didn't want to know what Bucky and frilly-maid girl got up to, but it looked like you were going to get a crash course.

Then, a surprise. "I didn't wanna kiss 'er. She didn't really wanna kiss me either. She was just hurtin'."

"Sounds like you two had quite the rapport."

"No, we just talked. You know I don't like that rapping stuff."

Oh, naive and drunk Bucky. He stressed you out and made you laugh all without even trying. Especially when he rambled. It was so uncharacteristic of the usual Bucky, who was usually so quiet and humble and often listening to you ramble.

This was a nice change, even if he was about to tell you about his makeout session with a drooling girl.

"She was upset. She got stood up. She was crying. I didn't know what to do." And the surprises just kept coming. "So, I asked myself what you would do."

Your surprise couldn't have been subtle. You probably looked like a puppy, cocking your head to the side in a questioning look. "You did?"

"Uh-huh. And I bought her her drink and listened to her when she talked. Cuz you're real good at listenin' and she needed someone to and all she had was me."

You stayed quiet; it was all you could think to do.

“And she took it the wrong way and just...kissed me. I pushed her off and told her that I had you. Well, wanted you. She got mad. But I-I didn’t wanna kiss her, I wanted to kiss you.”

The tears came unwarranted. Maybe it was the overflow of emotions from earlier, or the manifestation of newer and happier ones, but soon enough you were sniffling once again, wiping the tears away and trying to keep quiet about it. It was no use. Even drunk, Bucky noticed.

"Are ya cryin'?" His voice was a groggy sort of panic you'd never heard. "Doll, please don't cry! You shouldn't cry ever!"

He reached for you, clumsily clutching your face in his large hands. You couldn't help but smile. It was watery and probably pretty ugly, but Bucky smiled that warm, dopey smile back at you anyway.

"You're the best. My best girl! I wanna be around you all the time. Wanna make ya laugh, hold your hand. . .kiss your pretty lookin' lips."

No matter how tempting it was, you knew the latter couldn't become a reality in that particular moment. Even if Bucky was closer, breathing your air, glancing down at your lips. He was of impaired judgement, not of sober mind.

With a steady breath, you pushed a hand against his chest, laying him back against your bed. He followed the pressure of your hand, resting back against the pillow again.

"Go to sleep, Bucky." You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "If you mean it tomorrow, you can plant one on me and I promise I won't slobber on you. Okay?"

"I'll still mean it tomorrow, doll." He chuckled, a smile still on his face as his eyes fell closed. "Happy Halloween."

He stayed facing you and you didn't turn away when you laid beside him.

"Happy Halloween, you drunken lug."

You drifted off into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

___

The next morning, you woke up earlier to make sure you had sole control over the coffee maker. You left a snoring Bucky in your bed, pretending he wasn't the most entrancing person you'd ever had in your bed.

Coffee. A more cohesive focus, even in the wake of a night like the one before.

You tried to keep your expectations low, not let your imagination run wild. You always had your disappointing endings to Halloween and you were almost certain this one would make the list. Bucky was drunk. He probably wouldn't even remember everything that happened, much less what he said to you. 

It didn't take long for you to head the telltale pad of footsteps and you pretended that your heart had taken up residence in your throat. You didn't even know if it was him and you were almost gasping.

But then, Bucky was there. Complete with bedhead and furrowed brows, a picture of sleepy-eyed determination.

"Well, you look alive," you said nonchalantly, placing down your coffee mug. "No hangover?"

Your answer was a kiss.

He walked towards you with an air of a man on a mission and you felt like your mind was on delay. You had been caught up in some type of mental haze and soon enough Bucky's lips were on yours.

You could feel your eyes widen for a moment before you closed them, pressing into the kiss.It made your heart pound, your stomach flutter, and your lungs feel empty all at once.

When he pulled you closer at the waist and deepened the kiss, you were still having trouble remembering how normal people breathe. Not that you really cared too much. 

He pulled away. You didn't want him to, even though you were half-sure either your chest would collapse from lack of oxygen if you two continued.

"You kissed me," you managed, a little breathless. 

"Told you I'd still mean it in the morning, didn't I?"

He grin was infectious and you never guessed you'd get to taste his smile, but soon enough it was pressed against yours.

This kiss was more intense than the first and you couldn't help your gasp, nor your embarrassingly quick reaction time. You pressed into it, threading your hands through his hair.

You tugged a little on it when he gripped the back of your thighs, earning a soft groan as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. You linked you ankles behind his back, pulling him close and kissing him back as intensely as he was kissing you. You were breathless, even light-headed, but you were also sure that you could kiss Bucky like that for the rest of your life and die happy.

He pulled away, damn him, resting his forehead against yours. 

"Be my girl, doll. Go on a date with me. No group things, no parties. Just you and me."

"Kiss me like that Barnes and you can take me anywhere," you laughed, brushing his hair back from his face.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Even a Halloween party?"

You rolled your eyes, leaning in closer to him.

"Ask me next year,” you said softly, lips brushing over Bucky’s.

"I'll hold you to it."

All seemed to be right with the world. . .until Sam happened into the kitchen.

You pulled away from a reluctant Bucky, almost laughing when you spotted the

Part stunned and part annoyed, Sam walked over to the batch of cookies you'd left on the counter. He scooped up the tray without a word, staring you straight in the eye.

"Let me have the tray and I won't tell you why it's ten times of wrong that you’re mackin' on Barnes where we break bread!”

___

A/N: I was super surprised that so many of you liked Halloween Homebody! I based it loosely off my own Halloween experiences the past couple years and I was just really surprised so many people liked it. Writing part 2 was a lot of fun! Drunk Bucky was a bit of a delight to write, honestly. Feedback is always appreciated and I am gonna open my inbox up to requests for oneshots or drabbles, if anyone wants me to write something for them! Thanks so much for reading and Happy belated Halloween!

Disclaimer: I do not own any character that is a part of the MCU or Marvel universe.

Taglist: @stardustsoldierrook @lovely-geek @crazyminnesotagirl @karla-silva

[coffeeandyoongi]

ghostin’

Word count: 2.4k (it’s a one-shot, y’all) Summary: Hoseok was in love. You were also in love. Trigger warnings: angst, alcohol. 

Want to ask me about my work? This is my curious cat

Hoseok should have seen it coming. The first time he had seen you, he got that feeling. Something inside his head whispered it to him: “she’s going to break your heart into a million pieces and you’re gonna let her”. So he kept his distance. He listened to his friends talk about you. It was not as bad as he thought it would be. He got to touch the surface by just listening. This way, he learned about you; you painted with your fingers when you were stressed, you took pictures on your phone as if you were a professional, and one of the things that Hoseok found the most amusing; since your ex left you, you had started to go to clubs alone.

He tried to imagine you dancing alone, but it was useless. It did not matter how many times he had seen you in that coffee shop, all bright and flushed from the cruel weather, when he thought of you in the club, he just saw this lost silhouette in the crowd. He pictured you trying to dance by yourself, but finally giving up when the memories of your ex got too painful to bear.  

He did not want to ask questions. He knew that if he did, he would be entering this dangerous territory. Supposedly, it had been a rough breakup for you. As much as Hoseok ached to know, the only way would be by asking you directly. No one knew exactly what had happened between you two. You had assured to keep it under covers and your ex had never wanted to talk about it. He would change the story again and again and again. Hoseok’s friends told him all the versions: “they distanced from each other”, “he was too busy for a relationship, or wasn’t she?”, “he cheated”, “she cheated”, “they wanted to remain as friends”. Although he had no answers to why you had broken up, he knew that you were hurt. His friends would always talk about it. That was the Monday drill; you would order your coffee to go, and the second you stepped out, his friends would spill what they already knew. They would say that you were hurt, still not over him even when you promised that you were, that you would usually visit those places that meant a lot to you and your ex.

Hoseok was fast to notice that it was more than just interest in you, he had a crush on you. The more you went to the coffee shop, the more he liked you. Deep down, he knew that it was not okay to have a crush on an idealised version of you, but his friends would not shut up about you. Besides the usual chit-chat about you and your former boyfriend, they also talked about other aspects of your life. They talked about how wonderful your paintings were. They were even confused at the fact that even with just your fingers, you could create a work of art. One time, he had the pleasure to serve you your coffee. He had heard your voice, but never up this close. There was something about hearing it while watching your red tinted lips move in sync that made Hoseok reconsider his plan of keeping distance. Hoseok noticed the dry paint all over your hands. Pecks of pink, purple, blue and yellow on your wrists. That day, you stayed to drink your coffee. Hoseok would have never admitted it, but he may have messed up some orders because you looked way too pretty while drawing in your sketchbook.

So he kept on listening to everything his friends said about you. Some things he did not believe. Some things, he did.

By the fifth time he took your order, he concluded that he needed to get to know you. He was tired of just hearing from you by eavesdropping while he swept the floor. He actually wanted to hear you talking about yourself. He kind of wanted to you to talk until your mouth felt dry and you blushed and said something like “I’ve been talking about myself all afternoon. Tell me about you”. He wanted a date. He stopped to think if it was just curiosity in you or finding out which rumours were true and which were not, but he came to the conclusion that it was not what he wanted.

By the way his friends talked about you, you seemed like an almost mythical creature. Unreachable, hard to believe in your mere existence. To Hoseok’s surprise, when he approached you for the first time with a dumb excuse he had been planning for at least a week, you smiled and invited him to sit down with her. What was even more surprising was that it was so easy to talk to you. Anything was okay. Anything and everything Hoseok blurted was enough for you to start an actual and interesting conversation. It seemed like you did not run out of ideas, of topics, of words, of gesticulations.

You two became so close. Soon enough, Hoseok got to know your friends, some of your classmates from college, and even your mother.

“What superpower would you like to have?” He asked you while swallowing the last sip of beer in the bottle.

“Going back in time.”

The way Hoseok’s eyes lighted up when you said that was almost comical. He was fast to separate the bottle from his lips and smiled really big.

“Just going back in time? Make it big! You can see the future… Or even better: controlling time!”

It had been a long time since you had been with someone as positive as him. He made you feel like you could actually ask for those things, superpowers being only one of those. Questions of this kind (what kind, would you rather, what would do you if) had almost vanished a long time ago. Those famous if, the possibilities of something bigger than the reality you lived in and learned to love. It made you want to cry.

“Hey, Hoseok? Do you like someone?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Why aren’t you answering?”

Sometimes, you would slip out those little comments that made Hoseok ache. They were always blue, kind of like your paintings, and never complete. It did not take a lot of time for him to notice that the sleepier you were, the more information you would carelessly mumble.

It was near four in the morning when Hoseok decided to tuck you in bed. You had spent all night laughing and talking. Mostly laughing about nothing in particular. Even when you just drank two glasses of beer, you were so tired that you might as well have downed four bottles. He piggybacked you to your room (considering himself lucky since he didn’t come across security). Your roommate was nowhere to be seen. The only thing he could hear was your soft snorings coming from his back.

Carefully, Hoseok turned on the lamp on your nightstand and once you were in bed, with the covers hiding your small figure, he sat down next to you. He assumed you were just going to continue sleeping. He would watch over you, in case you threw up or something, but, as usual, you surprised him. Out of nowhere, you sat down, pushing the covers off of you and looked at him with hooded

“What?” Hoseok asked, chuckling.

“You’re here.”

“Yup. Not a hallucination yet.”

“You’re stayin’” you slurred.

Call him weird, call him melodramatic, but even while you were still in that state, he could see how surprised you were. It had not been the first time he did something good for you, minimally nice, and you reacted like he had brought the moon for you. Every time you did that, he was not sure how to proceed. He was surprised, of course, but it also made him feel like crying. You just made him want to cry.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

You closed your eyes. Hoseok assumed that you were too tired to even try to keep them open, but he figured that it would be easier this way. He had never been one of those persons that looked into someone else’s eyes so he could think of what to say… But with you, it was different. He could not ignore how hurt, yet touched, you sounded, you looked, whenever he did something remotely nice for you. Today, he could pretend as if the alcohol made your eyes glassy, yet he could not unsee it when you were too tired to leave your room and he would bring you some take-out without even asking your favourite because he already knew it. The look in your face was something else. He could see how grateful you were. He could hear it while you mumbled “thank you, Hoseokie” over and over again. However, he could also notice some sadness behind all that gratitude. He recognised it when you opened the door and stay there, dumbfounded, staring at the paper bags.

Had anyone, ever, done something nice for you?

That was he usually asked himself when you acted this way. He never had the heart to actually make that question, though. Considering your reactions, he believed he would not like the answer.

“I’m your friend. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit,” Hoseok said.

It seemed to have been what you wanted to hear. As soon as those words left his mouth, you let yourself fall on the bed once more. Your body bounced slightly against the mattress, Hoseok almost gasped, thinking that you were going to hurt yourself. You seemed unbothered. You made yourself comfortable, rolling on your side and resting your hands under your face. With a long sigh, you made him understand that it was time to sleep for you.

He wanted to caress your hair. He wanted you to wake up with his fingers in your hair so that you would melt under his touch. But he did not do that. He just stared. He convinced himself that if you were not drunk, he would not feel the need to stay.

He almost believed it.

“‘m sorry.”

A warm hand caressed his cheek. It was clumsy, and it was somehow hurting him, but Hoseok did not back off.

“You’re just drunk, no biggie.”

“I’m hurting Hoseok,” you murmured. And for a second, he thought you were talking to yourself, but your eyes were looking for his. He did not notice that he had been avoiding your gaze.

When he finally gave in, he came across those eyes; the watery ones.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It’s– it’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You too good t-to me… toooo good,” you laughed, a sleepy smile on your lips. “I forget– I forget boys aren’t that bad.”

Suddenly, you widened your eyes, staring at your own hand in disbelief.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ohhhh.. ‘m sooo sorry!” you repeated and drew your hand away from his face as if it burned. “I keep doin’ that, again and again ‘nd… again.”

Your drunk rumbling was just too funny. You looked absolutely horrified, worried, but Hoseok could not hold back a chuckle.

“Doing what?”

“‘urting Hoseokie.”

“You’re not, I promise.”

“No!” You shouted. “You-you… You say tha-t b-but not true. Y’ love me.”

And Hoseok knew that he should not hear anything you say while drunk. No drunk made sense. However, it was the first time you had ever said that word. That four lettered word. Love. Not even once had you ever said that. He knew you cared about your friends, your family and him, you made sure to show it in every way possible, you just never said it.

“Of course I l-love you,” he whispered, “you’re my friend, remember?”

After those words, Hoseok’s throat burned. Everything burned. His chest felt too heavy. No. His heart was too heavy for his chest. And it stung. He swallowed and swallowed. It was like his heart was on fire and it would melt his ribcage any moment now.

All because the l-word was too much for him to handle when it came to you. Anything related to that was just like confessing. Whenever you talked about love, about feelings, about one-night stands, Hoseok’s heartbeat rose to the sky. He felt trapped; as if you had discovered his biggest secret.

He was in love with you. But he knew you did not feel the same way.

“‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

At this point, he was not sure what you were talking about. You looked ashamed, but Hoseok did not know why. You had never done anything to him, not on purpose.

“Close your eyes,” he sighed and petted your hair. “I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

“Don’t.”

“Wha- why?”

“You’re hurting me.”

“How am I hurting you?”

“Y’re acting the way I wanted him to act,” you answered.

“Who?”

“My ex.”

Those words fell heavy on his chest. Or maybe it was the way you were looking at him; your eyes wide open, fearing that he might go away or get closer.

Countless times he had found himself thinking about your ex. He had never met him. Your former partner was barely a tall, gloomy silhouette that snaked his arms around you in Hoseok’s nightmares. Rumours say that you had not ended in such good terms as you always liked to say. But that was all you said about him.

And the worst part of all of this was that he was conflicted. Hoseok did not know if he wanted to hear you talk about your ex because there was a possibility of you still having feelings for him. Or maybe he had hurt you so much that he just did not want to hear you cry. He was not that strong, even if he wanted you to believe that.

“You remind me of ‘im.” Hoseok did not reply. “‘just wish I could love y’ the wa-ay I love ‘im. You woudn’ h’rt me, Seokie.”

And Hoseok wished he could say the same thing about you, but the truth was that you just hurt him as no one else had ever done. That was the moment when he understood what it felt to be you. To love someone that does not love you back and to stay in love, no matter how much it hurt.

[nekonojinsei]

A lazy Tuesday; making the most of my mid-year break

It’s currently 10:42 p.m. As usual, I’m sitting in front of my laptop, blogging. My two roommates are lying down on their beds, each preoccupied with her phone. Another day has passed.

I woke up at about 7 a.m. this morning. I even saw my roommate preparing to leave for work. I shall refer to her now as “Rin”. Rin has to get to work at 8 a.m., so she leaves one hour before to have leeway for travel. I didn’t get up immediately.

As usual, the first thing I did was check my phone. I always get a lot of notifications and messages upon waking up - chats from people I value the most, people reacting to memes I shared on Facebook, new shout outs and questions on Ask.fm, new likes on my Tumblr posts, new emails, group chat alerts for orgs I’m a member of, new Youtube videos uploaded by channels I’ve subscribed to, new Linkedin connections, people liking my tweets, and so on. Honestly, it’s a lot, and I expected it. As usual, I answered each message, checked each notification, and responded to other emails and important matters. I felt frustrated with myself knowing that praying should be the first thing I do upon waking up, not checking my phone.

I’ve developed this bad habit of checking my social media accounts and doing nothing productive for hours. Basically, I stayed in bed until it was about 10 a.m. I was getting hungry so I went to the eatery a few steps away from our dorm.  I actually like it there not only because it’s the nearest place where I could eat and they’ve got  good food, but also because of the nice cook with a mother-like aura who always smiles at me warmly and greets me ‘good morning’. Of course I greeted and smiled back. As always, I ate Chicken Shots with iced tea. It has become a favorite already. Once I finished eating, I drank the glass of iced tea and a glass of water. As I was about to leave, the cook said, “thank you”, to which I respond with a “thank you” as well.

You see, I don’t usually go out of my dorm especially now that it’s vacation season. I’m sort of making the most out of it, so I’m always indoors, conserving my energy and spending time on the internet. I went back to my dorm right away.

I read some articles, chatted with my friends and loved ones, and continued checking on my social media accounts. I also watched the anime Orange. It was actually recommended to me by my cousins quite a long time ago. I just remembered it then because I saw an article about it. I was surprised that it was uploaded on Youtube, which made things more convenient. I’ll write more about it on a separate post, probably tomorrow because it’s getting late now and I’m becoming sleepy.

Before 2 p.m., I took a bath and prepared to leave because I had to go to a local remittance center to pay the student membership fee for a youth organization I recently joined. It was nice to walk outside as the sky was cloudy and it wasn’t too hot. After about five minutes, I arrived at the remittance center. There weren’t a lot of people, so I was able to have my transaction processed. To cut the long story short, I wasn’t able to have it processed - an amount that is larger than I was supposed to pay was required to complete the transaction. I cancelled it and left.

Before going home, I passed by a store and bought some snacks and a toothpaste because I already ran out of one. I brush my teeth after every meal, so I quickly run out of toothpaste. As soon as I got home, I ate the snacks I bought since I was so hungry. I was too preoccupied with online stuff that I forgot to eat lunch. What I ate that morning was supposedly my breakfast. That was already 4 p.m. when I ate snacks.

Rin arrived earlier than usual, turns out it was her rest day and she went home to wash her clothes. I was reading an article about blogging when she arrived. Time really flows so fast; I didn’t notice that it was already 6:30 p.m. I easily get carried away by reading, especially when I’m at Quora.

She asked if I was already hungry. I answered yes, and told her that we should really eat because the last time she ate was at 12 n.n. We went outside and bought Omurice. She was watching a Kdrama as well, so we agreed to eat our dinner in the room. After eating, we had to go out again because she needed to buy something from the school supplies store. By the time we got home, our other roommate, who is also my churchmate, had just arrived. I shall refer to her now as Irish.

Irish just got home from her on-the-job training. She’d usually get home at around 7:30 p.m. I asked her if she had already eaten, to which she answered yes. We each went into our individual worlds - I faced my laptop, while Rin and Irish laid on their beds.

For the average person, this day is a boring one, but I don’t find it boring at all. This is how I usually spend my vacation - staying at home, keeping in touch with loved ones through chat, reading articles online, watching anime, blogging, sharing memes, and so on. But this is how I have fun, by spending most of my day in solitude. Of course this is not to say that I want to be alone all the time; I have days when I want to see my loved ones too and spend time with them beyond the online interactions we usually have.

This is just how I recharge.