#tried to make it a little obnoxious hope this has satiated you

[itskeej]

I think you would look really good in a super flashy gaudy wedding dress. reckon u could pull it off

pov ur about to get married and ur spouse is wearing

THE DRESS OF FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[foxdev1l]

hi last time i asked for thoughts it went really extremely well and i've been six-obsessed since. i didn't even like a/b/o before but i'm crazy now. anyway you mentioned you have a/b/o notes on pretty much all characters so i'm politely shaking your brain more please 🤲

thanks for the ask <3 very sorry it took me so long to reply - i spent the last two months trying to finish a big fic on ao3, and that took up most of my time and energy. but i've finally managed to scrape together the a/b/o headcanon notes for most of the geese - some longer and more detailed than others - and i hope you enjoy it as much as the six one. feel free to add your own thoughts and opinions :]

thank you to @hollandstrophyhusband for brainstorming with me, and @uncleclam for being a dan expert and helping me come up with the second half of his headcanon!

CW: nsfw, identity issues, self-destructive behavior

A/B/O HEADCANON FOR THE GEESE

Richard – Alpha

He presents very early on, as an Alpha to his own smugness and the annoyance of anyone else. He's flourishing, unstoppable, not afraid to lean into any stereotypes. He wears his status proudly, clogs up the air with the obnoxious stench of Alpha pheromones wherever he goes. 

He's a fucking bastard, pushy towards Omegas without caring whether or not they already have a partner. And he loves to rile up other Alphas, cocky and overconfident as he is. 

It's only when he ends up pressed against a cold, stained wall – fledged, sharp teeth scraping along the tendons of his neck and a knee dug into his growing erection – that the consequences of his actions finally and truly sink in.

Julian – Beta

He's not an Alpha like his brother, strong and resilient and born to become something great. But neither is he an Omega, can't be married off to some strong, influential Alpha. 

He is completely and utterly useless. His mother despises it.

Jacob – Omega

There is an undisclosed box of suppressants crammed between a bottle of mouthwash and a pack of razor blades in the cupboard under his bathroom sink. It sees the artificial light of the bathroom twice a day before it gets pushed back into its hiding place – all the way against the back of the cupboard to make sure not even one of his nameless hookups can find it.

He can't remember the last time he went into heat, and it's not right, it's not healthy, but he can't make himself stop.

His body is beginning to fold under the abuse. It's still holding together, is not on the verge of collapsing, but it's showing in smaller, more painful ways. The inability to regulate body temperature, constant headaches, shaky hands, and recurring bouts of nausea.

What little pheromones still manage to leak through despite the strong suppressants get dampened by scent blockers. He uses sticking plasters to tape them over his glands. They make his skin red and irritated but he can deal with it – he’s fine.

Others think he's a Beta, which is almost just as embarrassing, but at least no Alpha looks down on him, mostly just ignores him – it's a small mercy.

What he's lacking, he tries to make up for in other ways. He seeks out bar after bar, fuck after fuck, desperately trying to compensate for who he truly is.

But there's an itch deep inside him, and no matter how many times he gets his dick wet and presses someone else into sheets underneath him, it's not enough to scratch it, to satiate the hunger within.

There is a part of him, longing and yearning and disgusting, and no matter how hard he desperately tries to get rid of it, it stays.

Luke – Omega

Luke is slutty, has done a lot of stupid, risky things over the years, and he's always half-expected this all to end with a child. But he always assumed he'd be the one knocked up.

A male Omega can impregnate another Omega, though it's rare and risky. That’s why Luke is so shocked when he comes back to find he has a kid.

His instincts are clawing at his insides with the vigor of a wounded animal. Being away from his child hurts, seeing it getting raised by a complete stranger – an Alpha – is even worse.

Dan – Beta

Dan is a beta. There is nothing particularly special about him, though that suits him just fine. He likes being ordinary, being able to slip through the cracks unnoticed, away from prying eyes and unnecessary attention.

He does, however, have a few things to say about their current political system, if one were genuinely interested and patient enough to listen to him – about the oppression of Omegas, the glorification of Alphas, and, above all else, the exploitation of Betas.

But all in all, he's just trying to get through life, keep his head down as much as possible, and being a Beta is pretty convenient for that.

It doesn't keep him from experimenting, of course. There are drugs, altered pheromones that, instead of giving you the kick of a high, can simulate a heat or a rut upon injection. 

Alpha pheromones are much more pricey so Dan mostly keeps to the Omega substances. It's addicting, intoxicating, and he can't help but seek it out, that pleasurable thrill, the feverish lust, if only momentarily.

It's a risky game he's playing, he knows, for the gratification of fleeting ecstasy. He's heard the stories, of people overdoing it and ending up in a constant state of heat, getting trapped in a never-ending spiral of overwhelming pleasure.

But taking drugs is always risky. He's never expected anything less.

Besides, compared to all the other stuff he's got lying around in his flat, being non-stop horny is probably the least of his worries.

Dean – Beta

Dean is a beta. His anger is neither that of a hot-headed Alpha nor is his gentleness rooted in the caring nature of an Omega. He just is. He's never cared much for his secondary gender, has never let it bother him. He's got other things he rather focus his energy on.

Driver – ???

Driver is a fucking mystery. No one knows his secondary gender, but most people aren't brave enough to flat-out ask. 

He's got that unbothered and cool persona of a Beta and the assertive, intimidating facade of an Alpha. But he can also be strangely quiet and shy, almost akin to an Omega.. Sometimes people wonder if he ever even presented in the first place.

Steven – Alpha

Steven is an alpha stuck in a constant state of rut.

Lars – Alpha

He presents late as an Alpha and spends his first rut gently rutting against a pillow, cheeks tear-stained, too overwhelmed to do much else. It's hardly pleasurable, mostly painful, and his father decides to put him on suppressants pretty quickly afterward. He just can't be bothered.

It doesn't really help though. The suppressants keep Lars’ ruts subdued but never truly kill them. He can still feel it, a straining pressure just below the surface; an itch he can never quite satisfy no matter what.

It's frustrating, irritating, keeps him on edge, and makes him fuzzy and restless, but he's too scared to quit the suppressants, the mere thought of going through another rut as maddening and consuming as his first almost unbearable. Albeit, it can't go on like this forever. The suppressants take a toll on his body, and, as stubborn as he is and as frightening as he feels, he knows he's going to have to lay off eventually.

 His next rut is going to be worse than his first, aggressive and forceful. What he needs is someone he can trust. Someone patient, understanding. Soft but firm. An anchor he can hold onto when he finally eases off the suppressants, to soften the rough edges of his rut as it overtakes him, and to hold and soothe him when all is done.

K – Omega

All replicants are designed to be Alpha's, although their DNA has been altered to make them more suitable. The strength and resilience persist, but the rough edges – the ruts and aggression and possessiveness – have been chafed away to make space for a modified, more obedient type of Alpha.

Officer K is made to be an Alpha, just like all the other models, and he does not waste much thought on it, has more important things to focus on. 

That is, until one day and without any warning, he goes into heat.

His madame has just sent him away to hunt down another old replicant gone rogue halfway across the entire city when it happens. It starts slow, a low simmering heat below his skin, a fuzzy vision, and a quickening of his pulse. 

Then it hits him all at once.

It must have been a malfunction, during his creation, while he was being processed. K isn't sure.

He barely manages to drag himself to the nearest hotel before the worst of his heat hits. The next few days are a haze, spent terrified and alone. The skin on his arms and chest is irritated and painful by the end of it, scratched raw by his nails in a desperate attempt to gain back control. 

When he gets back to the police department, he offers his madame the replicant’s bagged eye like a gift and hopes she won't ask why it took longer than usual.

He does not tell her what happened, has instead chosen to chase down illegal heat suppressants on his way back to keep most of his…issue contained. Buying the suppressants off some sketchy dealer has left a bitter taste of guilt behind but the fear of what may happen if someone realizes he's malfunctioned – is nothing but a failed product – is enough to keep him tongue-tied.

They will retire him, K has never been more sure about anything in his entire life. And so he continues to take heavy heat suppressants, drowns out the overwhelming, traitorous smell of an Omega with scent blockers.

It's painful, stressful to always be on guard, in a constant state of fear that someone will find out his secret. But K has made his decision. 

It's fine. After all, it only helps solidify the growing belief that something is truly and fundamentally wrong with him.

[sunshineseung]

Little Secret // Changbin

🍄 | genre: smut mini-series  ☁️ | pairing: Seo Changbin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 2k 🌸 | includes: plot *yawn*, masturbation, fear of being caught, actually being caught, most of the hot and heavy stuff happens in the other parts lmao

☀️ | synopsis: Seo Changbin is your brother’s best friend. He comes over all the time, and you practically grew up together. If only you hadn’t gotten a crush on him. If only he knew how hard you had fallen for him.

🌊 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Finale |

You and your brother had never been as close as your parents had hoped. Jisung was always loud and obnoxious, making friends everywhere he went and never looking back. You were much more comfortable by yourself, spending night after night alone while Jisung was out partying. Your shelf was full of books and fandom memorabilia while your brother’s shelf was covered in dust and toy robots from his youth he refused to get rid of. His GTA V poster covered the wall next to his bed while the only decoration in your room was the fairy lights and fake vines around the perimeter of your walls. These fundamental differences pushed you away from your brother, and after several years, you turned more into a punchline for Jisung to discussed jokingly with his friends while he was just the annoying older brother you’d wished would move out.

As much as you wanted to leave home and go to a prestigious college, your parents insisted you go to the same local college as Jisung for at least a year “just to try it out,” a.k.a they didn’t have enough money to send you away, which was reasonable. You and your brother, still under the same roof, fought to no end over the smallest things: loud music, messy bathroom, eating each other’s leftovers. Just about anything was fair game when the light-hearted hatred was so tense.

There was one bright side, though. Since Jisung entered Kindergarten, he was close to a boy named Changbin. You grew up with Changbin at your house, and even when your family moved 20 minutes away from him, he would always be there. There was nothing separating Jisung and Changbin. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the slightest crush on Changbin. While Jisung was only one year older than you, Changbin was two years older, and that initially intimidated you. His intimidating and off putting nature is what drew you in, but his glowing smile and gorgeous face only made you fall harder. You couldn’t explain your feelings for Changbin when you were in middle school, and even now, it was hard to describe the overwhelming nervousness that overcomes you when you’re in his vicinity. As high school went on, you knew you couldn’t be with him, but while you had your head in books throughout high school, Changbin was going to his college’s gym. His smile was one thing, and that was good for a middle school crush, but his insane arm and chest muscles send you through the moon in high school, and the image of Changbin shirtless at your neighborhood pool has been etched in your brain since your junior year of high school.

But now you’re in college. You’re a greasy little freshman while Changbin is a worn-out junior. There’s no way in hell you can shoot your shot, even if you’re both adults. And to make things even more impossible, Jisung would never allow his best friend to date his little sister. That would ruin him.

As improbable as it was, you still loved to fantasize about Changbin, spending most of your time alone daydreaming about his sculpted body above yours, praising you and making you feel like the only girl in the world.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

“Sis, could you put on some actual clothes, jeez.” Jisung covered his eyes dramatically as you entered the kitchen in your very appropriate shorts and tee shirt. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him, punching him in the shoulder lightly. 

“Changbin’s been coming over for how long? It’s fine.” Your response sounded steady, but your mind was buzzing. You didn’t know Changbin was coming over! Why are you never told about these things?! At this point, you should have assumed given it was a Friday night, but you’d still like some warning. 

“Just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean he should be subjected to it!” Jisung went into the living room, arguing with you under his breath. Another stupid mini-fight for a stupid reason. 

If anything, the information that Changbin was coming over would have only prompted you further to wear shorts and a thin tee shirt with no bra. As shy as you usually were, you still had the inexplicable want to be noticed by Changbin, even for a moment. Unfortunately, your brother adamantly tried to hide you from his friend, probably knowing Changbin always gets what he wants.

Jisung always babied you infront of Changbin, so you usually just stay in your room to protect yourself, and you’re sure Jisung would prefer that. Your parents worked late nights attempting to pay for their children’s college tuition, so when they came home well after midnight, they’d go straight to bed, uncaring for their adult children’s wearabouts. This gave Jisung the perfect opportunity to be as loud as he wanted in the living room, whether it was with a girl or one of his friends. 

Tonight was going to be one of those loud nights, but that was nothing new. You always had a surefire way to fall asleep, regardless of the chatter going on downstairs.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

It was midnight. Why was he still here? You wanted to sleep more than anything, but the ruckus of your brother and his best friend chatting loudly downstairs prevented you from getting any sort of shuteye. 

However, the only thing that can help you sleep is Changbin, or at least the thought of him. You reached to your bedside drawer and pulled out your bullet vibrator. If anything was going to help you sleep, it was an orgasm while imagining Changbin railing you like you’ve always wanted him to do since high school.

Although you hated to admit it, your thoughts of Changbin had been drifting towards the smuttier side since those days at the pool. All you could think about to get yourself off was Changbin, and no amount of other casual romantic partners could satiate your burning desire for Seo Changbin to fuck you on every surface in the house, including in your brother’s room while he was away. Every time you’d overhear Changbin talking about a new girl or his plentiful sex life, your face would flush red and you would wish that one day, he’d talk about you, but maybe not to Jisung. That would be too weird. 

You undressed lazily, tossing your shirt and shorts onto the ground. You hesitated to take your underwear off, but there was no way you could properly get off with them on. Your panties joined the pile of clothes on the floor, and you spread your legs, tracing your fingers through your own heat, spreading your wetness across your holds. Your free hand eases the cold vibrator onto your clit, pressing the button at the top to turn it on. You bucked your hips into the toy, shutting your eyes and pretending that it’s Changbin holding it onto you, teasing you gently with every movement. His voice from downstairs echoed to your room, and the more you imagined his voice whispering the dirtiest sweet nothings into your ear, the closer you got to release.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

This was just supposed to be a fun little game of truth or dare, a common occurrence between Changbin and Jisung. Truth or dare was their way to let their feelings out and have a bit of fun. Before suggesting a movie, Jisung offered his friend one last truth or dare.

“Dare.” Changbin crosses his arms, waiting for Jisung to respond to his response. 

After a moment, Jisung’s face contorted into a smile like that of the Grinch before he stole Christmas. Changbin knew nothing good could come from that expression, but nevertheless, he was interested in what awful, terrible, no good idea his friend had come up with. 

“I dare you to go upstairs and scare my sister.”

“That’s it?” Changbin was beyond confused. He’d thought Jisung had come up with a dare so evil, so vile, so wicked, that only the devil himself could come up with it, but to be fair, Jisung could easily have been more sinful than the devil. 

“That’s it!” Jisung clapped his hands together in seeming victory. “Sneak up those stairs, go to the second room on the right, barge in, and give my good little sister a good little scare.” Jisung wasn’t letting go of his smirk. He still looked sinister, even after explaining such a boring, and honestly disappointing, dare. Changbin sighed, shrugged, and stood up from his seat, but before he could turn around, Jisung had one last thing to say: “Don’t take too long up there! I want to finish this movie.”

Changbin rolled his eyes and trudged on, tip-toeing up the stairs so you didn’t even hear him coming. Jisung was vibrating with giddiness, but Changbin couldn’t see. All he saw was the door to your room, looking more menacing than ever before. It’s such a lighthearted prank, why was Changbin so scared now? He reached for the doorknob, turned it quietly, and pushed the door open as fast as possible. 

His first scream was that of a shitty jump scare in a horror movie, but his second scream was that of terror with a high-pitched tone. Nothing could have prepared him to see you, his best friend’s sister, a freshman at the college he was a junior in, with a vibrator pressed against your nether region. You were totally naked aside from your shirt that was pushed up over your tits. The sight made his body go pale, and he felt his soul leave his body. He didn’t run away; he was just frozen, but you hardly would have noticed him if it hadn’t been for his stereotypically girly scream. You threw your duvet over yourself, wrapping yourself up like a burrito. 

“What the fuck, Changbin?” You raised your voice slightly, hardly able to yell since your voice was hoarse from the orgasm you’d just been denied by the rude interruption. Changbin couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think, let alone defend himself. He stood in your doorway, eyes blown out, hand practically glued to the door handle. Jisung’s manic laughing can be heard from downstairs, but both your mind and Changbin’s were too fuzzy to tune in, although your minds were fuzzy for differing reasons.

Changbin let go of the handle and shut the door behind him. You squirm under your blanket burrito, adjusting yourself and getting ready for an attack from Changbin, but he doesn’t come near you. His back hits the door, and he holds his chest where his heart is. Once he calms down for a moment, he’s finally ready to speak.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He takes a step towards you, but you lean back, scared of what he’s going to do to you. “Jisung dared me to scare you, and I- I didn’t know you were up here… doing that. I-”

“Changbin,” you cut him off, “just get out.” 

He doesn’t move. He collects his thoughts one last time and takes another step closer to your bed. “Did you finish?”

“Changbin!” Your vocal cords had healed since being hoarse just seconds ago, and you were finally able to fully raise your voice.

“I’m gonna go back downstairs, but when that movie’s over, text me.” Fuck, you forgot you had his number. “I want to make it up to you.” 

You’re beyond hesitant, but after a minute, you nod, and Changbin leaves your room without a word. 

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

An hour passes, and you reach over to your nightstand and grab your phone. Your messenger app stays open on the window with the empty text screen under Changbin’s contact. Ow, this is hurting your brain to think about. How could you ever get over yourself for fucking your brother’s friend, let alone the friend that’s watched you grow up. This was a mistake. Turn back now. Don’t text him, don’t text him, don’t text him.

Fuck it.

Your fingers fluttered over the screen, repeatedly typing and deleting the same message until it was perfect.

Is the movie over?

The ellipsis text bubble appears in the corner and your heart drops. You know your face is bright red, but you can’t help be excited while simultaneously feeling terrified.

The movie ended 10 minutes ago. You ready for me, princess?

No no no no no no no no

Ready when you are ;)

Oh my god oh my god oh my god

Come out to my car. I want to take you to my apartment so your brother can’t hear us.

No turning back now.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Kinktober Day 1

BEN Drowned: Silly Sweet Sex

Gee gOLLY I am so not used to super fluffy smut, idk how this turned out lmfaoo

This one isn’t super smutty just cause I’m not sure how to go about writing sweet sex, but I hope ya can enjoy what I came up with regardless uwu

Also!! Since kinktober = a lot of fics (seriously, sO many hours went into making these, I’m 💀💀) I wasn’t able to make them all as long as this one :”) Some are decently lengthy, others are short and others are even shorter. They’re definitely not my best works either, but I’m super glad I was able to challenge myself like this either way :>

But without further ado, I hope y’all enjoy this lil month filled with smut <33

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated! 

“(Y/n), I’m bored~”

The blond throws his arms around your form and nestles his face into the crook of your neck

“Wait, I’m—I’m so close—“

Your fingers work furiously against the controller as you chew your lip, brows furrowing in concentration

He huffs, blowing warm air against your skin, and then his lips slowly curl into a devious smirk

You should’ve known by then to kiss your sweet, sweet progress goodbye

Because he suddenly yanks you back and you’re sent toppling over and out of view of the high definition screen above the bed

“N-no, BEN!”

You shriek his name, frantically mashing buttons in a last-ditch effort to save your dying character

But you’re all-too late as the obnoxiously familiar Game Over music sounds out

“I was so close” you whine

You squirm in his grasp and pout, letting the controller fall from your death-grip and onto the floor with a lame thunk

He has the audacity to “awh” at you

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time,” he reassures, “But right now, I wanna hang out with my lovely girlfriend whom I love oh so very much~”

He smooches your forehead and it has you rolling your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite yourself

“Yeah, yeah—ok, whatever. What do you wanna do then?”

You shift on top of him and manage to pull yourself up into a sitting position, with your legs now straddling his thighs

He grins, satisfied with his victory, and props his head up into his hands

“Mmh, I dunno, baby. What do you wanna do?”

“I wanna finish my level~” you tease

He groans, sitting himself up as well, and you giggle at the way it almost has you falling off of him

He wraps his hands around your waist, tugging you closer to him so his lips are inches from yours

And with a content hum, he places a chaste kiss to your bottom lip—not nearly enough contact to satiate your sudden urge for more

“First you make me lose my game and now you try to tease me” you huff

He laughs, pulling away, but not before giving a quick “boop” to your nose

“You’re so adorable, how could I resist?~”

“I am not adorable! I live in a mansion full of demons and serial killers. I’m a menace to society”

There’s a brief injection of silence as the both of you stare one another down

And then the corners of his mouth twitch, his lips quirking, and you can tell he can’t hold back any longer

His composure breaks, shattering in a fit of boyish giggles

You’re about to say something but he reaches for your sides to tickle you and it has you shrieking our his name again

“You’re too cute, (y/n)~”

You fall back, forced into a burst of uncontrollable laughter as his fingers mercilessly run up and down your soft spots

“O-ok! Ok—I give up! You win!!”

You manage to wheeze the words out between yelps and giggles, tears already springing to your eyes

“Nuh-uh! Say you’re cute! Say that you’re a cutie and I’ll stop!”

“Ok! I’m cute!! I’m a cutie—s-stop it!!”

His onslaught finally relents, leaving you breathless with your hands pressing to his chest as you try to regain a hold on yourself

And, of course, he chuckles at how flushed you look beneath him, his canines tantalizingly sharp and pearly white beneath his lips

One of his hands encircles your wrists and he plants a kiss just below the inside of your palm

“Aw, see? That wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

You stick your tongue out at him

He laughs, and then he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck and sighing

“Y’know, I think I thought of something I wanna do”

“Yeah? What’s that?” you hum, fingers absent-mindedly brushing through his hair

He slyly rolls his pelvis into you—and you can feel his hard-on pressing between your legs

When he hears your breath catching in your throat, he pulls back to look at you, grinning wolfishly

“You wanna play with my Master Sword, baby?” he croons, his brows wriggling suggestively

“You’re such a dork!”

You give him a light smack, and he gasps in feigned offence before that damn smirk returns to his annoyingly pretty lips

“You’re just jealous of me, baby”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”

You tilt your head to the side

“And what exactly am I jealous of, hm? I thought I was the cute one”

“Mmm…” he bites his lip, smiling “you’re right—you are” he gives in, kissing your nose before adding, “But I bet you’d look even cuter riding my dick~”

You roll your eyes, bringing your hands to his chest, which has him moving away to let you sit up

“Alright, you win. Again” you sigh a little too dramatically

His face cracks up into that damn smile again, and you really can’t help but give a quick kiss to his cheek

He doesn’t hesitate to tug his shirt over his torso—briefly fumbling as his head gets trapped halfway through the material—before emerging with a stupid grin on his face and his hair all tussled up

“Dork” you laugh

You push him down and settle on top of him, this time parting your legs so that his growing bulge is settled neatly right where you need it the most

“Mmh, you loooove me~” he teases

You roll your eyes again

And then you lean down, capturing his lips, savoring the kiss and the way he quietly moans against you—how warm and soft his mouth feels before parting and letting his tongue taste you entirely

He wraps his hands around your hips and guides your body to move in tandem with his, all while keeping your mouth busy with his own

Nimble fingers tug at the hem of your shirt, so you pull away to slip the material off, and when you look back down at him, he’s got a big, stupid grin on his face

“What?” you ask

He shrugs

“Nothing”

Your gaze narrows, a knowing smile at your lips

“I‘m not gonna take my bra off if you’re gonna be a doofus about it”

His lips part in shock, feigning innocence

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean”

He tries, very briefly, to keep the act up, but the look you’re giving him has him laughing openly again

“Ok, ok, I swear I’ll behave”

You shake your head, biting back a grin as you unclasp your bra and let it drop from the swell of your tits

He bites his lip, eyes darkening as he stares at your chest and grinds up into you

“Y’know, I like your pants, too. Were they on sale? Cause they’re 100% off at—“

You slap a hand over his mouth

“I swear to god, you absolute dork, you’re not getting any action tonight if you finish that sentence”

You can feel his broad grin beneath you hand

And just as you’re about to remove it, you feel the warm, wet flat of his tongue as he licks a long stripe up your palm

“BEN!”

You shriek his name, and as you’re caught off guard, he moves up and traps you beneath him

He chuckles, kissing up your neck

“What’s wrong, baby?” he laughs “You didn’t seem to mind my tongue a few seconds ago when it was in your mouth~”

Your face flushes

“I-I just wasn’t expecting it!”

He laughs again, but then he’s back to nipping at your neck, and you’re whining beneath him, and his hands are fumbling with the zipper of your pants

He helps you wriggle your way out of them before tossing them to the floor

Then he looks back at you, grinning widely

“100% off at my place!!”

You don’t have time to answer before he’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you groan against him but don’t bother pushing him away

He pulls your panties to the side, exposing your slick, throbbing cunt to him so he can lazily stroke up and down your slit, making your hips buckle up into him

“A-ah, BEN~”

Your back arches as he dips a finger between your puffy folds, your entrance already tightening around him, relishing his digit dragging along your sensitive nerves

You clamp your teeth down on your lip, gazing up at him through furrowed brows

And it has him adding a finger, twisting them both so your fluttering walls are wrapping even tighter around him

“God, look at how cute you are, (y/n)~”

Your face flushes at the way he looks down at you—like you’re a goddess at the beckon of his fingers—and the attention is almost embarrassing

“W-will you just shut up and kiss me again?”

He chuckles, no doubt enjoying how flustered and riled-up he’s already gotten you

“Anything for you, little cutie~”

[sinisterlyhan]

02. lee felix /  1923 words

hybrid!felix, oral (m receiving), throatpie, very slight fluff

a/n: decided to write a short little drabble before uni completely consumes me.

you knew you should have never let minho spray that weirdly scented perfume on you, especially after you talked to him about how shockingly well felix has been behaving even during his heat cycle at the moment.

but alas! you bought into his half-assed lie and believed him when he said the scent of matatabi would soothe a cat's agitation during their heat. now that you thought back to it, you finally realized how stupid it was for you to just let him spray the catnip perfume all over you.

however, to your defense, you did it for felix. you probably wouldn't have trusted minho right away if you didn't adopt a cat hybrid into your home, but felix was here now and you'd do anything to help him get through the mating season comfortably.

you only believed minho because you were worried about what felix was going through. and doing that has gotten to this point in your day—with felix withering beneath you as your delicate hands stroked up and down his hardened length.

you had no idea a simple plant could have so much effect on him. as soon as you returned home, he had pushed you up against the wall and started uncontrollably whimpering as he ground his hips against yours. strings of incoherent begs leaving his lips as his cat ears perked up on top of his head, indicating his excitement.

it was a mix of the nature of the heat cycle, the effect of the matatabi, and the fact that your sweet body scent mixed in with the overall aroma that got him so damn agitated as soon as you entered your apartment.

felix had been so good during his heat, surprisingly well-behaved that you underestimated how bad—or horny—he could actually get if given the chance to set his emotions free.

"(name)–(name)–please..." he whimpered under your hands, his tail elegantly wagging at his side as his hips bucked up needily.

you furrowed your brows curiously at him. you wondered if he was in pain; has he gotten so desperate that his body started to tingle in longing for a sense of your touch? what would happen if you leave him to his own devices here, with his cock erect and his tip red with pre-cum leaking down his shaft.

there were still a lot you don't know about a cat hybrid. you didn't know what took over you when you decided to take felix in, perhaps it was his innocent face or the fact that you had been at your lowest point back then. you had wanted a companion, and you got one. a very loyal, loving one as well.

rubbing your thumb over his slit to gather up the sticky substance, you dragged it down his length before taking his base in your hand. he hissed, his legs trembling in anticipation and pleasure, and you smiled.

you could tease him next time. you did make a mistake of trusting minho, and now felix had gone spiraling down a hell hole because he could pick up your scent better than anyone else could. this was partially your fault, you would admit.

besides, he could consider this a thank you gift, for being there for you all these times and taking such good care of you emotionally.

"ahh!" felix threw his head back against the couch when you finally took him in your mouth. his hands curled into fists and he brought it up to his chest, shyly holding them in place as you continued to suck on his tip.

your tongue flicked across his slit as your lips sucked on the sensitive bud lightly, sending waves of euphoric sensation over his lower body. your hand pumped the uncovered area slowly, rubbing him up by flicking your wrist.

you were taking your time with him, and felix didn't much mind it.

removing yourself away from him, you spared him a short glance as your hand picked up its pace, moving up and down his shaft and squeezing lightly at the tip. you didn't stop looking at him when you leaned back down, your tongue sticking out to press flatly against his member so you could lick up his length.

felix moaned, his voice unusually boyish and low. his eyes were squeezed shut at the overwhelming sensation, every little thing you were doing to him being exaggerated by his heat cycle. and he whined whenever your tongue would stop at his tip, not touching where he was most sensitive.

he wouldn't touch you, he wasn't sure if he was allowed to, so he resulted in withering underneath you as his nails dug into the heels of his palm. it was almost adorable to watch him act so weak and defenseless at the mercy of your touch, so much that you decided to tease him no longer.

you finally took him in your mouth after a few more pumps. your lips wrapped around his shaft and his tip being welcomed by the warmth of your tongue inside your mouth. felix let out a groan when you sucked in, your cheeks hollowing to give his cock a satisfying pull.

it was all rushing to his head, the pleasure and the fulfillment. he has been holding himself back for so long. as soon as his heat started, he had this urge to jump on you. it didn't help that you acted so casual around him still, inching so close to him so he was forced to sniff you out every waking second.

all felix wanted this week was to give in, to fuck you, to satiate the itch in his abdomen.

but he wasn't sure if you would agree to it, nor could he tell if you'd be weirded out by his attempts, so he kept it all to himself. he spent his alone time touching himself to the thought of you, spent his night rutting against your pillow and washing the sheet manually later.

none of those were ever good enough for him. nothing could compare to the feeling of his cock stuffed into your pretty, little mouth; sucking and licking at him until his voice had gone hoarse from the moans and whimpers.

bobbing your head along his shaft, your slurps become louder and more obnoxious by second, as did his shameless hip bucks grew more and more frequent.

giving him one more suck, your wet lips popped off his tip and you gave yourself a moment to breathe. felix whined from above, his hands slumping to his side as he peered down at you with a childish pout, his ears flapping down as if begging you for more.

you could only smile at him—how he managed to look like he wasn't getting his dick sucked off was beyond you, but he looked cute nonetheless.

"i want to cum, please help me, (name)," he asked politely, his low voice timid.

god, his voice never fails to surprise you. so sultry and deep, but it came in complete contrast to his baby cheeks and sparkly eyes. the contradiction was fascinating and, almost, alluring to you.

"i will," you replied faintly before leaning your face close to his cock once again. your tongue flew out to touch his glistening skin, and you licked slowly up to his tip before you wrapped your mouth around him again.

as you bobbed your head, you picked the time to lean down on his cock so his tip poked at the entrance of your sensitive throat. you gagged at his size, an uncomfortable feeling rising in your chest at his dick being lodged so far back in your throat.

felix winced, his eyes widening as a choked gasp got pulled out of his throat. his mouth stayed open at the feeling of your warmth brushing all over his cock. your tongue sloppy with not much space to navigate and your teeth just barely grazing along his dick as you moved. 

you repeated the cycle over and over. bobbing your head and stopping to deep-throat him, letting your gags stimulate him every once in a while. and he could only feel his release approaching, being energized by not only the way you sucked on him, but also by the seductive scent surrounding your both. 

it was heavenly, nothing short of a catharsis that released all the pent-up energy he had stored inside his body ever since his heat cycle started. you managed something his little hands could never be able to achieve—not so much talking about orgasm, per se, he’s had plenty just on jerking himself off when you’re not at home. 

it was the yearning that got fulfilled, he supposed, an orgasm for the mind; the yearning to have you snug in the middle of his legs and his cock buried deep in your pretty mouth. 

you felt his dick twitch in your mouth, and felix’s breathing was becoming more ragged and loud as his climax approaches. so you hollowed your cheeks once more as you went down on him, letting your throat tickle his sensitive tip one more time before he suddenly let out a shameless whine. 

his hands finally made their way to your head, clamping down on either side to keep you in place as he threw his head back at his release. hot liquid sprouted from his slit, decorating a bitter taste along the walls of your throat, and you tried not to struggle with swallowing all of him with his cock still stuffed far inside your mouth.

his grip was released when he was finally done. you slowly cleaned him up by sucking on him as you moved your head along his length, finding his little whimpers at the overstimulation quite the adorable sound to hear. when you figured you were done, you finally pulled off him with a wet pop and your lips red from the ordeal.

felix squeezed his thighs together then, his sweaty forehead the remains of the extreme pleasure he felt from you. bringing his hands up to his cheeks, your eyes automatically followed along and you found a light blush adorning the freckled canvas. 

“thank you...” he muttered under his breath, his voice no longer low but more high-pitched and shy. “i’m sorry, i hope that wasn’t bad...”

you reached up his body, your torso brushing past his cock ever so slightly before you weight leaned on top on him. felix winced with a shut of his eyes, still feeling the jolts of electricity whenever you come in contact with him. you brushed his cheek with the back of your palm, a gentle look on your face.

“not a problem,” you said. “i’m supposed to take care of you, right? so i’ll do that.”

felix opened his eyes to look at you, his eyes unreadable as he recounted just how lucky he got to have you pick him up from the streets and brought him home. not to mention you did everything for him starting from then on, even... well... what happened just now.

“i...” he breathed out then, his eyes showing nothing but sincerity as he whispered, “i want to make you feel good too.”

your eyes widened a little at his words, confused, and what came next made your confusion turn into complete bewilderment. 

there was a poke at your stomach, your stomach that laid right between his knees. 

you knew what it was. 

and when you looked back up at felix, his blush only deepened.

oh god, he meant sex. he wants to have sex.

[mimiplaysgames]

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. IX)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T (for sexual references) Word Count: 5,377

Summary: Aqua was drunk when she kissed him and doesn’t remember. Terra is too much of a disaster to talk to her about it. Terra is 20, Aqua is 18.

Read on AO3

A/N: Based off of a prompt @holyteapotofrussell​ gave me: “It’s three in the morning,” which they gave me... two years ago. *HIDES* Considering how old this outline is, it’s interesting to see how my writing has changed since the first chapter of this installment, and how much it hasn’t. There was so much that I learned from writing this specific story, and going through so many mistakes. But I have to stick by it anyway. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

~*~*~*~*~

A Tale of Landslides, Pt. 3

The following days had been sunny with the inevitable chance of random storms. A typical summer in the mountains meant for ghost stories by a fire, long hours stargazing, and indulging in lazy naps on hammocks by the creek. 

As if they had time for any of that. The Mark of Mastery was now three days away (as if they spent these final moments as students productively). Inside the castle walls, every hour was tense and thick and weird. 

Talking with Aqua was bust. Their conversations ended with Okay, Sure, and the worst of all: Oh. It was as though Terra had forgotten how to exist around her. Every time he remembered what happened between them, a pit in his stomach filled with acid and sunk, leaving his blood cold. 

He had a semblance of a plan. For now, he was equipped with a stack of three books. Soon, he’d find an answer to one question.

He heard:

“I said, you need to wax your Keyblade with bird grease if you want to improve your air magic. You know, from their beaks.”

Terra snapped his gaze up at Ven, who sat across from him in the library. Ven was supposed to be working on an essay about Keyblade ethics in the context of drawing energy from bonds shared between people - the same one he’d been procrastinating (ignoring, in Ven’s words) for days. As expected, the only book he had open was Terra’s childhood copy of The Adventures of Robin Hood, a fox and a bear gracing the cover.

“Why are you talking about severed beaks?”

Ven scoffed. “I wasn’t. You act like I’m not here, so I made it up.”

Terra pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“Sure. And I know how to fly.”

“You’re supposed to be working.” Terra marked the last word he read with his finger. “Why don’t you tell me what you need help with?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s up?” Ven leaned over to read Terra’s book upside down. 

Terra shut it on his finger.

“It’s not like I don’t know what you’re researching.” Ven rolled his eyes and tapped a spine. “Book of Fairies? Spirits and Other Idyllic Superstitions? What do they have to do with your exam?”

“What does Robin Hood have to do with your essay? You have a deadline.”

“I bet I could convince the Master to extend it.”

“I bet you couldn’t.”

“Five munny.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten munny.” 

“Did you forget who the Master is?”

“All I gotta do is tell him how desperately I want to be there for your Mark of Mastery.” He flapped his eyelashes. “I’ll even cry a little. When I get him to say yes, you’ll be so impressed with me.” Ven shot a dubious smirk, confident and willing to hand over his allowance. 

Terra clicked his tongue. “It’s your investment.”

“Do the butterflies have anything to do with Aqua?” 

“Someone has to mind his own business.”

“Someone needs to stop avoiding her.”

Terra stammered. That was nowhere close to what he wanted. “I’m not avoiding her.”

“I’ll add twenty munny to the bet if you don’t leave.”

“If I don’t leave what?”

“Aqua!” Ven called, his voice a collision onto Terra’s senses, who scrambled to turn the spines of his books away from the entrance so she wouldn’t see.

It took a moment but there she appeared, her breath heavy as though she’d been dancing. “What is it?”

“Terra’s being obnoxious.”

If Terra kicked him under the table, she’d hear it. So, he held onto his pride. 

Aqua glanced over, the quiver on her lips something she tried to hide. “What did he do?”

“He won’t let me read.”

She approached the table, a knowing smirk twisting across her face when she saw Robin Hood. By instinct, she met Terra’s eyes for recognition, only to let that smile fall.

Still, she took a seat beside Terra, who adopted the sudden habit of staring hard into the wood.

“We used to pretend we were the characters,” Aqua said. “Terra never let me be Robin Hood.”

Terra winced, but the memory was warm all the same. You couldn’t pull him off, was the argument he used against her, a red feather in his hair and the same wooden sword used for practice in his hand.

“You would have made a good Robin,” he murmured. 

Aqua, tensing over the fact that he spoke to her, shrugged. “It wouldn’t have made sense. He was your favorite.” 

The conversation choked. 

Ven rolled his lips. “Did you play Maid Marian?”

Aqua tossed him a look as though she swallowed bitter tea, and said, “Of course not. I was Little John.”

“The bear?”

“Little John was the smarter one,” Aqua said, dignified as she crossed her arms. But she lost all composure as she remembered something, her proud expression collapsing into a string of chuckles. “There was this one time-”

“Not that story,” Terra moaned, digging his face into his book. 

“Terra the Hood was fighting tax collectors up by the lake. I sat on a tree branch. My job was to warn him of enemies.” She sniffed. “But he tripped and fell into a goose nest, and...” She giggled. “The mother chased him all the way back to the castle.”

Ven snorted. “Brave Sir Robin.”

“Great job watching my back,” Terra said.

“I yelled out wolf hole before you blundered into it,” Aqua said, biting her grin. “It’s not my fault Robin Hood didn’t listen.”

“You pointed and laughed at me.” 

“It was a good show.” She flicked his bicep.

It almost felt like they never shared a kiss. 

A heaviness dropped as soon as Terra thought of the taste of her lips, sinking his gaze back down to the book cover. Brave Sir Robin, always looking like an idiot in front of her. 

“I’m going to get a snack,” Ven announced too loudly, stealing the same opportunity Terra would have tried for. He didn’t offer to grab anything for anyone, and he eyed Terra ceremoniously. 

“Now it’s a thirty munny deal,” he reminded Terra. As if that's any consolation. 

“Is that for a bet?” Aqua asked when they were alone. 

Terra straightened. “Yeah. It’s dumb.”

Her lips pulled a small, polite smile. A peace deal, pink and supple and pillowy. 

“What are you reading?”

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he stopped an urge to push his books further away. He could have told her something near the truth. That being near her brought a rush of thoughts he couldn’t define. That he wanted to bring her something special, something distracting to make his apology more sincere, less surgical. 

That he was about to burst if he didn’t say something about it. 

He should ask her (he should’ve asked her that same night) to follow him into the wilderness and track an answer to the butterflies together. Instead, he looked stupid at the worst time, with a blank mind and a dry throat.

It was only a kiss. Aqua was the same person. 

“Nothing special. Just killing time,” he said, shrugging.

“Don’t be like that,” she asked softly, crossing her hands. She blinked too much, and her head hung. 

Terra knew he was an idiot.

“Be like what?” He gathered the books into his arms. Denying it wouldn’t discredit it - she’s too smart for that - but he flashed a smile anyway, hoping it would console her. 

Aqua nodded, not allowing herself to look at him. 

“I have a lot on my mind. The exam’s coming up in a couple of days, you know?” 

This time she did, grimacing. 

Terra cursed himself.

~*~*~*~*~

Stars clustered in the sky that night like galaxies. Meteorites cut across the window. Terra, shirtless, stood in the kitchen, and sipped his tasteless tea.

Aqua was mad now. 

Their spar session had ended with a spat. After hours of failed attempts to break through her ice barriers, she knocked him down to his knees.

Stupid, stupid ice barriers. He proudly performed the dumb mistake of insulting her when it was really his own technique that needed the pounding. 

He’d been failing bad lately, and getting worse. Worse when the Mark of Mastery was unforgiving already. How was he going to pass now?

Aqua entered the kitchen, scoffing when she saw the mug in his hand. She waved her arm in annoyance. “You didn’t leave any for me.”

Terra leaned against the marble island where she’d knead dough, and smirked. 

“Maybe if you tried getting a hit on me,” she said, stepping close enough to kiss, her nose pointed, uptight, high. “Then you wouldn’t have to act like everything is my fault.”

“Everything is your fault.”

“Not your bad cup of tea.”

“You must have cursed it. Where were you during the fifteen seconds I looked away from the kettle?”

“Tell me one thing.”

He waited for her question, but the chill of vapor floated from the floor. Another damn ice barrier erected between the two of them, thick and blurring her image. 

“Tell you what?” He punched the ice with flames in his fists, but it wouldn’t crack.

She didn’t reply. Blue eyes wide. Pink lips puckered to the ice. She melted a layer.

Terra pressed his forehead onto the barrier to make sure he saw correctly.

“Try again,” she scolded. 

He railed the ice, a swirl of flames combusting onto the surface. Nothing. He growled. 

“Do you really want me to be the one to break through?” she asked, her lips blowing smoke on the ice, inching closer. 

No. Yes. He didn’t know what to expect when it happened, but she was coming, her face the only thing he could see and the only thing he wanted.

They finally touched, lips to lips. She said nothing. He only had his hands exploring her bare back, pulling her hips to dig into his. 

The way her body folded into his was an unbearable pressure. Nothing satiated the hunger for more. He grabbed her chest. It wasn’t soft.

In place was something leathery, long, strong, wrapped around his hands. The tip of it suckled his thumb. An elephant trunk.

She gasped at the lewdness.

The trunk lurched from his grip and slapped him so hard he woke up. 

Warmth churned in his chest. Where was he? In his room, not the kitchen. His arms wiggled as he failed to lean on them, his torso the weight of a ton. He felt good, like a relaxed breeze, but exhausted as though he’d taken a punch to the gut. 

Wetness and stickiness pooled in his pants.

“Not again,” he groaned into his pillow. 

His body protested as he stood up. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he threw off his clothes and scrubbed the crotch of his pants, cursing every single stitched fiber. 

He thought of her, and his stomach jumped with the urgency of a child awaiting punishment. This was why they stopped wrestling, why they didn’t share a bed anymore: do the right thing and avoid the possibility that he’d hump her in his sleep. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy these dreams - well, with exceptions - but they made it difficult to face her in the morning.

After a cold shower, he slipped into clean, dry pajamas. 

In a couple of hours, the sun would rise. One of the books laid open on his desk. He found them: small, white butterflies that were transparent upon closer inspection, their glow so bright it only gave an impression of a shape. 

Terra should go back to sleep but didn’t know if he was capable now. He shook away every flash of an image of her undressed. He wanted her. But he wanted his best friend back. He wanted lots of conflicting things and right now he had neither.

Damn it, it was getting worse.

If they weren’t on odd terms, he’d march to her room and ask her to sneak into the forest with him, no matter the time. Usually, the worst he’d catch from her was a sour mood, but he found them. Small, white butterflies. No better timing. No better way to face her wrath than suffering it half-asleep.

Aqua’s door silently peeked open, like she made the effort to oil it. Her bedroom was prim as usual. Her comforter tucked tightly around her body, slick and even everywhere else. Through the darkness, Terra noticed shaved shards of colored glass on her workbench, orange, blue and green, and narrowly avoided bumping into them.

He gently rolled her shoulder. “Aqua?” he whispered.

She didn’t respond. He sat at the edge of the mattress, and shook her harder. “Aqua.”

When she woke, she threw him a squint before turning the lamp on her nightstand. She mumbled, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I want to show you.”

She blinked slowly. “What?”

“In the forest.” He snorted.

Aqua snatched her clock, a frustrated smile spreading on her face. “It’s three in the morning.” Her voice was hoarse.

“It’s noon somewhere else.”

Blinking a few more times, Aqua had the sudden awareness of who was sitting on her bed. Terra knew what to expect. She scrambled for her pillow and beat him on the head with it. “Now you’re talking to me? After days of acting like I was a plague?”

Terra caught the pillow before it could hit him a sixth time, his heart choking itself.

“Couldn’t afford to get infected,” he said with care, cocking a smirk. “Girl cooties, doctor’s orders. I’m sorry.” He watched her use all the weight in her body to wrestle the pillow out of his hands, her head thrown all the way back. “Cute,” he said of her failed efforts.

Aqua glared at him and twisted the pillow for a better grip. She hated the term when it applied to her, but Terra had always thought of her this way. Seeing how hard she was trying, like a kitten bunny-kicking a tired dog, how could he think otherwise?

A twang of guilt stabbed his heart.

He let go and she toppled backwards. She cursed under her mutters. Too tired for this nonsense. 

She studied him before she scoffed. “What’s in the forest?”

“Magic.”

“Take yourself, then.”

“It’s something you’ve never seen before.”

She paused, stopping herself from throwing him out of her room. 

“If you promise to give my best friend back,” she said softly.

Hearing that stung exactly as he deserved. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.” She smiled anyway, refusing his help in getting out of bed. 

Her hands reached for the ceiling as she stretched. This lifted her shirt and exposed her stomach. Her pants were low enough to show how her pelvis dipped inward near the hip, shaping a subtle pouch just below her belly button amid strong muscle underneath.

Heart now hyper, Terra forced himself to look away. 

“I’ll get Ven,” he said, his voice trembling. He begged the stars that she didn’t notice. 

Ven only agreed to get up if he was carried. He snored on Terra’s shoulder, piggybacked out of the castle through the front entrance, past the waterfalls, and downhill into the furthest clearing where the castle lanterns met the border of dark woods. 

Close to the ground danced what looked like stars, bobbing up and down as they fluttered in mismatched patterns. 

“Are we here?” Aqua asked, hushed as if to avoid disturbing the lights. 

Ven let out a noise of awe, very much awake. Terra straightened to shake him off his shoulders. Not that Ven minded - he was the first to approach the lights, an apprehensive hand reaching out as one zigzagged around his fingers.

“Wish fairies,” Terra said, which encouraged Aqua to step forward. “Some worlds call them prayer sprites, or ghouls.”

Ven laughed, herding a group as he chased them by the creek.  

Terra planned to feel proud of this moment, but Aqua shot him a cynical look. “Is this what you were researching?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Took me a while to find the right books. They travel in between worlds, appearing once every fifty years for a couple of days before moving on.”

“Does that mean they’re good luck?” Ven asked.

“They’re like shooting stars, they grant your wishes. They have a reputation for being a sign of significant change...” Terra was rambling and he lost sight of why he was there. None of the information moved Aqua, who crossed her arms. “It can’t be a coincidence they appeared just before our exam,” he finished with mediocre finesse. 

She stepped closer to him. “Did you think bringing me out here would make everything between us okay?”

If Ven heard what she said, he did an excellent job not showing it. He flopped onto the ground, his legs spread wide. Some of the wish fairies gathered closely to him, rolling in his palms. 

Terra brushed one hand through the hair on his neck. “I hoped so,” he murmured. 

She sighed, the smallest smile coming up as she watched Ven play. 

“Are you ready to talk?”

It was Terra’s turn to sigh. He was desperate, but now that the moment was here, he found he wasn’t ready to jump this chasm. The kiss seemed like a swamp, set up to drown them both. The feelings he had for her were disorganized at best, one voice begging to touch her and the other wanting to escape somewhere where she couldn’t find him for a decade. They were mean and juvenile. Hopeful and hopeless. If he was a worthy person, that kiss wouldn’t be destroying him now.

“I don’t compare to you,” he said, his voice low and shaky, regretful of every syllable that passed through his teeth.

“That’s what’s bothering you?” She leaned forward, forcing Terra to look at her. 

She didn’t allow him to reply, her body trembling with earnestness and confusion all the same. “You nearly pulverized me the other day. You… You’re wonderful- A wonderful Keybearer.” She shook her head, suddenly gawking at the horizon. “I’m not above you or better or… How could you think that? We’re equals. We’ll always be,” she said with fragile confidence, as though she was responding to doubt.

When she finished, she deflated. It gave Terra the impression that there was something else on her mind as well. 

Strangely, her words didn’t do much to help him feel better. She was always one to lift him up, and he did the same for her for so many years. Now they just seemed rehearsed, the reality of an exam that would test how far they’ve come looming over their shoulders. 

He wanted to believe they were equals. 

“You’re not afraid of the exam?” he asked.

She inhaled, eyes hard on the grass. Ven stopped playing, idle on his hands as the wish fairies danced on his legs.

“I’m afraid of change,” she said, bracing her fingers on her lips as though the words slipped. 

“What does that mean?”

Aqua hugged herself, her voice distant. “We’ve known nothing except training. I knew this day was coming, but it seemed like a dream. Now it’s here.”

“It is a dream. We’ve shared it.”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “But what about the after? We’ll have different responsibilities. Separate missions. I know that’s the point, but what if we don’t see each other anymore?”

“That won’t happen.” Terra swallowed. The Master did all of his duties alone, no friends to speak of. 

She pursed her lips. Terra wanted to kick himself. She needed her best friend. Now. Tomorrow. Yesterday. What in the world was he doing instead? 

“I’m an idiot,” he said.

“Should I even reply?”

“I shouldn’t have... There was just... One other thing that was on my mind.” She listened. He wished she would prod him. “The night of the feast, you…” He scoffed. “You got drunk.”

Her eyes widened. 

“It’s kind of crazier than that.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “You kissed me.”

Aqua caught her mouth open. 

But the gasp Terra heard wasn’t hers - it was Ven’s, who dropped his jaw and took in air as though he had witnessed his lifetime’s greatest scandal. 

“Do you mind?” Terra spat. 

Ven snapped his mouth shut and turned away.

“I’m so sorry, Terra,” Aqua said, horrified. Her cheeks turned rosy. “I’m sorry. Were you upset with me?”

Terra expected her to be penitent, but this - did she regret it? His heart sunk. “It’s fine,” he said, stopping himself from embracing her. “It wasn’t a big deal. The dumbest thing ever.” 

Aqua held her breath. She looked hurt. Did he say something wrong? Was he supposed to make it out to be important?

“I mean,” he forced a laugh. “It felt nice.”

She brought her hand to her chest and gaped. Oh no.

“But it was nothing. I’m being very stupid.”

She pouted.

What was he supposed to say?

“You didn’t answer my question,” Aqua breathed. “Did it upset you?”

“No.” He didn’t sound convincing. The kiss was awesome. Stop the dreams, I beg you. “I mean it. I didn’t know if it meant anything, or how to act afterward, and I think I made it worse than it was. There’s nothing else.” 

Nothing else. How it hurt to say.

She didn’t nod. “Promise me we’re okay?”

“Better than that. I promised to bring me back.”

Aqua seemed relieved. Much more relaxed in her shoulders. But something was still off. Her eyes went somewhere else, somewhere that made her sad. Terra only saw a flash of it before she picked herself up and smiled. It wasn’t natural. 

Ven was still listening - he didn’t say anything, but he shook his head in disapproval.

Things were supposed to be fixed by now. Wish fairies fluttered near. Terra felt an unfamiliar warmth radiating from it, a magic he didn’t recognize. Holding out a hand, he let it sit. An outline of wings glowed and dimmed, swirling patterns knitting across.

“What did you wish for?” Aqua asked. One sat in both of her hands.

Her. He let himself take one very selfish moment in the vicinity of a power far greater than him despite that he could crush it with his fingers. He prayed it knew that he didn’t have bad intentions. He wished for her. 

“That I pass the Mark of Mastery,” he said.

For someone who believed you had to work to make your dreams come true, that was the one time he actually sounded believable.

“What about you?”

She passed him a glance before shifting her gaze back to her visitor. “Oh. The same.”

He lobbed his hand and the wish fairy panicked, hovering close to his face. It was like it wanted him to take a message. He nearly leaned forward to hear, as silly as it made him feel, when he felt Aqua’s head on his bicep, testing it for the best spot. 

“You owe me the very least of being my pillow,” she giggled.

He could put his arm around her. He weighed the possibility, but opted to watch the way her eyelids resisted and lost the fight to stay open. 

“Can you guys get a room?” Ven called.

Aqua snapped, a deep crimson staining her cheeks. “Ven!”

It was enough to make Ven nervous, shakily getting on his feet. The wish fairies scattered. “Wh- What are you going to do?”

She summoned Rainfell, a chill building in the air. “I need target practice.”

“You can’t do that to me.”

“I suggest you survive what I plan to do.”

Whatever Ven felt transformed into an impish grin. “Catch me first.”

He ran laps as Aqua swung her Keyblade and made ice chunks implode. She missed. “Stand still.”

“I’ll tell the Master!”

Aqua was slow to respond. 

Ven launched himself up behind her. “Death to taxes!”

He knocked her to the ground, holding a firm grip around her shoulders. She was no Terra, not that much taller than Ven and surely not bigger. She attempted once to stand up, but she collapsed, crushed by his weight on her back. Her laughter lacked strength, a small bird’s song.

The sound of it hit Terra hard. He couldn’t shake off the gnawing fear that he let something precious slip through his fingers. That she was lost forever or that she was never his to begin with.

“Ven, I’m tired,” she begged.

“How about you promise me something?” 

She responded with a slap that landed nowhere, a giggling Ven shuffling away. Aqua nestled in the grass, sighing, as though all she needed were sheets and a pillow.

The least he could do was carry her. Taking her head on one arm and roping her knees with the other, Terra picked her up. She didn’t protest - she had to be dead tired not to - and instead clung onto his shoulders. She nuzzled her face into his neck, hiding her face away from the glare of the lanterns. Terra couldn’t help but notice her smell, a flowery sweat with a dash of perfumed soap. Vanilla? She was soft; his dream didn’t do her justice. He preferred it this way, though, over her being so far away, even at arm’s reach. 

Ven did him the favor of not saying anything stupid as they walked back to the castle. He chatted instead about his wish to see the worlds - something Terra was sure would happen one day, as soon as the Master deemed him old enough to. Aqua may have listened. Her breath slowed but she kept a strong grip on Terra.

“We still share the same dream, right?” she murmured when they got to her room. Ven waited outside - there was an implication there, but Terra chose to ignore it.

“Yeah.” Terra inhaled, her warmth the only thing in his mind. 

Her face left his neck, something he sorely missed. Standing up, Aqua held his elbow, glancing at his lips before looking back up at him. She nervously pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You said it felt nice.”

He froze, his tongue thick. “It- It was,” he stammered. 

Her eyes darted around the room, locking over her colorful glass work in progress. “There’s something we should talk about.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

“After the exam, I mean.” She fumbled with her fingers. It was strange to see her so unsure. Unbreakable Aqua. “We have too much going on right now.”

“Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“You okay?” he asked, brushing her hair with his fingers.

“If you are, I am.”

That again. “I told you, I’m fine.”

She squeezed him before letting go. Her hand smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt, splaying on his pecs. Her smile was tense. Brave.  

“Thanks,” she said. “They were lovely.”

Terra gently closed the door behind him as she retired to bed. Ven frowned. Like steam about to wheeze out of metal, he flipped a look at Terra on the verge of sputtering a lecture.

“You guys are ridic-”

Terra clamped a sharp hand on Ven’s mouth, picking his body up at his hip like carrying a log. Protests, insults, and sneers were muffled. Flailing kicks bumped the backs of Terra’s knees.  They didn’t have much of a punch, though.

When Terra entered Ven’s room, he had to stop. A warm, slimy brush grazed his palm.

“Ven! Gross.”

“You deserve it.”

Terra wiped his palm on his pants - he wasn’t going to let Ven go that easy. 

It wasn’t the same as throwing boulders for exercise, what with Ven being heavier than some and less cooperative, but Terra kept a firm hold on Ven’s thrashing body, lifting him high in the air. Ven still tried to wiggle free. Bless his heart.

Terra threw Ven onto the bed, who bounced before he settled.

“You need to be told a thousand times over: You’re an idiot,” Ven said, fixing his hair. 

“Go to sleep.”

“Did you expect things were going to go differently?”

Terra stopped at the door. “What do you mean?”

Ven grasped his forehead in disbelief. “You didn’t notice? You rejected her.”

“I did not.” Hope tasted sour in his mouth. 

“Seriously, you flat out made her think that nothing was going to happen between the two of you at all.”

“What do you want me to say?” Terra whipped over his shoulder.  

Ven wasn’t offended. If anything, he was amused, pleased with himself that he had Terra’s attention. His bedsheets were messy, and he kicked his legs under. “Anything. Something that sounds like the truth.”

Terra sighed with exasperation. Something like the truth meant the thought of her traveling to other worlds without him pricked the tiniest bit. It was the thought of her meeting new people. The thought of her sleeping in someone else’s bed made him nauseous. And he had to let her just to see her smile.

“We’re both very stressed.” Terra shrugged, pushing statues and books from other worlds off the top of Ven’s dresser, leaning his elbow on the surface. “It’s complicated.”

Ven rolled his eyes. “Come on. Give me something real.”

Something like the truth. Terra smirked. “She’s hot.”

Shock first. Disgust melted Ven’s outgoing expression into the horror of witnessing a scene he didn’t want to see. 

“Ugh, why would you tell me that?” He covered his ears before realizing it was too late already. “I thought you cared about me, man, I’m never gonna heal from this.”

Watching Ven squirm and mutter indecencies was a welcome amusement, but it didn’t last long. Terra took a seat at the foot of the bed, tucking one leg in and crossing his arms. Something like the truth gave him very little about this to find funny. 

For years he kept it to himself, and he was plenty fine with that. Never did he expect a day would come where he would hate that fact.

“I love her.”

The agony washed away from Ven’s face in a blur, his head raising from his hands. He nodded. Terra let himself wallow, appreciative that Ven understood how serious he meant it. That he did not have to explain himself. That there was some quiet.

“Thanks for not treating me like a little kid,” Ven said softly.

Tears tickled the back of Terra’s eyes and he quickly braced them with his arm before they fell. “No problem.”

“Will you tell her?”

Silence. “I don’t know.”

“You have to.”

“It’s the worst timing.” He couldn’t take her best friend away from her. “The Mark of Mastery is so close. We should be studying.”

“Then tell her after. At least it’d be off your chest.” That same, twisted grin that made Ven look like a sock puppet crept back up. “I think you’d like the answer she’d give you.”

Blush cooked under Terra’s cheeks. He jabbed a finger at Ven’s face. “You’re not going to say a thing.”

“I won’t… if you promise you will.”

He didn’t want to take the bait. But it was tempting. A surge of foolish bravery birthed from nowhere heated his body. “Okay,” he whispered.

Ven was pleased with himself. That happened too much. “You owe me thirty munny, by the way.”

“Shut up and sleep.” Terra stood up. 

“You’re still paying me tomorrow.”

“Make me.”

“Where’s your honor?”

“Up my ass.”

Ven waved his hand, as though he was commemorating art. “The tragic life of a best friend gone bad. Starring Terra Butt-Picker.”

“And Ven, the Destitute Boob.”

The hallway outside was still, but alight from the moon that glowed through Terra’s bedroom door. Telling Ven released a pressure akin to a valve loosening. At least someone validated Terra. At least he wasn’t crazy. Half of him considered knocking on Aqua’s door one more time. Get it out of the way. See if what Ven said was true. The other half knew better.

The clock was ticking and he had already wasted a day. Aqua’s door would still be there after the exam. 

Terra planned to pay most of the munny. Terra planned to take her to a world with lots of fireworks, where the colors could make her smile and he could finally say it. It’d be perfect. 

It was a comforting thought.

A/N: This chapter makes references to Disney’s Robin Hood (1973).

[idio-cies]

Tine and Anxiety

How are people feeling? Knowing that tomorrow is the last episode of this beautiful series? Sad? Excited? Don’t want it to be over? Same

Welp, this may or may not hurt when reading and probably won’t be my last meta/analysis on this series. Anyways... This is a long post folks, so make sure you are sitting comfortably.

I am almost certain that Tine accentuates some kind of anxiety.

I don’t like diagnosing people, but this is just something that I deeply relate Tine with. As a person who has CFS/ME with depression and anxiety, who also has a best friend with severe anxiety, my mum and sister also having depression as well as having many other friends with mental health issues revolving around anxiety and/or depression and doing a lot research both on anxiety and depression. I know the ins and outs of these mental illnesses. I will not go into further detail because as I am trying by hardest to not sound like an obnoxious twat whilst writing this.

I came across this article so I could check that I was right about relationship anxiety which Tine does express. This is pretty self-explanatory so you can read at your own leisure if you wish, but as a brief summary relationship anxiety most likely comes out of previous bad relationships, low self-esteem an attachemnt style one has grown up with in childhood (honestly this is another thing entirely, I talk a little bit about this here), but also relies on knowing oneself, having good communication etc.It just screams out here.

I need to clear things up as well before I really start getting in deep. It is correct that every human being has self-doubt, it is intrinsic to the human psyche, there is no doubt about it, unless you are self-righteous or have learnt that you are loved and you can love yourself a healthy amount, then good for you! This video is a good summary of how disliking oneself is natural human response

Now, where anxiety related to Tine comes in is the fact that he ruminates, he worries excessively and his automatic response to things going wrong he places on himself, and just in general has such a deep lack of self-worth and self-love that all you wanna do is cuddle him all day. This takes it further than what a normal human beings response is. 

Tine obsesses, and as a result makes him spiral and becomes unwell. Rumination is both a feature of Anxiety and depression. This is where things get tricky because Depression and Anxiety work hand in hand, with some traits crossing over (such as rumination), you can also have panic attacks with depression as well. The reason why I think it is anxiety is because of how things morphed with Tine, how he worried himself to be literally sick on more than one occasion

and it looks like he does the same this week. You can see the IV and how he is laying 

and he doesn’t to eat

This is not “normal human behaviour”. Worrying so much it makes you ill is one thing (see article here), but actively avoiding food is another thing. It’s another response people have when they are under extreme stress, though people can also over eat.

My analysis of “Escape” supports rumination.

There is no category that I will place him. I will leave this article here for people to go through if they are interested (I’m sorry, I know this is a lot of links, I just want to prove what I’m saying). 

so, when we meet Tine he seems like this ball of energy, he comes across as self-righteous with his Mr Chic facade

But that’s the thing: it’s a facade, it’s a coping mechanism, which shields him. I wouldn’t say that this is a classic example of anxiety as anyone can put up a front to hide all sorts of things. I know that I used to have facades or personalities I use in front of people.

Anyway, this Mr. Chic persona was all that, a persona, he took refuge in it. Which is why we see the comeback of it in ep 9 as he was experiencing some stage fright mixed with a heck of a lot of self-doubt and stress, which Green had identified was a coping mechanism!!!!

This front was used in order to block himself from being hurt, from rejection and from life in general, as well as of course criticism. His friends aren’t the brightest bunch, though evidently Fong (bless his heart) is very emotionally intelligent and let us know that they were aware of Tine and how he self-imposes on himself, has to prove his worth etc

This explains why he was so fatalistic in ep 11

Because he is still putting himself on trial and their relationship

It was legit after the tree got trodden on it all went wrong 

Poor Nuisance Tree... RIP

Anyway, but as friends do, they tease each other, which is ultimately something that Tine is afraid of. He doesn’t like the teasing. Based on my perspective of teasing, I bite back with teasing, but it may be because it’s because I am sensitive about it. Tine by no means has my temper, so it doesn’t surprise me if he is effected and is scared to be teased because in all actuality, he is sensitive about those topics. 

Next, he gets obsessed. People noticed about not moving on from Sarawat, there are a few explanations. 1. they needed it for Sarawat’s popularity to broadcast it 2. I bet you Tine got intrigued 3. potentially, he got obsessed with the idea. Tine was adamant to “get rid of Green” this in of itself was an obsession and no fucking wonder it backfired. Some, “normal, healthy” people I’m sure would’ve moved on, but oh no, not this dumbass quartet

Which is another thing. He is heavily influenced by his friends. Naturally, a person listen and adapt their thinking to their peers, but some don’t and are adamant in their thoughts. What gets me here is that Tine practically doesn’t allow himself to think for himself very much. I mean, it’s natural to go to friends for advice, but he was always very quick to go “yeah you’re right”. He is too easily swayed by what his friends tell him or their philosophies. Go look at episode 8 1/4 6:50 onwards. He concludes so quickly... Though I guess in this round, he felt it was right.

As soon as he sees one “fit” per se, that is it, which is apt as he is always been on the search for “the one”

(It will not surprise me if this series does full circle, and has Tine going to Sarawat once more as Sarawat did all of the chasing after this... kinda)

Tine can make up his mind very quickly once he sees fit. The only time he has really made sense and not listened to his friends fully was when he realised he loved Sarawat, and he went hell for leather on proving himself in episode 9. 

Tine had to prove himself in order to be worthy of Sarawat to love him, he thought he had failed, but Sarawat showed him a different perspective. Sarawat is very good at comforting Tine and showing him a new perspective... 

Sarawat is so good in this scene, because he tells Tine (in their little hypothetical language) that it is up to Tine is in control (which he felt he wasn’t), that Sarawat won’t pressure him, and that he is enough just as he is. That he doesn’t need to prove himself.

To a degree he helps every time, but as I have said before, if Tine is anything like me, those affirmations are useless after a couple hours max.

This post and also this one are really good at explaining Sarawat, and my perception of the last episode, so please also give those a read because I don’t want to repeat and make this even longer than it is! I do not blame Sarawat, and understand that it is human to make mistakes, which is also why I am making this post, because Tine is also wrong and is not helping their relationship or himself!!!

The time when he did believe in them was during episode 10 with Type in the house... it was extraordinary

Sorry I love Sarawat’s reaction to this

It’s like “Okay, you got it, why you gotta be so cute tho” 

Then the next week it goes downhill again and he believes that he is the one causing everything to go wrong (ahem, look at the first article)

He puts all the blame on himself... But Sarawat was always there to tell him that it was okay, that he was there with him, never got angry, just gave him smiles and headpats galore while looking at him with all the love in the world

I had to add in the “lets go to bed” bit here 

because I feel like it’s under appreciated. Sarawat was continuously telling Tine “we can look for it later, lets focus on this for now” and did a little nod. He was trying to help Tine not feel so bad, he recognised it and tried to give him comfort. He tried setting an agenda, so that Tine didn’t need to be overwhelmed with processing too many things if that makes any sense? He cares a lot and knew it was bothering him. It didn’t work as Tine was riddled with guilt, so he wasn’t satiated by it unfortunately, but this trip really did churn everything up :/ 

It’s just super hard to get Tine to feel alright in himself, but Sarawat is so lovely about it all. He loves Tine so much, so this week is going to hurt so bad when Tine tries to break things off as it is just going to be so difficult to make sure Tine is secure in himself and the relationship... I better stop

The fact that this is the state Tine puts himself in, again and again screams anxiety to me. The facade kept things up for a while, but I would not be surprised if this is how he went through life for quite some time. Plus the fact that Type also shows this need for a facade by trying to be a perfectionist is very interesting as well. 

Of course, I can be wrong in all of this. Please don’t hold me to it, but as a person who profoundly resonates with Tine, and would consider myself to be well versed in anxiety, I think that Tine most likely does have a form of anxiety. He just takes “self-doubt” to the next level. 

As always I am welcome to discussion! Credits to those blogs with the posts I linked to! 

Thank you for reading, I hope you guys are all staying safe, and I look forward to tomorrows episode ^-^ 

I am so not ready to let it go 😭😭

[wordsablaze]

7~ Isolation

Magic and Misery Merlin might use magic to help Arthur but he rarely uses it to help himself, which leads to an awful lot of misery… written for whumptober, enjoy!

A/N: sorry if this reads strangely, i’ve failed to avoid the cold season so i’m generally a bit hazy, you know?

-

Arthur was not known to be unjust.

Most people that knew him could comfortably say he played fairly and was never unnecessarily harsh.

Even Merlin, who complained daily to any Knights willing to lend an ear, would never go as far as calling Arthur unjust. It just wouldn’t be right.

But unfortunately, Arthur was an apple that had, with a little help, rolled very far away from the tree. 

So when a guard finally catches Merlin sneaking around the vaults at night with next to no explanation and brings him to the king as dawn breaks, Uther doesn't hesitate to punish him. 

By throwing him in the dungeons.

Merlin doesn’t even try to explain himself, knowing that, without revealing his magic, he’d only be able to make the situation worse for himself. He glances over to Arthur as the guard behind him drags him to his feet and flinches at the disappointment he sees. 

Of course Arthur would be disappointed in him, he’d only gone and ruined the trust between them and possibly doomed all of Camelot, not to mention Albion.

So Merlin keeps his head lowered as he’s lead to the dungeons, a route that’s become alarmingly familiar to him over time. He only looks up when his familiar route turns into a new path that he doesn’t recognise.

“Wait, where are we going?” he asks.

“Shut up. The King has decided he doesn’t want you taking up space in the regular dungeons,” one of the two guards answers, pushing him along when he pauses to think on that.

“But-”

“No talking,” the other guard interjects, leading him through corridors he hasn’t yet explored until they get to a row of small cells, cells even smaller than his chambers. 

“Wait, I-” 

The guards only glare at him, one of them pushing him roughly into the cell so he goes sprawling, landing awkwardly on his wrists. 

“We’ll see you when the king deems fit. Try not to die.” 

Merlin scrambles to his feet as they start to leave. “Wait!”

They don’t.  

Their footsteps echo for far too long before some kind of gate is closed and silence surrounds Merlin like some sort of malicious hug. 

He takes a few minutes to look around but the cell seems perfectly ordinary, with stone walls and bars at the front. There’s no sort of bed though, so Merlin will have to settle with the cold floor, although that’s not incredibly difficult. 

The only that really stands out is the distinct lack of light. There are no windows, the corridor seems to go on forever, and there seems to only be a few fixed fires along this mysterious passage, none of which are outside his cell. It seems that darkness is part of his punishment.

Merlin sighs and slumps to the floor, wondering if Arthur or the other Knights will be able to come and visit him like they usually do. It doesn’t seem likely.

There’s no light so he has no concept of time, at least not after he dozes off the first time because that means he loses count of the minutes and has to give up on keeping track. He tries pacing but it just tires him out and they don’t seem to be bothered about food so he discards that idea immediately. 

He ends up falling asleep without meaning to, unaware that Arthur is furiously talking with his knights above him to try and figure out where Merlin is being kept.

Merlin stirs as metal hits metal.

By the time his eyes have opened, there’s a plate of food - quite a lot of food that’s probably meant to last the whole day - at the entrance of his cell and the sound of receding footsteps in the air.

“Wait, hang on!” Merlin jumps to his feet but he can’t see anyone, which implies that they’d been told to avoid talking to him. 

He just sights and mentally calculates how much he needs to ration throughout the day - not that he has any way of working out what time of day it is - before taking a bread roll and slowly eating it, making sure to savour every bite. 

It’s dull.

Not the bread, the bread is lovely. Slightly stale but soft and enough to satiate his hunger. No, the bread isn’t dull.

The cell is dull.

Merlin groans for what must be the hundredth time as he heard someone’s footsteps again, only to realise nobody is coming towards him. He’s done so plenty of times already and should probably know better than to still hope, but he can’t help it.

He assumes it’s the fourth day - because he’s been given three plates of food, plus the first day where he got none - when something finally happens. 

He must have dozed off because he’s awoken by something being thrown at him. 

“Ow!” Merlin winces at the sound of his own voice; it sounds obnoxiously loud in the silence and he’d taken to staying so quiet that even his own footsteps made him jump at this point.  

And it’s not even that it had hurt, it’d just been a blanket.

There’s a guard staring at him in confusion but, when he catches Merlin’s eye, he straightens and clears his throat. “It’s going to be a cold night,” he warns, nodding his head to the blanket.

“Uh, thanks?” Merlin replies, pulling the blanket towards himself. 

“Yeah,” the guard agrees, clearly not knowing what he’s doing, and briskly turns to leave before Merlin can ask anything else.

Sighing, Merlin just slumps back down the wall and wraps the blanket around him, grabbing another piece to bread to nibble on. 

By the time his eyes are dropping again, he’s counted every crack in the bricks, twice over. There’s far too many for the walls to be structurally stable, and yet here he is, confined to the company of a blanket.

His head hits the floor with a dull thud and he groans, sleep vanishing from his mind as pain fills his thoughts. Cursing at himself for not preventing such a thing, Merlin just rolls his shoulders back and yawns. 

“Another great probably-morning to me,” he mumbles, shivering. 

The guard was right: It had been a cold night. And his blanket hadn’t helped in the slightest. The little Gaius in his head tells him that the minimal food and lack of hydration haven’t helped either, but he ignores that thought because there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He decides to just keep his eyes shut. 

There’s a slight risk of going insane if he keeps them open so he doesn’t. He just lets himself stay propped up by the corner, waiting. 

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for what?

Anything.

It’s definitely one of the worst punishments he’s been given, Merlin decides. 

He can’t wait for something to happen. He’d even take someone trying to kill him. Or someone trying to use him to kill Arthur. Or someone using Arthur to kill him, at least that’d be more entertaining. 

So he keeps waiting, desperately waiting. 

And, finally, his wait is over.

“Merlin, you idiot, why’d you have to go and get yourself thrown into dungeons I didn’t even know existed?” An exasperated voice inquires. 

An exasperated but beautiful, mercifully loud, voice.

“Arthur?”

“I didn’t know you could see with your eyes closed.” 

Merlin’s eyes fly open so fast, it takes him a moment to blink the bright daze away from them. And then he smiles, brightly, genuinely.

“Arthur!” 

He’s up on his feet in an instant, but then he stops, remembering the disappointment he’d seen in Arthur’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Arthur just scoffs. “I’m sure you are, Merlin. But you’ll be sorrier when you see the state of my chambers!” 

Merlin frowns, finally looking at Arthur, relishing in the ability to see another human being, a sign that he’s not going mad.

“You’re not… mad?” he asks tentatively, wanting to test the waters he’d so dearly missed before diving back in.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “I’m not mad you were sneaking around, Merlin, I know that’s part of your so-called charm. But I am mad that you got caught. I mean, surely you’ve learned something by now?” 

Merlin opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out. He’d expected a lot of things and had been given plenty of time to imagine all sorts of outcomes, but this was something he couldn’t have predicted in a thousand years.

“Thank you,” Merlin manages to say, beaming once more. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur replies sincerely, surprising Merlin even more. “I’d forgotten such isolation was even an option and… and I promise, I won’t let you be punished like this again.” 

For a second, silence fills the room again. 

Then Arthur clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, surely my father knows it’s ridiculous to expect me to go a week without my manservant. It’s barbaric and none of the other servants know how to tidy my things away properly...” 

Merlin smiles. 

After a pause, Arthur smiles back. 

And somehow, Merlin thinks, it’s worth the wait. 

-

Again, sorry for mistakes and stuff... not that people really read my stuff on tumblr anyway...

-

like/reblog but please don’t repost, thanks! masterlist

[onlynear]

NOW. i know sol isn’t mine like i don’t go here but he’s got the most notable examples of yellowblood/mutant powers in canon, and in order to talk about mituna’s psionics i have to draw from him! let’s get into it.

VOICES OF THE DOOMED. 

sollux hears voices of the recently deceased and they tell him that alternia is doomed. it’s important to note that this happens before the trolls begin to play sgrub -- this is very specifically part of sollux’s mutation, and not something he achieves through being the mage of doom. similarly, mituna, being a yellowblood mutant, experiences premonitions (frequently brushed off by others as paranoia and gut feelings) about other trolls, and the danger they pose to both mituna himself and the party at large (noteable examples are meenah, who he hates not only because he just doesn’t like her but because she gives him intense visions and migraines) and damara (who he knows to be extremely deadly). mituna, while not as academically-minded as sollux, is pretty genre-savvy, and he’s able to differentiate his mutant-visions from the classpect-visions he gets later on. 

MIND HONEY.

mind honey, as we see in canon, merely enhances existing psionics. it’s incredibly unhealthy for yellowbloods, as it’s addictive and acts almost like sopor slime, in a way -- it makes sollux’s lusus dimwitted and satiated, and loosens any inhibitions and ability to think rationally, do anything requiring fine motor skills and, most importantly, prevents a mutated yellowblood from keeping their powers at bay. as we see in canon, both captors keep their eyes covered (mituna, even pre canon, wears his hair thick and over his eyes, as he constructs his helmet with his alchemiser once he enters sgrub) -- this is because, should their eyes go uncovered, it’s much easier for psionics to fire out ad-hoc should they feel any intense emotions. seen as mituna’s psionics, post-accident, are broken, mind honey doesn’t power them up anymore, but it DOES soothe the almost constant chronic pain he’s in (migraines, muscle aches, pain in his eyes), and so his lusus feeds it to him in order to balm him, just a little.

PSIONICS.

now. this is the good part. as we see just before sollux gets ko’d by eridan (’ready, prince?’), sollux’s psionics are under his control -- he either powers them up himself, charging them before he has to use them in a fight, or they’re tied to his emotions. i like to think it’s a little bit of both, and that’s why mituna is so unsteady once his psionics are broken -- a very real and very major part of his mind has just shattered completely, and he can’t regulate nearly anything (memory, feeling, social cues, etc) in the same way as he could before. 

a lot can be learned about psionics from the eridan and sollux duel, in fact: when sollux uses his psionics to levitate himself, his glasses come up onto his head, thus solidifying that keeping a captor’s eyes covered nullifies their powers somewhat, sollux is clearly less Present in the battle than eridan is (which is to say, sollux is stationary and channelling all of his energy into his psionics, where eridan is able to react and move and cast his Science Spells with more autonomy), all of the force of the pisonics does in fact stem from a captor’s eyes, etc. i believe that not only was it eridan’s hope (or more accurately lack thereof) was just... stronger than sollux’s psionics in the moment, but also the massive strain sollux underwent trying to beat eridan that lead to him getting knocked unconscious. psionics are hard work. using them a little leads to drowsiness, using them a lot leads to exhaustion, and using them too much leads to death, as we see when sollux dies after piloting the meteor. mituna burned himself out in such a way that he almost died (reminiscent of sollux’s half-death). i wouldn’t call him lucky, but it was a close call, for sure.

SPECIFIC TO MITUNA.

‘eli,’ i hear you saying, ‘you literally do not write sollux’. to this i say I KNOW but their powers are BALANCED BY EACH OTHER just stick with me here!! so. i don’t by any means want to discredit sollux -- he is immensely powerful, after all -- but mituna, being older and more relaxed (tbh just in general) in terms of his status as a mutant and his powers (which he actively practised using from a young age) is... more so, when it comes to psionics. i’m also very confident in saying mituna would be incredibly average at programming and such, which is where the balance comes in, yk? two sides of the same coin with different expertise. 

mituna was an incredibly powerful psionic to boot. his powers went beyond that of just powering spaceships, telekinesis, levitation, etc -- if used correctly (or, rather, correctly by evil), mituna could have been an incredibly deadly and horrific doomsday weapon. he also had vision twofold, two dreamselves, and,of course, his preminitions about the future, which he tried time and time again to warn others about, to no avail. the trouble is with mituna being who he is (loud, obnoxious bordering on abrasive, mischievous, snarky and cynical by nature but most always up for a bit of fun, essentially a wildcard), it was very easy to not take him seriously, call him biased and move on. mituna assumed that he, as the sole prophet and one of two believers (the other being kurloz, natch) was to be the one to take out the threat he predicted was going to wipe out his friends and doom their session. unfortunately, this was a case of wrong genre savvy -- mituna, being heir of doom, WAS the threat (or, more specifically, his psionics were), and the best outcome of him going to neutralise said threat was always going to be the accident that rendered him changed for good.

however. i am by no means saying that it wasn’t GREATLY thanks to kurloz’ chuckevoodoo and his input that mituna is As Bad As He Is. kurloz was there, accompanied him to this great overexertion and his mind control had some hand in ruining mituna. of course, we have no idea what happened (other than mituna burned himself out heroically, saving everybody only for meenah, who he’d prophesied about all along, to kill them all anyway), but i refuse to believe that kurloz being there doesn’t have some greater bearing on what went down.

now. as for him not knowing if he’s god tier or not: my gut instinct would be no. however. i think his confusion on the matter lends itself to the idea that he may have been close to going god tier -- perhaps getting halfway there (keeping with the two theme) or intending to at least before he burned himself out. as heir is someone who either becomes (literal) or is changed by/inspires change by their aspect (metaphorical), and doom as a class represents sacrifice (metaphorical) and control over death and destruction (literal), i’m okay with saying that god tier mituna would be absolutely formidable, as long as he was his coherent self.

mituna uses his psionics before sgrub, and once he enters the game and crafts his helmet, his specubus becomes ‘helmetkind’ (later ‘hemletkind’, naturally). he can go longer using them than sollux can (and most yellowbloods, actually), but that itself is dangerous, as he can often drain himself without even realising he’s about to do so. not having the psionics is very distressing for him later on, especially as the incident is so fragmented that he doesn’t exactly understand what he did to break his powers so thoroughly. the psionics are not a separate part of mituna -- they are tied so closely to his brain that each affects the other, and destroying his psionics only lead to him being the way he is now, with no way to recover. 

[thewhiterabbit42]

The Long Road Home: Part 1

Summary: Fate made you and Gabriel soulmates, but a spell has severed your bond completely and removed the archangel from your reality.  Will you be able to find your way back to each other or will you both remain lost?   (Sequel to Homeless)

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader, Destiel (side pairing)

Warnings/tags: angst, soulmates

Word Count: 4556

Author’s Note: This was written for June’s @gabriel-monthly-challenge statement prompt:

He remembered how excited he used to feel watching the sunrise.  Now all it brought was exhaustion and dread.  

Special thanks to my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62.  

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

Gabriel had never been good with rules.  Well, that wasn’t completely true.  He was fantastic at breaking them.  Anything other than that, however, was a little iffy.  

He got it.  He really did.  You weren’t a fan of surprises.  He imagined most of your aversion to him stemmed from the fact he couldn’t help but be a constant one, though it wasn’t like it was his idea to have stealth mode permanently activated with you.  

He also understood how it might feel a little creeptastic having a stranger around without your knowledge.  Except he wasn’t one.  He was your father damn soulmate. 

Not that that little fact mattered much anymore.  

You couldn’t see him.  You couldn’t touch him.  You couldn’t feel him.  You couldn’t even remember him.  Every shred of evidence he had ever existed had been erased from your life.  The worst part of it all?  You barely wanted to acknowledge him.  

Father forbid, however, he didn’t acknowledge you or your damn sanctions.  

One of the three stooges was supposed to let you know when he entered the room.  If you were alone, Gabriel was expected to announce himself.  He had preferred to do it with gifts, to show you that he wasn’t as awful as you seemed to think.  When he noticed how most of them ended up tucked out of sight (or in the case of edibles, discreetly in the trash), he decided his cup was filled with enough disappointment these days, (not to mention a more conventional route might save you all on your lightbulb bill).

So now he opened doors.  He moved chairs.  He passed you the sugar when you were making your coffee.  He tried to do things that would be helpful.  

Nothing made a difference.  

He still wasn’t allowed to follow you outside the bunker without a chaperone as though he might leap on you the first chance he had.  Everyone seemed to forget that one, minor little detail about how he’d just pass right through you, even if he tried.  But no.  He had to be treated like some predator because, more importantly, he was not permitted, under any circumstances, in your bedroom.  

Which was where he most certainly was not right now.  

As much as he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, some nights he couldn’t help but slip in after you fell asleep.  He would lay on the edge of the bed, lean frame stretched out, parallel to yours.  He never touched you, though it wasn’t because it wouldn’t make a difference.  There were some lines even he wouldn’t cross.  Knowing you wanted nothing to do with him, let alone his hands, made that one of them.

He often wondered why he even did this.  In these quiet moments, the memories haunted him in ways that had pain blossoming, gouging aching paths so deep within him he wasn’t sure it would ever reach bottom.  He recalled every detail about how the warmth of your body curled up against his when you slept, the way your scent would linger on his clothes when you got out of bed, how perfect you felt against him -- Father did he miss how you felt -- from the tips of your fingers to soft strands of hair, his hands shook with the need to touch you again.  Anywhere.  Everywhere.    

He would give up everything just to feel you, solid, beneath his hands again, to worship you until you called his name in ways that suggested you weren’t the only one being deified.   

He would sacrifice his grace if it meant he was even just allowed to hold you one more time, to feel your life force mingle with his.  To feel whole again.  Complete. 

The emptiness left behind by your bond was devouring him.  It gnawed along the edge of his existence, an ever hungry void that he couldn’t satiate no matter what he fed it.  What was really dismantling him, however, piece by jaded piece, was your indifference.  

He knew it wasn’t your fault.  Why would you love someone you couldn't remember?  How could you understand the depths of a connection when you had nothing with which to compare it?  It didn’t stop the slap to his face from stinging every time you were eager to run off on a new case.  

Sam was usually the one that tagged along to make sure someone had your back.  Dean, surprisingly enough, was the one staying behind and spearheading the ongoing search for a way to undo the magic.  He rarely left the bunker anymore unless it was with Cas to check out a potential lead on some lore.  

Gabriel expected the dedication from his younger sibling (he knew Cas had always been a favorite for a reason).  Dean, however, was a pleasant surprise considering the man had only ever tolerated him, though that was mainly because you threatened to leave if he didn’t.  Without your support, Gabe fully expected to find himself excommunicated from the bunker (and subsequently your life).   

Kill a man a few thousand times and suddenly he acted like Gabriel was always going to kill him (and everyone around them).  He figured he’d have to die, again, for Dean to finally move past that.  Apparently all it took was being ripped away from his soulmate.  

Then again, there might have been some bonding over both of their lingering daddy issues when Chuck disappeared without so much as a goodbye or a forwarding address for a second time.  At least Papa Winchester had taken the road of redemption and gone out saving his son’s soul.  Gabriel’s father?  Well, he wasn’t sure where in Creation Chuck was at the moment, but he had clearly shut his phone off when he and Auntie Amara had taken their little family vacation.   

Nothing short of this little fiasco would have had Gabriel even considering reaching out to the Almighty ass the universe had deemed worthy of being an all powerful Creator.  At least this time he knew better this time than to expect a response.  His father had walked out on everything, ignoring prayers and his sons for millennia.  There was no reason to believe he’d start listening now, least of all to the black sheep of the family.

When Gabriel caved and asked for help for the first time since he’d left home, it didn’t stop the silence from sounding that much more empty...

…the same way it did during these long nights.  

What kept him from slipping into dangerous waters was the very thing responsible for him nearly drifting away.  You couldn’t see him.  As long as he could spend this time with you, as long as he could close his eyes and pretend that the world had not given him the biggest middle finger in existence, he could convince himself he could make it through another day.  

When he was really lucky, he could convince himself that nothing had changed.  He could breathe in your scent and for a few minutes could hide within the reticence that only came under the cover of darkness.  Coming out of these moments, however, was the hardest.  

He never stayed the full night.  He could never stand to watch you go through a routine that no longer included him.  It was so different.  Foreign.  Almost clinical in how precise it had become.  Wake up, roll out of bed, shower, brush your teeth, get dressed, head to the kitchen.  All within the same amount of time it used to take for either of you to even contemplate getting out from beneath the covers.

It wasn’t your fault you didn’t remember how that first hour or so was reserved for only the two of you.  It wasn’t your fault you didn’t miss how he always started it with a kiss (that often led to other activities depending on where said affection was placed).  You hadn’t chosen to forget all the conversations you had about the past, about the future, about each other.  Yet, watching you go about your day without him was too much of a reminder that your world could go on just fine without him while his stood at a standstill.  

Often, he found himself perched on the roof of the bunker, waiting for the sun to creep over the horizon.  A new day could mean a new chance, to make this right, to even just find some small way to reconnect, but more often than not he found it just brought new opportunities for you to smack him in the face with just how little you wanted to do with him.  

Finding his soulmate had given him a spark of hope, a dangerous sentiment he had had avoided at all costs, and you had nurtured it into something bright and beautiful.  You helped him believe that as long as you both made it to the start of a new day together, everything would be fine and he remembered how excited he used to feel watching the sunrise.  Now all it brought was exhaustion and dread.  

It was always a tossup whether life would begin to stir outside the bunker walls before you did.  Today, the world rose first, the birds chirping their obnoxiously happy melodies before he picked up on the first whispers of your consciousness.  He tracked your presence through the bunker, waiting until you reached the neutral territory of the kitchen before snapping himself back inside.  

He found you glaring at the sink full of dirty dishes, hands slamming the cupboards in frustration as you searched for a clean cup.  The coffee maker gave a final slurping noise, signalling it had finished its brew.  This only seemed to feed your ire.

“Doesn’t anyone remember how to do the damn dishes around here?” You grumbled.  He snapped and a mug appeared on the counter in front of you.  You froze, your body going rigid as you just stared at the object as if it might try to go for your throat at any moment.

“Thanks, Gabriel,” you said stiffly.

He didn’t need to dip into your mind to know gratitude was not what you felt toward him at that moment.  

He didn’t know how to fix this.  He didn’t know how to make you comfortable again.  Sam, Dean, and Cas had all gone to bat for him, reassuring you he wasn’t some lecherous creeper stalking you at every turn.  Yet, you continued to be unsettled by the possibility he might be there.  Watching.  Waiting.  

Technically, he usually was, but not in the way you clearly imagined.

Unsure of how to proceed, he did the only thing he could think of.  He snapped up the breakfast he had made you, minus his mojo, the day he’d finally stopped being stubborn and admitted he loved you.  In his nervousness, he’d nearly botched the whole thing.   The pancakes had come out horribly disfigured.  The sausage had all come out charred on one side.  He’d completely forgotten that you were on a bacon and cinnamon waffles kick.  The eggs had been the only thing to come out fine, though he later learned you preferred them over easy with toast rather than scrambled (something he had remembered this time around).

His fingers slipped into his pocket, idly tracing over the pendant he had yet to give back to you.  As with anything he tried these days, all he could do was wait.  When he caught the disinterested look on your face, he decided it was a good idea to do it somewhere else before he blew the whole fuse box again.

***

There were rules for a reason.  Usually it was to keep people from doing stupid things like lying about angels being stuffed into their sibling’s body or thinking that hugely powerful removal spells targeting things like the Mark of Cain could be cast without cosmic consequences.  These days, however, it was mostly because you didn’t know what to do knowing there was likely an archangel watching your every move.   

You trusted your friends when they said Gabriel wasn’t something to worry about, but Dean and Cas were particularly persistent to the point it felt less like reassurance and more like they were hounding you.  Well, Dean was hounding, Cas was a little more tactful, but it was clear they sympathized more with the archangel than they did with you.  

Sam was the only one who listened when you said you were uneasy.  He had always been one of the few people, possibly the only person, you felt truly understood you.  He not only paid attention to what you said, but to the subtleties that whispered truths beneath your guarded or deflective actions.  His perception and his sympathetic personality made him able to see through your walls when others remained caught outside.

Having someone who knew you well enough to slip past your defenses without you even knowing was becoming a blessing.  There were times, however, where it could be dangerous.  More and more often, you noticed he seemed conflicted whenever the topic of Gabriel came up, as if suspecting there was more to your unease than you were letting on.  

His instincts were right.  Chuck willing, however, he and the rest of Team Free Will would never find out why.   

Which left you on your own when dealing with the staggering notion that an archangel, one of the most absolute and terrifying beings in existence, was your soulmate.

The term tugged at the back of your mind, skirting the fringe of your understanding, like an echo of a memory so distant it might as well have been from another lifetime.  Whenever you tried to reach for it, it skittered further away, leaving an inexplicable emptiness in its wake.  It tore through your very being, threatening to pull you into something dark, something infinite, and something completely beyond your understanding.  

It wasn’t the unknown that scared you so much as the nothingness that seemed to erode at the very edges of your existence every time that rift opened.

So you did your best to avoid it, which wasn’t hard.  There were no memories of this being, no lingering inklings of emotion.  You couldn’t even find a single photograph of him and you together.  If Cas hadn’t insisted it was true, you still wouldn’t believe it wasn’t just an elaborate joke Sam and Dean were trying to pull to get back at you for Florida.

Despite their assurance that Gabriel was not like his brothers, it didn’t make you feel any less on edge whenever you found yourself alone.  

Mornings always felt the most tense, though you weren’t certain why.  It might have been the fact it was hit or miss someone would be around to confirm whether or not you had extra company.  Cas seemed to be most in tune with this and often met you somewhere between your room and the kitchen.  Today, he was nowhere to be found, and you uncomfortably made your way through the halls.  

Your nervousness was overshadowed by frustration when you reached the kitchen and were reminded just how integral the angel was to other aspects of your life.

“Doesn’t anyone remember how to do the damn dishes around here?”  You muttered as you scoured the kitchen for something, anything to put your coffee in.  At this point, you’d drink it from a bowl if you had to, so long as you could drink it.  

You were going to have a long talk with your housemates about how being big, damn, world saving heroes, did not make them exempt from basic household responsibilities.  

Something appeared in your sidevision and when you found a clean cup waiting for you on the counter, you froze.  The flames of your anger became muted as shades from the past reverberated through your mind.  You did your best to push them back beneath the surface, but shadows were not things easily seized or caged.  To subdue them, you needed light, something that was becoming harder and harder to find.  

You did your best to stay tethered to logic.  It was just Gabriel’s way of telling you he was there.  He was trying to be helpful.  More importantly, he was solving your problem of being severely decaffeinated and more likely to commit homicide than actually wash anything.   

You managed to regain your footing and with it came your manners.  “Thanks, Gabriel.”

By the time you turned around, your favorite breakfast was waiting for you as well.  The eggs were a little off.  Over easy with toast was fine, but you would have preferred scrambled.  

Well, you would have if you were even hungry.  

Gabriel hadn’t been the only thing to disappear since the fight with Dagon.  Your appetite had made itself scarce and most days you needed reminders to even eat.  Sam was a better than Dean with these types of things, but it was really the archangel who made sure you didn't pass out from low blood sugar.

He may have also been trying to give you diabetes from all the sugar he tried to feed you, but that was besides the point.

“Thanks, but I'm not really hungry,” you told him.  You had intended to just grab some coffee before heading to the library.  Cas had left you an ancient druidic text on bonding magic and you wanted to at least get a chance to look at it before a new case cropped up.  Now you weren’t sure what to do.  It seemed a little rude to just leave, but it wasn't like you could do anything other than make one sided small talk, and even then, what the hell did one say to their former soulmate?    

“Wow,” Sam said as he strode through the doorway, brows raising as he took in the full table in front of him.  “Someone’s been busy.”

“Gabriel,” you told him.  

“Oh.  Right,” he realized, idly scratching at the back of his head as he caught the unspoken question in your gaze.  “He’s not here.”

His smile was sympathetic, and when you let out a sigh you hoped your relief at Gabriel’s absence was never palpable enough for the angel to notice.  Just because he was a complete stranger and put every nerve of yours on edge didn’t mean you didn’t feel something in regards to him.

Unfortunately, most days it just happened to be not a whole lot.  

You knew it was the magic.  Extremely harrowing experiences may have left you more closed off than the average hunter, but that only meant it took you longer to trust or to let someone into your life in any meaningful way.  It didn’t mean you stopped knowing how to empathize.  

Every now and then, Gabriel’s plight trailed along on the coattails of something that stirred that sentiment.  The emotion had to be burning particularly bright and vivid, but sometimes, if you caught it at just the right moment, the afterglow would spill over onto him and something would spark.  Only it was like trying to start a fire in the middle of a downpour that had been raging for biblical lengths of time.  Nothing dry remained for anything to catch, and those tiny embers faded just as quickly as they appeared.   

You kept reminding yourself how awful it would be, having everything that mattered ripped away from you in the blink of an eye.  

You had yet to find it made much of a difference.  

“Big plans today?”  Sam asked, idly grabbing a piece of fruit off the table on his way through and popping it into his mouth.

“Library.  Cas dropped off a book for me.”  You watched as he began the same hunt you had a few minutes before. “Nothing's clean, by the way.”

Your friend changed course, walking over to a cupboard attached to the ceiling on the opposite side of the room.  He reached inside, victory singing in the form of a sly smile as he found not only a mug but a plate and set of silverware as well.

This confirmed your suspicion the giant liked to stash things up there knowing you needed to put significantly more effort into reaching it than you ever deemed worth the task.

“If it's the one I’m thinking of, you’re going to want to bring the rest of this,” he told you, gesturing toward you with the coffee pot before he helped himself to some.  “Or maybe some moral support.  If Dean isn’t already there he should be soon.”

You could do without his brother nipping at your heels, for once.  

Something about that must have shown in your features as Sam paused, eyeing you as he hesitantly said, “You know, I noticed you and Dean have been butting heads lately…”

In your opinion, it had been less about the two of you knocking heads and more about what Dean’s head had started becoming.  

“It’s hard for him, I think,” Sam continued.  “He looks at you and Gabriel and sees the worst that could happen to him and Cas.”

“Yeah, well…” You paused, unsure of what to say.  You didn’t want to start an argument this early, or worse, have Dean walk in on you complaining to his brother.  Again.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assured.  “I just wanted to put it out there.”

Maybe you didn’t have to say anything, but you wanted to.  The more it felt like Dean was drifting away from you, the more you realized Sam had always been your constant.  His dependability, his diplomacy, but mostly his unwavering support solidified your trust in him when you felt everyone else was trying to back you into Gabriel’s corner 

Though you supposed the angel could use a few more friends than you right now.

“Gabriel needs someone to see him,” you acknowledged.  “But thanks for still seeing me.”

The sudden heart to heart had uncertainty bleeding through the appreciative look you gave him.  You weren’t good with these things and often avoided them.  Sam wasn’t expecting it either, his eyes dropping to the floor a moment before flashing back up to yours.

“Your welcome,” he says, warmth and reassurance tugging his lips up into a smile.  “You know, if Dean turns out to be too much, my door’s always open.”

You knew.  He had never offered before now, not explicitly, but he was the type of friend you went to when you needed to bury a body.  A real one, not just when you needed to clean up after a hunt.  

“Why?  Something wrong with the lock?” You jested, slipping back to the safe and comfortable confines of your humor. 

He was all too happy to join you back in charted territory.  “Yeah.  Tends to act up around smartasses.”

A playfulness danced across his features, brightening his gaze that often contained his own piece of darkness that spilled over into the present.  It eased some of the lines in his face, making him seem a little more vibrant and lively.  It was a look he wore well and one you found contagious.

“So, it’s permanently broken?” You teased in a familiar and friendly way that encroached but didn’t touch the borders of flirtation.  For once, the curve of your lips felt natural, right, like a piece of you was slipping back into place for the first time since you woke up in that hospital.

Sam’s eyes shifted somewhere above your head, landing over your shoulder near the doorway.  The light in his eyes flickered out and you didn’t need to look behind you to know what he saw.

“You know what else is broken?” Dean’s voice carried in from the hallway, his tall frame brushing past yours as he made his way toward the coffee pot. “Your cosmic connection, something that I’m sure carries with it some pretty cosmic consequences.”

Your smile fell, lips pulling thin as the weight fell back into place, nearly dragging you down to the floor with the weariness that swept in along with it.  You were so tired of being reminded that you needed to fix this, like it was somehow your fault everything happened.  No one seemed to remember that the reason you were in this mess to begin with was because you had saved Gabriel from a fate that, according to Cas, was likely worse than what was happening now.

You channeled your inner Dean, leveling the best bitch face you could muster, which wasn't hard given your continued lack of caffeination.

“What?” He demanded.

“Dude, come on, it’s barely past seven,” Sam jumped in, trying to defuse the situation.

“She doesn't need you to speak for her,” Dean reminded snidely as he began to make his way through the cabinets in search of something clean.  

“Maybe not, but she probably needs you to shut up until she’s at least had her coffee.”

The sass that snuck into Sam’s tone was surprising.  Then again, he had barely touched his own cup as well and the look Dean shot back suggested none of you were functioning well at the moment.  

“Watch it,” the older Winchester warned, pointing a finger at his brother's face before whirling around.  He stalked across the room, opening the cupboard his brother had already pilfered.  As he groped his way through the shelves, Sam’s eyes fell to yours once again where they lingered for a moment before he inclined his head toward the door.    

Whoever said chivalry was dead had clearly not met the youngest Winchester.

You pulled up the hem of your shirt as you began to back towards the hall, displaying the gun tucked at your side.  You gestured toward it, then back to him, offering it with a curious raise of your brow.  His lips twitched with amusement and he held up a finger for you to hold on a moment as you neared the doorway.  

“Hey Dean… North Dakota.”

Three things happened at once.  Dean froze.  Your eyes went wider than quarters.  Sam, on the other hand, merely winked in your direction.  

“How dare you,” Dean declared indignantly, turning around and dropping his hands to his hips.    Sam leaned against the counter, casually taking a sip of his coffee, looking as if he couldn't be happier watching the world burn beneath the blaze he just lit.

“How.  Dare.  You,” Dean repeated, an emotional, if not dramatic, undercurrent to his words that had his voice coming out softer though far mare intense.

“We going to make eyes at each other all day or are we going to do this?”  Sam goaded.

You stifled a laugh, hastily turning your back on what was undoubtedly about to become a murder scene.  You didn’t know many people that would take a bullet for you, let alone prime a nuke just to detonate it on themselves.  

You owed Sam big time.  

You smiled, the relief from knowing Dean would have someone else to focus on adding an extra spring to your step.  Your brain became abuzz, combing over the ideas on how you could make it up to your friend.  Maybe later, after you’d made some headway with that book, you could make him those brownies he liked so much.

You never felt a single atom in Gabriel’s being as you passed through where he stood in the doorway, though you weren’t the only one who couldn’t see him this time.  

GMC tags:  @lacqueluster @archangel-with-a-shotgun  @ashiewesker @revwinchester  

Everything tags: @girl-next-door-writes @wayward-mirage  @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met   @the-moose-of-baskerville @summer-binging-spn  @blondecoffeecake  @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely

Gabe Squad: @theblackenedsky, @bloodstained-porcelain-doll, @pepperwoodatnight @samikitten @ludwigs-a-monster @a-vast-african-plain

The Long Road Home tags:  @nervousdonutdragon @revwinchester @thewholetruthlikeitornot @cobrakai--1972

[octannibal-blake]

for the post break-up au. with bellamy definitely bringing clarke the food: i know you can’t cook for shit so i’ve been bringing you dinner every night, just, y’know, to keep you alive

Thanks for the prompt! This was fun to write and honestly, I almost got carried away with it but alas, I had to make it manageable. I hope you like it, friend! 

want one? send me a prompt from this list and i’ll write you a fic.

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(ao3)

“Are ice cream sandwiches a food group?” Bellamy is frowning at her from the front door, eyeing the wrappers currently scattered across her coffee table.

She answers him with a glare while taking the last bite of the delicious treat. Okay, so it might be her third one today. And maybe it’s all she’s eaten over the last couple of days, but she deserves it. After all, she’s going through some shit and coping has never been her best skill.

He sighs and collapses onto the couch next to her. She tries not to look at him. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her like she might melt into a puddle of tears and ice cream at any moment. All of her friends have been looking at her like that, pity and uncertainty. She’s come to expect it, although she’s surprised to see it come from him. They hate each other, he should be happy to see her so miserable.

“What do you want, Bellamy?” she grumbles out, not even bothering to pause the current romantic comedy playing on her Netflix account. She’s been slowly cycling her way through the category and this one isn’t terrible. A little cheesy, but not unbearable.

“Just coming to check on you, Princess,” he throws his feet onto the table and leans back, making himself comfortable.  

“Come to check on me or come to gloat?” The second seems more plausible. Ever since they met four years ago, it’s been nothing but hostile arguments and biting remarks. She can’t stand him, but tolerates him mostly for Octavia’s sake. It’s her best friend and even though he’s a complete jackass, she knows how much Octavia loves him. But there’s really no other reason for him to be here other than to rub it in her face that her girlfriend broke up with her and moved out of the country. She can practically hear him now, wow, you’re so terrible not only did she leave you but she couldn’t stand being in the same country as you!

“I can be a jackass sometimes but I’m not heartless,” he defends and she swears she actually detects a hint of sincerity in his voice. Enough to make her turn and look at him and she notices his eyes don’t hold the typical malice they normally do. No, they’re actually…well, she doesn’t exactly know but she’s never seen it before. Not even during their more intimate moments.

She turns her attention back to the television. Even if he were being nice, it doesn’t make up for the years of constant harassment. From the moment they met it’s been nothing but endless, pointless arguments about everything from how to tie shoes to the deepest questions of the universe. It got so bad at one point, Octavia refused to go in public with both of them at the same time. Raven once told her it was built up sexual tension because they are both very attractive individuals who somehow get off by arguing with each other. Clarke vehemently denied it because clearly, he is just an insufferable douche and she, as he so eloquently called her once, is a spoiled brat.

Things have a natural way of biting her in the ass, though. Not two weeks after the conversation with Raven (which was about two years of mutual loathing at that point) she and Bellamy found themselves tangled up in each other as so predicted by her friend. She’d be lying if she said the sex wasn’t amazing. It definitely was, but even after a drunken night of amazing sex, they still couldn’t talk for more than five minutes before it turned into another argument. Hypothesis, null. They hooked up a couple of more times (she was in a dry spell and really had no desire to go home with strangers) and everything stayed pretty normal. Until it wasn’t.

She met Lexa at one of her mother’s gala’s. On the fast track to becoming the next great surgeon, she of course attended the gala to network and meet other great surgeons. It was all a little overwhelming for Clarke, but they met and hit it off. She had thought their relationship was great, they were in love and talking about moving in together. Then, two weeks ago, it all changed. Lexa came over and without any warning, broke things off. She got the opportunity to study abroad in England and had to take it. She didn’t want to put their relationship under the strain of long distance and just…ended it. It didn’t really register at first. She went to work and came home. She went out with her friends and shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Then she got her dream job, being a curator at the MFA, and she pulled out her phone to call her. Then she remembered and it’s been downhill since then.

Feeling the familiar sting behind her eyes, she stands up from the couch, “Want ice cream?”

Bellamy pulls his feet from the table, small flecks of dirt falling onto it. Normally, this would lead to a fight (and maybe that’s what he was hoping for) but right now, she just didn’t feel like it. She shuffles to the freezer and grabs the box of sandwiches. Only two left. Resigning herself to her own pity, she grabs them both and tosses the box onto the counter (she’ll get it later, okay).

“No,” Bellamy is beside her before she can even blink, yanking the small items from her hands and throwing them back into the freezer, “You have to eat a meal, Clarke.”

She crosses her arms and huffs (she’s five), “I’m a grown ass woman, I can eat whatever I want.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, “Why don’t you act like it!”

She feels the familiar flare of frustration and irritation in her chest at his condescending tone and bites back, “I can do whatever I want, so you can stop trying to fucking mother me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you would fucking take care of yourself!” they’re yelling again and it feels almost normal. The way things were before Lexa. Before the break up. It’s still all so new, though, and right now normal doesn’t feel right. Not yet, at least.

“Whatever.” She hates how defeated she sounds.

“Seriously?” he almost seems disappointed in her, like he expected a lot more fight.

She throws her hands in the air, the crack in her voice giving away the emotion she had been determined not to feel, “Why did you come here, Bellamy? To question my diet and try to pick a fight with me? Great, you did. Now, you can go.”

Fuck emotions. Fuck these stupid tears. She doesn’t cry, especially not in front of people. She wipes furiously at her eyes and puts as much distance between them as she can. Unfortunately, her apartment is small and walking to the other side of the kitchen doesn’t do much. He takes a few steps and he’s right back in front of her. Too close. Too personal.

“Look,” his voice is much gentler now and she sees his hand twitch like he wants to wipe the tears away for her but thinks better of it,  “I’m here because everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

That catches her off guard. Bellamy Blake is worried about her.

“Octavia said you haven’t been eating,” he continues and before she can argue, he cuts her off, “Those don’t count.”

“Ice cream definitely counts,” she argues half-heartedly, but even that sounds pathetic. So maybe it’s not the best diet but going to the grocery seems like an impossible feat and she’s always been a terrible cook.

He rolls his eyes at her, clearly unfazed by her less than stellar comeback, “I’m ordering Thai.”

“Good for you,” she growls but doesn’t protest. An hour later, she’s next to him on the couch devouring her curry puffs and watching history documentaries, her slight breakdown forgotten. She knows he wants to ask her about it, but somehow he knows better. He knows her pretty well, actually. Things don’t feel okay. But they don’t feel bad either.

And that’s how it starts.

*

Suddenly her worst enemy is a constant presence in her life. She chalks it up to his incessant need to parent everyone. He makes sure everyone makes it home from the bar, fixes peoples cars, appliances, and apparently, hearts. Oh, and he also feeds you if you’re too incompetent to cook (which she is). At first she thought it was just a fluke, that maybe he just did a favor for Octavia and would leave it alone after that. Yet, every night he shows up at her door with a bag of homemade meals in his hand for her. She feels like she’s in some parallel universe, one in which her and Bellamy are, dare she say, friends. They eat dinner together but more than that they actually have civilized conversations. Some nights they just turn on Netflix and watch history documentaries, mostly to repay him for keeping her satiated. Other nights they talk for hours about anything and everything, ranging from his sister to past memories to all their hopes and dreams.

“I start work next week,” she tells him one night after finishing her last bite of lasagna. Bellamy made it himself, so he claims (though, she swears it’s a Stoffers). She lays her tupperware on the coffee table and leans back with a satisfied sigh.

“You nervous?” he’s still working on his food, sucking a noodle obnoxiously through his lips. Disgusting.

“Kind of,” she pays his gross eating habits no mind, “But happy more than anything. These last few weeks have been, uh, unproductive to say the least.”

She hadn’t meant to lounge around her apartment during her time off. She had quit her old job early so she could prepare for the new one, thinking that maybe her and Lexa could take a short vacation. That, obviously, was a poor choice and instead of laying out on a beach somewhere, she laid out on her couch in the same pajamas.

He’s quiet for a moment, finishing the last of his food before moving to grab the dishes. He scoops her container up and adds them to the dishwasher. After a moment of quiet frustration at the piece of junk, it rumbles to life.

“It’ll be good for you,” he says rejoining her and adjusting his feet on the table, this time bare of any mud tracking shoes, “Being busy and stuff.”

IT’s true. The worst part of all of this has been being to stationary. Anytime something big happens in her life, her go to coping method is to throw herself into her work. When her dad died, it was school. When her and her mom had a falling out, it was Lexa. Now she’s stuck with nothing specific to keep her busy and because of that, this breakup has been a lot harder. She’s had to face her feelings and really, truly feel everything about it.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, falling deep into her thoughts. He seems to notice because he nudges her with his elbow and watches her with concern (there’s that damn concern again).

“I know you don’t like to talk about feelings and shit,” he describes her perfectly, “But if you ever do, I’m here.”

She feels a twinge of gratitude for him in that moment. Of all the people to be here for her, to reach out, it’s him. She never would have seen this coming, especially after their brief ‘enemies with benefits’ thing.

“Thanks, Bell.”

He doesn’t push it. They watch their documentary and he leaves. This time she gives him a thankful squeeze on the shoulder as he goes. He gives her a smile.

*

She takes him up on that offer hardly a week later. He’s standing in her kitchen, cooking something that smells amazing for dinner. She’s just finished her first week of work and had been feeling really good about things. She had breakfast with Raven this morning and they caught up on all things gossip and Raven’s new love interest. Though, Raven doesn’t believe in love so she refuses to acknowledge it.

“He’s hot and I’m hot,” she said nonchalantly, “We’re supposed to bang and that’s it.”

The weather was nice today, sunny and mild despite it being the end of July. Her mood is high, really and truly high, but of course something always has to ruin it.

“Oh fuck you,” she blurts out suddenly. She has her phone in her hand, casually scrolling through instagram and waiting for her food.

“Tried that once,” Bellamy answers without hesitation, thinking she had been talking to him.

She wished she were. Instead she’s staring at her phone, feeling a myriad of emotions overcome her. He seems to notice her lack of response and immediately walks over to the couch to check on her.

“Clarke?”

She hadn’t even realized that tears had begun to well in her eyes until one drops onto her chin.

“It’s not fair,” suddenly everything is too much and she tosses her phone onto the floor (it’s carpet, thankfully), “I’m the one who gets screwed over and she gets everything she ever wanted.”

He catches on then, realizing who triggered her emotional outburst. He regards her carefully, deciding maybe it’s best to stay silent. She fills it.

“I did everything she ever wanted me to. I sacrificed everything for her. My friends. My mom. My job. All of it. And when she wanted something she never even thought about my feelings. She just did it.”

She’s upset. She’s pissed. She’s annoyed. She’s…everything. She loved Lexa, truly, but looking at her now (posting about being in Europe and loving her life) it’s like everything was one sided. When Lexa wanted to hang out, Clarke would drop everything for her. She would ditch her friends. She would call into work. It all seems pretty bad, in retrospect, like Clarke was always just a temporary stop for her while Clarke had been head over heels.

“Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she continues, speaking her thoughts aloud, “That’s part of what attracted me to her, her fierce independence and how adventurous she is. I should have known it would never last. We wanted different things. I wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

“Hey,” he places a hand on her arm, begging her to look at him. When she does, she can tell he isn’t judging her or even pitying her, he’s just…supporting her, “Lexa has a lot of good qualities. But if she didn’t see how amazing you are, that’s her fault and not yours.”

She chuckles a bit at the sentiment. It’s hard to believe that Lexa would have any faults but she knows he’s right. Maybe they just weren’t meant for something great and that’s okay. She’ll be okay.

“I never thought I would be this girl,” she admits to him sadly, hating how vulnerable she’s been over the last few weeks. She’s supposed to be tough. Level headed. Not a tearful mess.

“You’re not invincible, Clarke. I know you like to pretend you don’t have feelings but it’s okay to have them.”

She sniffles for good measure and he laughs, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody you have actual emotions.”

SHe punches his arm playfully and he feigns hurt. Just like that she feels lighter somehow. She feels like she’s mending.

*

She makes it out to the bar exactly two months after the big break up. Everyone is there because of course Octavia wanted to make this a momentous occasion. Celebrating the return of Clarke or some shit. She feels lighter today, having settled into her new job and finding that she really has a knack for curating. Bellamy is at her place close to every day of the week, still cooking for her and hanging out. SHe gave him a key to her place not long after she started working. He’s on break from teaching for summer and mentioned having issues with his roommate. He spent a lot of time there anyway so she figured she might as well.

“It’s so I can have a hot dinner waiting on me when I get home,” she told him with batting eyes and a sickly sweet smile.

Life is going well and being here with all of them isn’t overwhelming like it might have been a month or two ago. She feels happy.

Bellamy is next to her and offers her a shot of whiskey and clinking his own with hers. She grins and takes it gratefully, loving the way it burns her throat as it goes down. She dances with Raven and Octavia, until the younger Blake is hauled away by her boyfriend for a quick make out session. Bellamy promptly makes obnoxious gagging noises at the sight.  

“She’s in love,” she smacks him on the arm, “Leave her alone!”

The night feels like they used to. Everyone talking and dancing and laughing with each other. Even Murphy showed up for her welcome back AND bought her a drink. That alone makes her want to tear up. At some point she ends up alone with Octavia, Lincoln having detached himself from her hip to grab drinks at the bar. They sit across from each other and finally Octavia decides to pounce.

“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Leave it to Octavia to never beat around the bush.

“What do  you mean?” Clarke knows exactly what she means. It’s not like it’s completely normal for Bellamy to a)  be nice to her and b) have a fucking key to her place. She can admit, it looks a little suspect.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she mocks, “Maybe how nice you all are being to each other. Last time we were all together I had to ban you two from being in the same bar!”

Clarke laughs at that and shrugs, “I just got tired of fighting, O.”

Octavia isn’t buying it. She crosses her arms and kinks one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows, “Sure.”

She sighs and glances over to the bar where Bellamy has just become engaged in one of his intense stories. He’s talking to Miller and Murphy, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“We understand each other more now,” she’s trying to be vague as possible. No one wants to admit that their former rival actually saved their life. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but her nutrition would be seriously lacking if it weren’t for him. And he had been extremely supportive in her break up, something most of her other friends can’t say. She can’t blame them for that. She didn’t reach out to anyone. Bellamy just happened to force his way in with food.

“Whatever the fuck that means,” Octavia sighs in defeat, realizing she might just have to torture the information from her brother herself, “I’m just glad we can all be here together without you all embarrassing us.”

The rest of the night is relatively calm and by the early morning, she definitely feels the weight of all the drinks people bought her. Their goal had been to get her drunk and they absolutely succeeded. Bellamy offers to get her home safely and she accepts without a second thought. As they say goodbye to everyone, she notices Octavia watching her with a knowing eye. She chooses to ignore it.

*

“My sister seems to think there’s something going on with us,” Bellamy says bluntly as they enter the apartment. She’s feeling pretty light headed. Her tolerance has severely gone to shit and she had more drinks than anticipated.

“I know,” she replies, kicking off her shoes and flopping onto the couch with a loud huff, “She cornered me at the pub.”

“What did you tell her?” he’s currently digging through her fridge, no doubt looking for food. He’s always been the kind of guy to get the munchies after he drinks.

“I just told her we came to an understanding.”

He hums in response and joins her on the couch, handing her a bottle of water and chugging from his own. He wipes his mouth and turns to her, “I bet she loved that.”

She laughs, remembering Octavia’s look of pure annoyance, “You know she can’t stand not knowing things.”

“That definitely explains why she was asking me twenty questions.”

“Oh no,” she giggles. Fucking giggles.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a fond smile, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I was keeping you alive.”

“Keeping me alive?” it doesn’t process at first.

“Face it, you’d be dead without my food,” he jokes and she can’t help but think of how true it is. SHe’d been on a diet of both not eating and eating junk. It definitely wasn’t healthy. He really did step in when she needed it most.

“I never did say thank you, did I?” she asks seriously and he shrugs.

“You don’t have to. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

And she is. Okay, that is. Spending time with him has made the healing process a lot easier than it would have been. Sure, he fed her because she is apparently incapable of doing that herself, but more than that he was her support system. He listened to her talk about nothing and handed her kleenexes while she cried.. All without judgement. He rubbed her feet on days her job had her running everywhere in an uncomfortable pair of flats. He never once made her feel like she was overreacting or pathetic. He…Shit.

“You’re a really good person,” she tells him finally, “I mean, like the best kind of person.”

He laughs again, deep and sincere. Her stomach flips at the sound and now she realizes she’s on a very dangerous path. But to be honest, she doesn’t care.

“We should go out to dinner sometime,” it’s a stupid thing to say. Is she asking him on a date? Is she even ready for that? She’s an idiot. She closes her eyes to think for a moment and hates that even the deepest part of her mind she realizes she actually means it. She would like to go out with him sometime. Maybe not anytime in the near future, but when she feels totally and completely ready, she’d like to try it. She’s seen the best parts of him and the worst and still really likes him. Surprise.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says gently and she realizes she’s starting to doze off. Before she can fully get her bearings, he scoops her up into his arms and walks her to her room. Normally she’d fight it, but she’s pretty damn tired and a little buzzed (also, it feels kind of nice having him carry her to bed). He lays her down gently and pulls the cover over her. It’s an intimate gesture but she’s okay with it.

“I meant it,” she says as he starts to move toward the door, “I’m not ready yet. But I will be and I’d really like to take you out to dinner.”

His answer is almost so quiet she can barely hear it, “I’m ready whenever you are. But you’re buying.”

“Deal,” she breathes and begins to drift off with a smile on her face. The last thing she remembers is the feel of his lips on her forehead.

It’s funny how a little food can mend a broken heart. Yeah, just the food.