#you know. up until he actually NEEDS to go light some fires. which he’s maybe a bit too quick to jump in on as soon as he can

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

DPxDC Prompt

Thinking back on it, Danny probably should have been more wary of being given the title ‘Ender Of Timelines’.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 4

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 4.9k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, public sex, blowjobs, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, mentions of morbid games lmao

You haven’t had a chance to talk to Beomgyu about what happened at the party, mostly because you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to ask him about Haeun because you don’t want to hear that they’re together now. And you don’t want to talk to him about Yeonjun and admit to him that you are not actually together when he clearly has someone else. 

As for Yeonjun, you start becoming closer and closer to him–you’re not actually dating but Beomgyu doesn’t need to know that, and the fact that he thinks you are and it’s pissing him off beyond belief is just the cherry on top. 

But due to all this messiness, things become awkward between you and Beomgyu. There is this unspoken tension that neither of you will acknowledge. Even just him coming home and stepping into the living room where you’re at feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. 

Live with your best friend, they said. It will be fun, they said.

You focus intensely on your phone, determined to ignore Beomgyu until he retreats into his room like the virginal creature he is. But to your dismay, he heads straight to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Beomgyu asks, rushing to your side and you look at his concerned face with confusion. “What is it, did Yeonjun hurt you?” 

“Huh?” You hum, completely lost. 

“Your face. You look like someone ran over it.” 

You glare at him, showing him your phone pointedly. “I’m just stuck at this game.” 

He rolls his eyes, shoulders relaxing. “Damn, I thought it was serious.”

No shit. It looked like he was ready to scratch Yeonjun’s face off at the mere idea that he hurt you. Which is kinda sweet, you guess. 

“It is serious. This game is kicking my ass.” You complain, brushing past it once again, choosing to focus on the escape room game you’re playing. “I feel like such an idiot. Why can’t I figure this stupid puzzle out?” 

“Let me see.” He sits beside you, plucking the phone out of your hands. 

“Hey!” You protest loudly but he shushes you. “Let the genius do his thing.” 

You bark out a laugh at that. “Now that’s hilarious.” You mock him, but let him try anyway. If only because he looks the prettiest when he’s concentrating on something. 

What? It’s not like you’re going to get over your undying love for him in a day. 

Beomgyu flounders around just as you had expected, clicking all over the screen to try to unlock some hidden clue to no avail. Soon enough, his frustration reaches your level/ 

“What the fuck do you want me to give you, you stupid man?” Beomgyu yells in frustration, repeatedly tapping on the man who won’t give him the phone number he needs. 

“Is the genius struggling?” You mock and though he doesn’t mean it, he gives you the most heart-breakingly adorable pout you’ve ever seen. It takes the combined strength of every single cell in your body to not swoon on the spot. 

“Shut up. It’s a stupid game.” He mumbles and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Or maybe dialing random numbers on the phone isn’t the best strategy when there are like an infinite number combinations possible?”

“Like I said, stupid game.” He asserts, “It’s impossible to solve.” 

“No, you’re just an idiot. Give me back my phone.” You try to take it from him but he refuses to hand it over, insisting, “I’m going to solve it.”

“Beomgyu, come on!”

“I’ll figure it out!”

“No, you won’t, dumbass!”

“Okay, now you’re really not getting it back.” He says and you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He sighs and tugs on your arm, pulling you onto his lap, “Come here, let’s work it out together.” 

How can you when his breath hitting the back of your neck lights your nerves on fire and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours fries up your brain? 

Still you valiantly push through, coming up with ideas together to solve the puzzle, equally stupid ideas that don’t work, but you don't even care about the game anymore, just enjoying being in his arms, leaning back against his shoulders, surrounded by his warmth and his scent. 

“Okay, that’s it. I’m cheating.” He announces after a long, frustrating stretch of inadequate gameplay, and you grunt. “Yes, please.”

You watch as he looks up the answer to the puzzle you’re stuck on online, practically melting in his embrace. 

“That’s the answer? What the fuck? It doesn’t even make sense.” He grumbles once he finds the answer, the vibrations of his deep voice like a cat purring against you. 

“I know. This is so annoying.” You mutter, no heat behind your words, as he enters the code given from the walkthrough. “Or maybe we’re both idiots.” 

“Nah, nah, it’s the game that’s stupid. We’re so smart.” He denies dramatically and you giggle.  “The smartest.” 

Once he dials the number given to him by the man, a distorted voice answers, giving you a cryptic message before hanging up. 

"Look into the eyes of the bird. What does that mean?" Beomgyu wonders, and a sudden realization hits you. "Oh, oh, there was an owl statue back there!"

"You're right. Good thinking, babe.” He compliments mindlessly, oblivious to the fact that he so casually sent your heart into overdrive. Yes, he has called you that before, but never in a non-sexual context. This whole thing feels so domestic, so relationship-y, and it’s seriously messing with your tattered heart. 

Beomgyu goes back to the owl and taps on its eyes. They turn white and the statue shakes, causing your anticipation to rise… but then nothing happens. 

"Wait, what?" Beomgyu wonders dumbly, and you frown. "Let's look around again. Maybe that did something."

"Okay." His head moves ever so slightly to the side and he takes a deep breath through his nose, frustrated, but if you didn’t know any better, and if your wishful thinking had its way, you would think he was taking your scent in. 

"Oh, there it is. It opened this thing." He says excitedly, jolting you out of your fantasies. "That’s the code!"

"Come on then, open the suitcase!" You gush, joining the excitement. You just love to see him so giddy.  

"Right." 

You watch his eyebrows furrow as he looks around for the suitcase, and you do your best not to bend forward and kiss his pretty nose. 

Damn it. Get yourself together. 

"It's a camera. Let's try to take pics with it." You tell him once he opens the suitcase. 

"I have a bad feeling about this." Beomgyu says, trying to take a picture of the mother character but it doesn’t work.

"Try the child." You grab onto his arms, feeling nervous yourself. 

You click on the child but instead of taking a picture of her, she takes a picture of you. Then the scene turns dark and she starts screaming.  

"What? What is happening? Pull back." You tell him urgently. 

He moves around frantically, stopping at the scene with the mother and now there is a monster behind her. The monster speaks in the same distorted voice, saying it’s taking the mother and leaving the child to you. 

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu asks, creepy music playing in the background. “Bring her back!”

“Oh, don’t feel bad for the mother. She fed her brother urine and dug up the corpses of her family members for a sacrifice.” 

“She did what?” He gives you a look of disgust.

“But even that’s not surprising. I mean she’s the product of the semen her father ejaculated into a jar and combined with the egg he extracted from her dead mother who he killed because he was obsessed with her.” 

“Why do you play these games?” Beomgyu groans, horrified. 

You shrug. “I am fascinated by the morbid. And if I recall correctly, I didn’t ask you to play.”

“I know. I just missed hanging out with you. Even if it’s playing creepy games or just you ranting about your day.” He says sheepishly, turning his head to face you, and you suddenly realize fully how close you actually are. You gulp. “Yeah. I missed hanging out with you too. I guess we’ve both been… busy.” 

“Yeah with the gigs and the parties and all, I guess I’m not around much.” He trails off, running his fingers up and down your forearm, making you shiver. Then looks up at you with a grin. “Hey, remember back when we were so lame no one ever invited us to parties so we would just spend our weekends at home watching movies and playing video games?”

“Remember? That was only like a couple of months ago. You may have forgotten your roots Mr. I’m-in-an-up-and-coming-band but it will always be the loser lifestyle for me.” 

You're joking but you do miss it. You miss when he was your Beomgyu and not Haeun's. Even if it was just in your head. You miss your best friend and not the asshole he became. 

“Yeah, right. You’re such a loser, you’re dating the lead singer of that band.” He mutters challengingly, staring you down. You’re so close, you only have to lean in a tiny bit to meet his lips, and by the way he’s looking at you, you think he wants it too. 

But then his phone rings and the moment is over. You snap back to your senses and quickly get off him, glancing at his phone. It’s Haeun. Of course. You feel so stupid. You’re not his girlfriend. You’re just his dumb friend who thinks she has a chance with him when he never expressed any interest in her and has in fact been in love with another woman–a woman who is now his girlfriend. 

“Baby–”

“Your girlfriend is calling. Answer her.” You tell him harshly, and he flinches, taken aback. He is silent for a second, searching your face for something, before he sighs. “Fine.” 

“Hey, baby.” He answers, looking at you as he uses the exact same nickname he just called you. You roll your eyes, starting the next phase in the game, trying not to let it show how hurt you are as you pointedly ignore him. “I’m good. Heading for bed.”

He pauses for a second during which you pretend you’re actually playing the game as he listens to what she’s telling him, before he says. “Baby, I can’t come over now. I’m tired… yeah, i’m just not feeling that well–No, no, don’t come over. I’m okay. It’s–” 

He shuts up abruptly and you look up to him to see him staring at his phone in frustration. 

“She’s coming over?” You raise an eyebrow and he sighs. “Wants to make sure I’m not sick.” 

“You’re so lucky.” You gush sarcastically. 

“Don’t start.” He warns.

“No. No. I’m really happy for you. Your love with Haeun is so special. So special in fact that you probably only share it with like five other men.” 

He laughs at that. “Oh yeah, it’s not like you’re dating boyfriend of the year either.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You frown, hands on your hips. 

“It means that you’re not the first groupie he’s had. You’re probably not even the only one. Hey, maybe if you stick around long enough, he’ll even introduce you to the others.”

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” You hiss, grabbing your things and heading to your room.

You know you shouldn’t have goaded him. Things were going well. You were finally spending some quality time together, just the two of you, just like you did before. But then you had to open your mouth and let your ugly jealousy show. 

Doesn’t matter. It would’ve been ruined anyway when she arrived.  You’re not really in the mood for a live sex show. 

______________________________

But if you thought hiding in your room would shield you from it, then you were dead wrong. You can hear them even from under your pillows. You would put on some noise-canceling headphones but Beomgyu owns those and you really don’t want to go to his room and give your worst nightmares form.   

All you have to distract you now is your phone and your frantic messages to Yeonjun. 

You: Junnie. I’m seriously going to kill myself. 

Yeonjun: Are they that loud? 

You: Her mostly. It’s like she’s intentionally trying to make me vomit. 

Yeonjun: Maybe she is. Maybe she feels threatened by you. 

You: Threatened? That’s crazy. 

Yeonjun: You’re right. It’s not like you hooked up with him before or anything… oh wait. 

You: You’ll be my 13th reason. 

Yeonjun: I’m sorry. If you’re so upset, why don’t we go out? 

You: It’s 2 am…everything is closed.

Yeonjun: So? The streets are open. We can walk around. It’ll be fun.

You: I don’t know. Isn’t that kinda dangerous? 

Yeonjun: That’s the fun of it. But if you’d rather stay home and listen to her fuck the guy you love then be my guest. 

You: I’m getting dressed. 

____________________________

“Do you take these late night walks often?” You ask Yeonjun, hugging your jacket close to your body to fight against the chill in the air. 

“Sometimes. When I have time to.” He shrugs, his breath making visible vapor trails in the air. “There is just something so magical about that period of time between midnight and dawn, when everyone else is asleep and it’s just you and the stars. Feels almost magical, you know?” 

“Yeah. I know. It’s like you could say anything and everything and it would be safe from the light of the morning.” 

You know all this too well because you used to spend that precious time with Beomgyu, cuddled together into the late hours of the night watching movies or talking about nothing even when you knew you had an important lecture in the morning or band practice to go to. 

During those moments you thought that Beomgyu could almost feel how you feel. No two people could share what you shared without being in love, right? 

But it was just the spell of the night talking. There was nothing there. Not from him at least. 

You stop for a second, taking a look at the slumbering city around, looking into windows and wondering about the occupants inside–Are they happy? Are they with their loved one? Do they feel the magic around them? 

Does Beomgyu feel the same way you felt about him with her?

You feel arms wrap around you from behind, and Yeonjun rests his head on your shoulder. “It’s so peaceful, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” You relax against him, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to stay in the moment, willing the night to work its magic. 

“How cute.” You hear a gruff voice cut through your attempted peace, and your eyes snap open to see a man holding a knife out at you and Yeonjun. 

“Whoa, whoa.” Yeonjun pulls you behind him. “No need to get violent.” 

“There will be no need if you quietly pass over your phones and wallets.” The man gestures with his knife. 

“I can give you the wallets but I have very important files on my phone.” Yeonjun attempts to reason with him but the man gets closer with the knife. “Hand everything over.” 

“Okay. Okay.” Yeonjun tries to calm him down, while you do everything in your power not to shit yourself. You’ve never been held up at knifepoint before! This is what you get for listening to Yeonjun. The man has orange hair! No good ideas could come from him.

“That’s the fun of it.” You mutter under your breath as you get your stuff out, repeating Yeonjun’s earlier words. “Yeah, this is so fun.” 

You shoot Yeonjun a glare before reaching out to hand over your precious belongings, but as the man goes to take them, Yeonjun suddenly smacks his arm, causing the knife to drop out of his hand and onto the floor.

Both men lunge towards it, attempting to recover the knife, and for the few seconds they fight, your heart stops probably a couple of times. If the mugger gets the knife, you’re sure he’ll send you and Yeonjun off with a few new holes in your bodies. 

Thankfully though, Yeonjun manages to swipe the knife in the end, and he holds it out threateningly. Well, as threatening as you can be with your arm shaking. 

“Aha!” He screams at the mugger, who in turn raises his hands up in surrender. “Get away from us.” 

“That’s my knife.” The man says dumbly. 

“It’s mine now. That’s how it works, isn’t it?” Yeonjun counters, sounding a little crazed. “Now get the fuck away before I return it to you somewhere you wouldn’t like.” 

“You wouldn’t.” The man doubts Yeonjun. 

“Yeah? I was crazy enough to wrestle it from you. You don’t know what I would do.” 

“Fine. This isn’t worth it.” The man turns and runs away. 

You and Yeonjun stay frozen for a good few minutes.

“Holy shit.” He breaks the silence, “I can’t believe I did that!”

“I know! I almost passed out. You’re fucking crazy.” You smack his shoulder, “You could’ve gotten us killed!”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking. It all just happened so quickly.” He breathes in shock, then looks around. “We should probably clear out of here in case he comes back.” 

“Right.” 

You quickly walk away, hurried steps accompanied by the occasional disbelieving exclamation until you deem you’re far enough away. Finally, you stop, looking around to make sure the coast is clear and to gather your bearings. 

You don’t know what comes over you, maybe it’s the stress of nearly dying, but you suddenly burst out laughing. “Fuck, I still can’t believe you did that! We could have died.” 

“But we didn’t.” He tries to argue, grinning madly, “And now we got this cool trophy.” He brandishes the mugger's knife, happy with his conquest before a frown takes over his face. “Do you think he stabbed anyone with this before?” 

“Probably.” 

He lets go of the knife and it falls to the ground with a clang. “Ew.” 

You both burst out laughing again, letting the high emotions runs themselves dry. But as your crazed laughs die down, Yeonjun pulls you close and kisses you, expressing that passion in a different way. 

"Junnie…"

"Did the near death experience turn you on too or is it just me." He jokes and you blush. "Maybe." 

You feel his hands fiddling with the button on your pants, but you grab them to stop him. "No, let me do it this time."

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side. You know he knows what you mean but that he just wants to hear it from you. But instead of answering his question with your words, you get on your knees in front of him instead.

He cups your cheek gently. "You don't have to do this, doll."

"I want to." You undo his pants, taking his cock out and giving it a kiss. "Teach me?"

“That is so fucking sexy.” He hisses, gathering your hair in his hand. “Start slow. Don't overwhelm yourself. Just get it wet first."

“Okay.” You lick his cock, gathering your spit as you go and using your hand to spread it over his entire length. Bit by bit, his cock becomes more hard and slippery, letting you easily slide your hand over it, your tongue licking him everywhere from his shaft to the small opening on his head. 

“Okay, that’s enough teasing.You can start taking some of it in your mouth now.”  

“But I like teasing you. It’s payback, baby.” You grin, refusing to pull back, and starting to suck gently on his balls instead. You don’t know where all this confidence was coming from. You’ve never done this before. In fact, before Beomgyu, you didn’t have any sexual experience at all to speak of. 

But Yeonjun is not Beomgyu, and he doesn’t take your brattiness. He tugs on your hair pulling your head back until you’re completely off his cock, then he grabs your face with his other hand and pushes his thumb into your mouth, opening it. “Don’t make me punish you, doll. I want your first time to be nice so be good now.” 

He pushes you face towards his cock and this time you open up, obediently taking him in. “That’s it… no, no go slow.” He cautions when you take in more than you could, gagging a little bit. “I’m not going to fuck your throat. Not tonight, at least.”  

You moan around his length, squeezing your thighs together in need. 

“Aw, doll. He hasn’t been taking care of you, has he?” He purrs and you pull back, shaking your head. “Didn’t let him.” 

“Good.” He breathes, pushing your head back on his cock, encouraging you to take more and more of him, but being careful to not push you too far, always pulling you back when you start gagging. 

To be honest, you’re not doing much. You’re just letting him fuck your mouth, going along with the pace he sets. But he won’t let you slack. 

“Suck on it, baby.” He purrs, hand getting tighter in your hair, and you pucker your lips, sucking his cock every time you pull back. “Ah, that’s it. You’re doing so well.” 

You look up at him, seeing how he’s starting to struggle a little bit, the pleasure getting to him so you double your efforts, bobbing your head as far as you can go and sucking harshly as you go up. 

As you do that, you inadvertently pull off him with a pop, but before you can put your mouth on him again, he holds you back. “Spit on it. Get it all wet and sloppy.” 

You bite your lip, doing everything to not put your hand between your legs right now. You gather some spit in your mouth, grabbing his red, hard cock in your hand before spitting on it, immediately using your hand to spread the saliva over his length. 

“Use both hands. Twist them as you go up. Makes it feel like you’re milking my cock.” He groans, throwing his head back, and you stare at him, amazed. You never thought you’d actually have a guy feeling like this before. 

I mean, of course, if it was Beomgyu, he would’ve gathered a crowd around you because of his moans by now, but that’s Beomgyu. He’s a virgin and he thinks everything you do is sexy. But Yeonjun has had a lot of experience. So much so that he probably had more than a couple dozen girls blow him off before. 

Oh. You really shouldn’t have thought about that. Now you’re overthinking it, wondering if he actually likes it or if it’s just alright.  I mean, with Beomgyu he’d be babbling all about how good you’re making him feel and begging you not to stop and–

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Oh, I’m fine.” You squeak, quickly going back to doing that twisting motion he told you about and attaching your mouth to the tip of his cock, sucking on it as if you wanted to drain him. 

“Ah–it’s just–you were kind of–holy shit, that’s good…” He trails off, losing track of his thoughts. “Squeeze your hands as you do that. You’re not gonna hurt me.” 

You hold onto him tighter, letting your tongue prod at his slit as you suck him off and jerk him with your hands, determined to keep his mind off your little slip. 

“Okay, okay, I’m close. Gonna cum, doll, so unless you want it in your mouth then get off.” He tries to pull you away by your hair but you refuse, sucking on him harshly until you feel a warm fluid filling your mouth. “Oh, shit.”

You whine around his cock as your mouth fills up with his cum. You only pull back when he has no more to give, keeping his seed in your mouth for a second before hesitantly swallowing it down.

“Fuck, swallowing on your first time? What a dirty girl.” He purrs, gently smoothing your hair down from the mess he made of it.

He’s very gentle. He really took it slow with you. You should be happy that your first time was so positive, right?

But as you look up at him catching his breath, the strong taste of him on your tongue brings up an ugly feeling of regret. Oh god, if Beomgyu finds out about this, he’ll be so pissed. 

Why are you even doing this? Just to piss him off? Do you actually like Yeonjun? Do you think you can love him the way you love Beomgyu? And does he like you? I mean, he did tell you that he does, but what does that mean? Given his history and all, how many other girls does he like? How many other girls is he doing this with? 

Suddenly you feel dirty, and the pavement burn isn’t helping you feel less like a slut. 

“You okay?” Yeonjun asks again and you shake your head. 

 “Yeah! It just… tastes weird.” You deflect, and Yeonjun laughs, putting his cock back in his pants and helping you up. “I warned you.” 

“I was curious.” You shrug, throat closing up. “But now I really need water.” 

“I’ll get you some water. But first–” He pushes you against a wall, “Let me repay the favor.” 

He tries to lean down to kiss you, but you put a hand up to stop him. “That’s okay. Technically this was me repaying the favor.” 

“Well then owe me one more.” He suggests, trying again but you turn your head to the side. At that, he finally steps back, sighing. “What’s going on?”

"Are you… are you messing around with other women?" You ask uncertainly. Beomgyu really messed with your head. 

"Did you want us to be exclusive?" He asks, and you step away from the wall. "Oh."

Right. Of course. He’s the lead singer of the band. Of course he’ll have a dozen other women after him.  

"I just figured with you and Beomgyu–"

You’re stupid to think he’ll sit around and wait for you. "No, I get it." 

"I swear I am not as much of a manwhore as you probably now think I am." He insists, “It’s just… we’re not dating, right?”

“Right.” You confirm. 

“But if you want to. We can try.” 

You give him a smile with some effort. “We’ll see.” You look up into the sky. "The sun is coming up. Let's go home."

______________________________

By the time you reach home, all the stars have disappeared, drowned out by the oppressive sunlight, and you hope to god Beomgyu is fast asleep. 

"Want me to come inside?" Yeonjun suggests but you shake your head. “No. I’ll just go to sleep. You should too.” 

“Right.” He sighs and moves to leave but then stops abruptly in his tracks. "You didn't say you wanted–"

"Just let me think, Yeonjun." You interrupt, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek when he still looks unsure. “Good night.” 

You don’t let him say more, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you quietly. You look around to make sure the coast is clear before treading lightly to your room. 

"Welcome home.” Beomgyu’s voice stops you in your tracks, and you wince as you turn towards him, seeing him standing in the door of the kitchen holding some coffee. “I suppose you were with Yeonjun again."

“It's not what you think." You don’t know why you’re lying. You don’t know why you even feel guilty about this. Haeun must be sleeping in his bed right this moment. 

"So you didn't go out and hook up with him?" He asks and you stay quiet, making him scoff. “Of course.” 

You let out a heavy breath. "Beomgyu, I can't deal with this right now. I’m tired.”

“Do you like him?” He ignores what you said, tone serious, and you have to stop and think about it for a while.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” You say at last, feeling lost. You don’t mean to goad him. You just don’t understand his behavior and it’s time he made some sense of it. 

“I just don’t want you to fuck up my band.” He says simply and you stare at him, even more lost. “What?” 

“If you date him and then you break up, it’ll make everything awkward between me and him. This sort of thing has broken up bands before and I just didn’t want that to happen. I don’t want to lose what could be my future because you wanted some dick.” 

You let out an incredulous laugh, tears stinging your eyes. Is that all he cares about? So it’s not about Yeonjun or even about you. It’s because he’s worried about his precious band.  

“Well, that’s not up to you. Is it?” You ask bitterly, but that just riles him up more and he gets all up in your face. “Like hell, it is. This is my future.” 

“Well, this is my future too. Yeonjun could be the one for me.”

He staggers back. “What?” He breathes, stunned. 

“I don’t know!” You exclaim, feeling completely overwhelmed by everything that has happened today and just needing to retreat back to your room and curl up into a ball until you’re able to push the bad feelings away. 

“I need to rest.” You turn around, running to your room and leaving a shell-shocked Beomgyu rooted to the floor. 

______________________

A/N: feedback keeps me going so drop a message about what you think of the new chapter to motivate me to get the next chapter out faster 😂

and once again

Taglist: @tinkw1nks @lol6sposts @zuzuhasablog @beomsl @seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr

[brayneworms]

prompt: l lawliet + food play + pink

wc. 2.8k. gn!reader, foodplay, virgin!l, handjobs, sliiiight come eating, reader is a wet cat in a cardboard box kinda, safe sane and consensual, no real power dynamics.

L contextualises things in the way he sees the world.

Strings of numbers, statistics, behavioural patterns that he's memorised to a 'T' until he can tell guilt from the aversion of an eye or fury from the remnants of nails pressed into the palm of someone's hand. It's why maybe something like sex or desire is a struggle for him. It's not that he doesn't understand it, it's more like he doesn't see the—the need for it, or whatever. You chalk it up to him being extremely busy and also probably totally asexual and don't think about it.

(Don't think about it much.)

It sort of surprises you that it's you he corners with his questions about. Maybe he's more embarrassed than he lets on—as it is, he looks cool as a cucumber save for the faintest shade of pink across his cheekbones. There's no way he would escape a conversation about it from anyone on the squad without a degree of ragging. Misa would squeal like a pig if L dared to broach the topic with her, you're sure. Matsuda would blush bright red and trip over all his words, and Aizawa would probably stare at him like he'd set his firstborn on fire.

And Light is Light. He probably knows little more than L, for all the airs he puts on.

So it's you he comes to. When it first starts, you think it has something to do with a case or lead he's hunting. Tell me, have you had sex before?

Perched like a frog, licking whipped cream off his finger. You don't know if he's doing to be provocative or not; don't know which is worse, that he's aware of what he's doing or not.

"This isn't exactly proper workplace conversation L."

A flicker of a smile. Cheeky, omniscient. "Feel free to report me to HR, in that case."

You do answer—honestly and concisely, if not with a shade of awkwardness. He's essentially your boss. But L seems so far removed from the worlds of sexuality and desire that it seems harmless, occupational, and eventually it stops feeling embarrassing. Out of nowhere—what is the purpose of restrains in an intimate context? Why do you think some people like to feel as though they have no control in the bedroom? Would you say that visual pornography has given watchers unrealistic expectations of actual intercourse?

One night, the two of you alone in front of a big glowing screen, turning to him and asking. "Why do you ask me this stuff, anyway? Is it for a case?"

"No," he says neutrally. A quick glance from his dark eyes you could almost describe as coy. "I'm just... curious."

"Curious," you echo, deadpan. "You?"

"Does that surprise you?" he murmurs. You almost feel that your honest answer—yes—would be insulting now, so instead you just shrug and mumble something incoherent under your breath. "You're not completely wrong. I thought having a better understanding of things like sex and power dynamics would be beneficial in the long run. Most people have a greater knowledge of it than me, which—puts me at a disadvantage." He says these last words with an air of revulsion, as though the very concept of knowing less than someone sours in his mouth, and you chuckle at his childishness.

"That makes sense." You pause. Wonder if you're reading this all wrong, then barrel ahead anyway. "Wouldn't actually experiencing it for yourself lend a better understanding than anything else, though?"

L's eyebrow raises. His smile has vanished, leaving him bug-eyed and unreadable. "What are you suggesting?"

He's not stupid, and you're not subtle. He knows exactly what you were suggesting. The fact that he's trying to get you to go into more detail rather than firing you on the spot is probably a good sign, and further than you expected to get. You squirm in your seat.

"You know. It's like being told about how something feels rather than knowing," you say awkwardly. "I'm just—can I ask—"

"It only seems fair," L says slowly. "After I've been badgering you with my own questions for so long." His chair spins; he rests his wrists on his rucked-up knees, fingers steepled in front of him. "Please."

Hot-faced, you spin your chair aimlessly. "Okay, well, uh—have you? I mean, before?"

L hesitates before he shakes his head, an almost imperceptible twitch that has his dark hair floating. You swallow the sudden large dry lump in your throat.

"Okay. So. Probably somewhere to start," you mumble.

L seems to consider this. "Would you be willing?"

You don't have the right to be surprised, with all the dancing around the subject, but you are, still. You choke on your spit and fly around to look at him, which is a mistake. His gaze is so dark and intense, and you think he can see right through you before you even open your mouth to answer.

"I'm not—" you stammer, with no idea what you're going to say. "I mean—"

"I had assumed you would be," L goes on calmly, but you catch the slight flicker of his eyes, a ghost of uncertainty that makes your chest squeeze. "If I have read your responses incorrectly, though, feel free to forget I asked. I can guarantee no awkwardness tomorrow."

"It's not that," you blurt. L blinks at you, go on. "It's just... do you have any idea what you're, you know. Into? Where to start?"

L's eyes flicker, the barest furrow knitted between his brows. You can tell he hasn't thought too hard about it. "What would you suggest?" he asks, curling his long fingers over his knees.

You swallow. "Well... anything you like the idea of, I guess. Something familiar, to ease you into it."

L's eyes roll over to his desk, where a perfectly glistening slice of strawberry cake waits for him. Pink sponge and halved red berries, topped with pale pink cream. "Familiar," he echoes. "I may have a suggestion."

-

So you feed L a strawberry just to get started.

Hold it up. It's distinctly awkward; L just stares at it for a moment, the berry dusted with frosting that glistens between your fingers. You tell him, "If you're not comfortable with this, sex is probably going to be—"

He leans forward and plucks the fruit from between your fingers; you feel the barest ghosting of teeth, the sweep of his tongue sharp and curious against the pads of your fingers before he leans back again. You watch the motions of his jaw and throat as he chews and swallows. Pins you with his headlamp stare, wide and dark.

You deconstruct the strawberry cake carefully, removing the berries and setting them to the side. Cast a look over at him. "Take off your shirt?"

L twists the hem of this shirt for a few moments before removing it. It feels so strange to see him devoid of clothing, like a knight removing their armour. Pale ribs, pinched waist. He's not whipcord-thin like you had imagined—there's lean muscle packed under the skin, his stomach flat and somewhat soft. It flexes almost nervously when you look at it. He reclines back on his bed without being told, bracing his weight onto his elbows, legs dangling off the side.

"You sure about all this?" you ask, glancing from the smooth planes of his white skin—shit—to the plate of crumbling pink dessert. "Didn't think you'd be into, you know. All the mess."

"I have a shower," L says reflexively.

You take that as permission to approach with the plate. You place the strawberry halves in a red dotted line, starting at his clavicle, watching him shiver and flex at the cold touch. Down—one at the bottom of his ribs, one above his bellybutton, one at his naval just above the low sling of his jeans. He's started to flush, prettily pink down his chest. It makes you slightly dizzy.

"Okay. So. Okay." You try not to feel so nervous, but it's more like you feel out of place, or time, or space. It feels surreal, basically. Standing between L's legs with your fingers stained pink from fruit and frosting. Him looking up at you like that, all big dark round eyes and slightly parted lips. Damn it. You take a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, so, I'll start now if you're okay. And just say if you don't want—if you want to stop, or if you don't like anything, just say, okay?"

"I understand the basic premises of consent, if that's what you're trying to affirm." The words are all L, but there's an element of breathlessness to them.

"Just making sure we're clear," you mutter. You lean forward and smooth a palm over his collarbones. They're sharp, they jut up to meet your hand like cut diamond, and you hear and see his breath hitch, which is slightly intoxicating. His skin is warmer and softer than you thought it would be. You run your hands over his shoulders and neck, which he squirms away from with a wrinkled nose.

"No neck?" you ask.

He shakes his head. So no neck.

Once you're done exploring this part of his body, you lean forward, close your lips around the strawberry and bite the end of it, sinking your teeth into the flesh. Pink juice runs down your chin; L's eyes follow it, transfixed, as you tilt your head forward and push your mouthful against his lips. They part unquestioningly, and you push the strawberry into his mouth with your tongue. Your lips brush together, tantalising and sweet with sugar. A mimic of a kiss, a palimpsest of intimacy. You don't want to overwhelm him, anyway.

This goes on; your hands over his chest next, the soft pectorals. An experimental brush of your thumb over his left nipple that makes his whole body shudder. He's so sensitive, reacting to every prod and touch and tweak with a jerk and a shiver. Gooseflesh blooms up his skin, pebbling his nipples, and when you tweak the other one gently he lets out a choked sound.

Finding the strawberry nestled under his ribs. Taking it between your teeth and passing it to him. His face gets pinker with each one. Stomach, concave, flexing with every hard breath. A ticklish spot over his belly button. Strawberry, bite, pass. The flex of his jaw as he chews.

Fingers over his waist, indenting the skin as much as you dare. You try not to think of how easily he would bruise. Brushing your touch over his lower abdomen makes his breath catch again. You find the strawberry, hold it between your lips. L cranes his neck, searching this time—he thinks he knows the game, has memorised the steps, found the pattern, the sequence. He doesn't know that the best sex is the unpredictable kind. This time, you press your lips against him and when your tongue pushes the strawberry into his mouth it stays there. His lips part, slack against yours, either in shock or inexperience. You allow yourself the briefest twirl of your tongue against his before pulling back with a wet pop.

L stares at you as you retreat. The strawberries leave pale pink residue on his skin. Pulling back fully reveals the hardness between his legs, pushing up against the dark denim of his jeans. He grunts when your eyes land on it, either out of embarrassment or frustration. You swallow and its like sandpaper.

"Still want me to...?"

"I have not changed my mind," he replies, slightly hoarsely and a beat slower than usual. You shrug, smooth your hands over the tent at his crotch, and he whines. It's the most searing noise you've pulled from him yet, and all from some halfhearted palming over the jeans. It sends a thrill zipping through you, hot and addicting. His arms shake with the weight of holding himself up, neck craning to follow as you sink to your knees between his legs.

You unzip him, pop the button, and he groans slightly at the freedom from the constraints of his clothes. He's fully hard, straining against his dark underwear. You experiment, rubbing at the tip, feeling for the wet spot, and he keens and thrashes, losing his stability and crashing to the mattress. He makes a frustrated noise just after, as though cursing himself for his own lack of control.

"That—" he swallows hard, breathes shakily. "That feels..."

Your hand hovers. "Am I stopping?"

"No, I don't..." He scrambles. L scrambles over his words. "Please, continue."

You stroke him over his underwear for a few concentrated minutes, mostly enjoying the way he twitches and huffs and occasionally makes soft, whiny noises, the way he starts to rut his hips against your hand. No technique, no rhythm, just some sort of baseless desire that you find incredibly hot. There's almost a frustration to it that makes you want to laugh—of course there would be nothing more agonising to someone like L than seeing what he wanted so close to him but being unable to accomplish it himself.

When he starts gritting his teeth, you pull his boxers down to his thighs and he makes a choking, embarrassed sound. When you wrap your fingers around his cock for the first time, finding it velvety-soft and leaking, his eyes roll back and his hips arch into the loose wet tunnel of your hand. "Oh," is all he says. Small and soft like he's surprised. His neck twists and his mouth presses into the starched white sheets. "Oh," he says again as your fist moves slowly, stroking with intent, up and down. He's not overly big, fits nicely in your hand, makes swiping over the head where the pre beads with your thumb nice and convenient. And you love the way he shudders and thrashes when you do it.

"How does that feel?" Your voice is lower than you remember it being. L cracks a bleary eye open; his face is flushed bright pink now, a flush that bleeds all the way down his chest, blending in with the strawberry stains.

"It feels," he starts, before his brow pinches. "I—I am not sure how to—how to describe..."

"It's okay," you tell him. His thighs shake, flexing against the edge of the mattress. When he tips his head back the cords in his pretty throat bulge, so biteable. "You can come whenever."

"I wasn't—oh," he gasps, squirming. "I wasn't aware I n-needed your—permission, oh."

"Yeah, well," you say intelligently, a little struck dumb by the sight before you. "Just making sure we're on the same page."

"A-and what page is that?" he pants, thrusting his hips messily into your hand. He's so fucking sensitive that you swear you can see his eyes growing shiny.

"The one where I help you out, so don't be a brat," you murmur. L laughs breathlessly, trying, you think, to summon some retort. You twist your fist around him and it died, half-formed in his brain, his eyes rolling back and fingers flexing hard in the sheets.

After another minute, he reaches out and grabs your wrist hard enough to bruise. He doesn't say it—can't, maybe. But you know. Your pace speeds up just a touch and he honest to god moans, spilling out of him soft and breathy before he comes, streaking over his stomach in pearly arcs. You watch him flinch at the contact, fingers slipping on your wrist. His chest flexes—in, out, in, out.

You collect a big scoop of pink frosting on your finger and dip it in the come starting to cool between his pecs before pressing it to his lips. L's brow wrinkles, startled—but he opens his lips and lets your fingers pass into the hot cavern of his mouth. Like a cat he licks your finger clean, pointed pink tongue prodding with no technique or flourish, just something steadfast, something stubborn.

You do him the dignity of tucking his softened cock back into his underwear and zipping up his jeans. Unsure how to proceed until L sits up rather abruptly. His hair is even more tousled from his tossing and turning as he reaches for a tissue to wipe himself down.

He looks at you. "I understand it's customary to offer some sort of equivalent exchange in these circumstances." A pause whilst he gathers his breath. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm not quite feeling up to the task."

His tone is normal, if a little shaky. You rock back on your heels. "Did you like it?"

L blinks at you. "My curiosity has been sated," he says, carefully. "Yes, I believe I did enjoy it."

Well, that's a relief if nothing else. The pink remnants of the strawberry cake it on the plate; the shade matches his blush.

[electrosair]

hehehe, hii!! may I req where Ayato, Childe, Scaramouche, Diluc, and Alhaitham get into a fight with their s/o the previous night, but in the morning they're extremely clingy after that? :D:D fluff after angst is always the best hehe

The following morning

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: alhaitham + ayato + scaramouche

I did something similar with Diluc and Childe here (also Gorou), so to avoid repeating myself I preferred not to do it about them and leave the link in case you want to read it, thanks for the request <3

word count: 0.5k

Alhaitham

There are few things you can fight with Alhaitham about where he actually gets annoyed with you to the point where he doesn't want to talk to you anymore. So even if he's not that upset about the situation, if you are, he's going to let you relax first before trying to work things out between the two of you. At bedtime he would not think much of your anger, he would pick up his book and start reading without paying attention to your body, which was turning away from him until you finally fell asleep. He would switch off the light on his bedside table to do the same. He would let you sleep peacefully, and when he sees that you have rested enough, he might wake you up with light caresses on your shoulders and back. He'd hope that the little pain you had from last night's fight would have gone away and you'd complain as usual, burying your head in his chest to close your eyes again.

Ayato

He would try to always keep a calm tone to avoid increasing and fueling the fire of your anger, even if it is small, he hates to argue with you and more when he knows it is for a stupid reason that does not deserve so much time or saliva from any of you. His main concern would be to solve the reason for the fight as soon as possible, but he can't do anything if you are not willing or prepared to talk about it again and this time discuss it in a more pleasant way and without raising your voice. So he would hold out until the next day, even if you don't pay as much attention to him because of your mood, Ayato would go about the rest of the day as normal, asking you what you want for dinner and so on. Maybe that way you would relax a little. Once you are both awake and with things more digested, he would laugh while imprisoning you in bed, he doesn't plan to let you out until he can have a normal conversation with you without you dodging his every word.

Scaramouche

Discussions would be heated, probably with some shouting in between your exchanges. Rather than waiting for you to be the one to cool down, he is the one who probably needs to calm himself the most before speaking or doing anything else. When you get into bed, you are going to do it alone, because his ego will not allow him to cuddle you while he is lying unconscious on the pillow like he does every night. So he'll end up yawning and wandering around the house looking for something to do or taking short naps on the couch. And by surprise to you when you wake up again by the sunlight that illuminated your face in the morning, you will see that he could no longer resist. Scaramouche would return to your bed in the middle of the night, when he makes sure you are sound asleep. He would have a hard time apologizing once he gets up, but he would spend the rest of the day right along with you.

[rustycopper4use]

Ok, uhm....I've seen someone make a request for poly Ozzie x Fizz x Reader in which the reader is Blitzø's brother, but I got a better one for you! How about (poly ofc) Ozzie x Fizz x Male Reader who is Striker's older brother? Like, maybe he heard about what happened in greed ring and came to apologise on his brother's behalf and maybe offer his services as bodyguard?

Fizz x Ozzie x Male reader!

sorry I went a little bit off the rails but I hope you like it!!

At the beginning you were close to fizzaroli as kids.

 you first met him at one of his shows, and you would try to see all his shows. And ended up dragging your younger brother striker to them, much to his protests.

  You would spend hours with fizzaroli, him being the only sense of affection in your life. Giving your family’s old fashioned values. His was the escape from it all.

 Your father resented the wasted time spent with some lowly circus clown, he would try every thing to make you to stop seeing him. After awhile he even turned Striker against you, which in retrospect wasn’t hard he idolized him. 

 In the ended up with you sneaking out the house everyday to see the goofy imp.

 However that was until the fire. You had been only been able to talk to him when you actually came to the circus.

 So one day you went to see him, with a small birthday gift you’d be able to pay for.

 only to met with ashes, and burnt remains of childhood memories, it was hauntingly void of life still fresh with smoke.

 And you never heard from him again.

  You left the gift in the remains. It became a regular thing, you’d leave a small gift every year on his birthday.

  A way to remember him, maybe you’d just like the sadness that came with it rather than the bitter empty feeling in your cold aching chest. 

 Or you’re still in denial, waiting for the day he’ll somehow come back and it’ll be some big cruel joke.

  After that you replaced that time with meaningless jobs, helping dad around the farm. 

  While your younger brother took up kill for hire, you would be along aside for protection, an extra set of hands. 

 This new attitude brought a sense of pride to the rest of the family.

 Your relationship wasn’t the same with your less than functional family. You weren’t ever close to your father or brother but, it got even more distant. Opting for only talking when needed.

  One day striker came back from a job beaten bruised, and burned.

 As you fixed him up, he whined about his failed attempt, he brought up an all to familiar name.

 “Y’know that lowlife clown was such a brat to deal with, and his pathetic friend Blizto-“

 “Are you talking about fizzaroli?”

 “-Wait no, Fizzaroli’s alive?.”

 “Look I don’t care if you had a soft spot for that thing, I had a job and I’m gonna go through with it.”

 “You never thought to tell me he was alive!”

 “Of course I didn’t, Dad and I knew you were going to act like this, you became a better demon because of us.”

 “Get out.”

 Striker gets to door before turning back towards you.

 “Im not gonna give up this job because you’ve grown weak.”

 “Oh I know you won’t.”

 He left.

  You weren’t sure what to do now. Striker was a stubborn person, he wouldn’t give up till Fizzaroli’s head was on a stick.

  Luckily for you. you were just as petty as the snake.

 For the next few days you looked for opportunities to work at Ozzie’s. You came across for a listing for a personal bodyguard for Fizz. 

 You got scheduled for an interview, part of you dreaded seeing him again.

 You headed down(up?) to the lust ring. The gorgeous neon lights, against the calming rain.

  The Ozzie’s club was nothing short of a spectacle. And the start to your new life.

  Ozzie was apprehensive on hiring someone with relations with the demon that kidnapped Fizzaroli in the first place. 

 But Fizz reassured his worries, he knew you weren’t like him.

 The start of this job was- not exactly awkward, but there was this weird air around you three. A few weeks in and you’ve finally settled in, you grew comfortable with the duo and life finally felt back on track.

 You still felt guilt for what your brother did, you would always give gifts to fizzaroli as a form of an apology, a better change than what you did for 15 years. You also get into the habit of going above what was asked for even at your own expense.

 Even when Fizzaroli explained he didn’t blame you, it was your brother’s actions after all. You settled for buying him flowers every other day.

  The two would flirt with you, fizzaroli being more bold, knowing exactly what makes you tick and that special spot that makes you melt.

  Ozzie on the other hand, had a different approach. He took on a more romantic strategy, he learned very early on that his voice was your weakness, a few praises and you were a goner. 

 When striker found out he was pissed. His own brother fooling around with blue blood, how did you turn out like this.

 Every time he would show up you always up lovey-dovey just to rub salt in a wound.

  Fizzaroli adored it when you’d get riled up and your southern accent would slip. He would purposely push your buttons lovingly just to hear it.

 Every time Fizzaroli would want attention you’d always make sure to hold his face given it’s the only part he can really feel now.

 Ozzie was the only one that Could cook, and that still didn’t change with you around. Sure you weren’t as bad as Fizz but still.

 Fizzaroli would call you a cowboy (affectionately)

[urf1lterr]

lovesick | pedro pascal [3]

"and on this night and in this light i think im falling, im falling for you."

next chapter: [4] previous chapter: [2] series masterlist

summary: in which a 1975-obsessed film student accidentally falls in love with an older man she can't have.

pairing: actor!pedro x intern!reader

genre: acting world!au, big age-gap!, strangers to friends- maybe lovers?? au | angst, mature, awkward, love- eventually

word count: 5.7k

status: in progress

author's note: in my head i have a certain way this story ends- but thats farrrr from this chapter. i couldn't stop laughing while writing this. i might have to rethink my ending bc i don't wanna make this series looooong. not edited.

Brutal banging on your bedroom door was not how you imagined to be awakened, especially when you were barely endearing maybe four hours of sleep.

Jolting up, you could feel your shoulders begin to ache as your severely tangled hair got stuck on the insides of your shirt. The shades in your room being shut, you had no sunlight whatsoever so you weren't sure what time it was.

Not like you needed to be anywhere important on a Wednesday- not until later anyway. Wednesday's were your arranged day off from school so you made sure to plan something productive to not feel more useless as you already were.

Typically, you were scheduled to work on these days- but we all know how that ended.

Thinking about your unemployment status aggravated you. The same day you were told you were going to be cut was actually your last despite being scheduled for the rest of that remaining week.

Oh how you wish you could say you didn't show up because of your stubbornness.

But frankly you had covid.

Not only did that job fire you, but they gave you a thoughtful farewell gift of a deadly virus to remember them goodbye.

Guess they took their storyline a little too seriously.

However, you did receive a few texts from your old coworkers wishing you well. At first, you wondered if Finn disclosed your personal medical information after you contacted him, but Jules admitted to doing so, swearing she only told Joon with the likelihood someone overheard and the rest was history.

Sadly, you barely talked to Pedro and Bella anymore.

The duo did reach out once they discovered you were sick and Bella would occasionally send you tiktoks at the most randomly times. But again, occasionally.

Pedro, on the other hand, never got back in touch after his 'feel better' text.

You weren't exactly distraught over it, it wasn't like you two made it your mission as friends to go out every day. But the thing was, you still did that when you worked together. Barely seeing him for a few seconds on some days in the past still meant you got to see him, but now you don't.

And strangely you miss him.

You always heard your coworkers discuss how considerate and down to Earth he was whenever they managed to work with him and you agreed. All the stories of him being one of the rarest, mindful human beings were true.

He was always the one spamming you with texts, but the only messages you received now were from your roommate, Joon, or the deals sent by your favorite food places.

But you weren't going to think too much of it. He's an adult, his days are always scheduled with new projects. You can't blame him for not making time for you.

Two weeks later here you were, using your extra free time to your advantage to stay up past midnight watching shows like Hell's Kitchen while eating ramen noodles.

The only con was you had the tendency to wake up late all the time.

Yanking the warm covers off your body, you slowly slip out of bed trying not to hit your desk by how poor your vision was at the moment. Opening your door, you give daggers to the other person behind it. "Is there a reason why you felt attempting to break my door was necessary?"

Jules sheepishly smiled, lightly rubbing the door in remorse before continuing. "I just wanted to remind you about our study date!"

"That's at 11."

"It's 10:32," she replied, pulling her phone out and showing you.

Gasping, you shut the door in her face before searching for clothes to wear. How could you possibly sleep in?

Actually, it was quite easy with American Horror Story having amazing plot twists. You decided to switch up your late night shows every now and then to spice things up.

But you were certain you turned on your alarm the night before. You must have slept through them. Damn, you were turning into Jules.

Quickly running to the bathroom to take a quick shower, you managed to finish the rest of your routine with ten minutes left to spare. You were certainly glad you could always count on the city's nonstop traffic as an excuse for your late arrivals.

Once you were able to catch a cab, which was a tremendous struggle considering your hand signals weren't clear enough to apprehend, Jules and you made it to a coffee shop a few streets away.

Being your designated place to study, you had to introduce Joon to it. He was practically the fifth member of the group, the third one being one of Jules' friend you frequently talked to and the fourth being the one you shared with Joon.

The best part about this cafe would have to be that it was two stories. You guess you could say you used the upstairs room conveniently when it came to debating, definitely not being afraid to raise your voice when your friends believed disagreeing with your opinions was acceptable.

"I didn't know a triple meant three shots of espresso," Joon pulled a disgusted face as Jules and you arrived to your familiar large booth. Sliding right next to him, you saw the coffee he was drinking was extremely dark. "I thought it meant three shots of creamer."

"For a guy who is phenomenally smart, you are phenomenally stupid," you heard your shared friend, Yoongi, comment after looking up from his notes.

The next hour consisted of the five of you centralizing your attention on your individual work before you decided you wanted to buy a coffee as your energy slowly drained away.

Walking down the stairs and placing a swift order, you stood to the side of the counter waiting as they prepared it. Scrolling through your phone to pass the short time, you felt someone near you.

"Hey, covid girl!" you heard a man exclaim, causing you to rush and shush him before the customers begin giving you the eye. "Long time no see."

"Don't expose me like that! I'm negative," you flush, tapping your fingers on your face to cool it down.

"Don't expose me," he clarifies, taking two steps back. "You're the one who's sick."

"Was," you groan, not standing for his teasing this morning. "Stop messing me with me, Nick. I am just a tired, broke college student who can't take anymore mocking in their life."

Nick chuckles, not denying that may be the case. He understands how you're feeling, he was once a student and knows how stressful it can be. Honestly, he can only imagine how tough it is now compared to when he last attended.

Inflation was no joke.

"I take it you're studying?" he eyes the large black frames on your head and the thick headphones around your neck. You only nod, making him laugh. "Very studious I see, it's a shame they let you go even after I told them not to. You could've done our taxes."

Pulling a forced smile, you just raise your right shoulder slightly not really wanting to talk about it much.

"Good thing I am very understanding," you joke.

"Hell, I wouldn't be," he curses, shaking his head briskly. "The least they could've done was offer another position while we left the country."

"When are you guys leaving anyway?'"

He looks up at the ceiling, trying hard to remember the exact date before clapping his hands. "The 3rd of next month."

"Three weeks from now? Are you ready for the cold and the snow?" you laugh as he shakes his head.

"Dealt with it growing up, don't wanna do it again," he groans before a barista calls out his name for his coffee. He excuses himself for a minute, grabbing the coffee along with a few napkins before walking back to you. "Have to get back to filming, they only gave me a half an hour break before we change scenes. Good look in university, kiddo. If you ever need anything you always have my number."

With that, he retreated back outside but not before sending you one final wave. You loathed the fact you missed them, but you had to get over it.

Grabbing your coffee once your name was called, you walked back up the stairs to find your friends staring at their own laptops as if they were going to breakdown in tears any second.

"When I tell you I would rather give up one of kidneys than learn about screenwriting," Jules weeps, pulling her hair in distress. "I just wanna tell people what to do, not write stories."

And that's how your whole study session went, one of you having your own malfunctions for the next few hours before the five of you agreed to end it.

"I am going to get a refill, meet you by the door?" Jules asked as you packed up your school belongings. You nodded, allowing her to walk downstairs with her friend as you stayed behind with the two other boys.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Joon called out as the three of you were making your way down the stairs. "I'll be out in a jiffy."

With that, Yoongi and you were stuck around a large crowd of customers trying to get their coffees in this 5 o'clock chilly evening. And one thing about these customers, they loved to push.

"If one more person hits my arm a brawl will unfold," Yoongi proclaims, making sure to raise his voice a bit to make his point come across. Which did nothing as he was granted another push in his arm in return.

Moving you head towards the exit, you made it clear to Yoongi that you two were better off just waiting outside unless you wanted to continue being compressed by total strangers whose been god knows where.

Feeling Yoongi's loss of touch from your shoulder, you sensed a group of friends rudely crossing between you both in order to make it to the front of the shop.

It amazed you how people had no manners in public places.

"Ah!" you shriek, feeling somebody aimlessly hit your body hard, knocking the wind out of you as you fell on your side.

That was until arms wrapped tightly under your upper arms, barely being able to stop your whole body from touching the ground as you felt you legs lay across the cold floor.

With the strong pair of arms effectively pulling you up, it caused you to slam your body against their unknown chest as the mob of customers didn't seem to die down any time soon.

Trying to find some stability, your eyes widened as your peripheral vision was met with a broad chest that you were too scared to figure discover who it belonged to.

This could either end with you meeting the love of you life or encountering a complete weirdo.

Moving your gaze upwards, you were met with familiar brown eyes that creased slightly as a gentle smile was released.

Okay, the second option was indeed your answer.

"Pedro? You fucking scared me!" you pushed him away, slapping his chest as he whined in response, clutching it in pain. "I was going to grab my pepper spray!"

"I see you're still satan," he glared as you crossed your arms. "No 'thank you for saving my severely mentally mad life from the mass of people who could've stamped over me'?"

Expressing an infuriated expression as he scared you, you begin to walk away from him but he quickly pulls you back into his arms and stares down at you. "Why are you leaving?"

"My friends are outside," you declare as he peers over the crowd to see who you were talking about.

He glances back down at you before pushing you straight by your waist, causing you to trust his guidance as he directed you backwards until you were against one of the walls to avoid being crushed again.

"Wait, my friends-"

"You wear glasses?" he slightly grasps the frames propped on your face, generating a strike from you. "What a dweeb you are."

"Isn't this a question you can ask through text?" you remark, causing him to purse his lips at how mediocre you were being.

"Oh come on, kid! I haven't seen you in weeks, it's my right to ask questions," he defends, giving you a staggering look as you sighed.

"And my glasses were the first thing that came to mind? Very clever."

"Would you rather me ask why we say 'cool' when it's not really cold?"

Studying his face in pure boredom, you set out to march past him but he pushes your shoulders back again, forcing you to stay put. "Sorry! Just trying to lighten the mood."

Scanning past him, you tried to locate your friends but to no luck they were absent. Glancing back up at him, you take a deep breath. "I really have to go before they leave me stranded a-."

"I can take you home," he instantly speaks up. "I know where you live remember."

Laughing, you disagree with his proposal. You arrived with Jules, you were leaving with her. But you were curious as to why he hasn't left you alone. It surely couldn't be just to chat about corny jokes-

Actually, you've had many of those conversions in the past.

"Is there a reason why you aren't letting me escape?" you blurt out, making him tilt his head suspiciously, trying to figure out what you were speculating.

His body language became edgy as he motioned his palm out in front of you. "I just so happened to drop by for some coffee and ended up being tackled by you," he confessed, making you scoff. "We haven't talked for some time, I wanted to check up and see how you were doing."

"I am as happy as a clam," you let out a radiant smile, making him squint his eyes and direct them to the side.

"English, please?" he pleaded.

"It means I am very happy," you respond, standing up straighter as he questioned you longer with his eyes as if he didn't believe a single word you were saying. "Everybody knows that expression."

"They really don't," he denies, giving you an awkward smile by your strange dialogue. "Anywho, I've been wanting to talk to you."

"Then why didn't you call?" you accidentally spit out, shutting your mouth as you grasped how bitter it came out.

He caught onto the sound of your tone, registering how unhappy you must've been for abandoning you friendship after strongly bonding for two months.

But he couldn't let you believe he did it on purpose, he had a reason. One that he was finally going to disclose after fighting battles until it was finally approved. "I was preoccupied with something else, I really am sorry," he apologized. "But I was going to reach out today."

Uncomfortably shrugging, you don't put too much thought into it. You didn't want him to assume you were upset, but you had a feeling he could sense it by how tense you were becoming.

"For what?"

He looked around before averting his eyes back to your own, grinning widely. "So I think there's a chance you'd be able to get your internship back."

Standing up straighter, you stared at him dumbfounded. What the hell was he talking about?

"How? They already terminated our useless contracts," you argue. "Why hassle making another one."

"Work for me," he ignores your sour tone, getting straight to the point.

This was why he didn't have time to communicate. Too busy trying to find ways to convince his own boss to keep you, it led to him being in a bad mood after failing each attempt.

He couldn't talk to you knowing his plan went wrong.

After the constant begging, whines, and even going out of his way to format a ridiculous petition as to why you should stay, which centers all interns because he didn't want to throw himself under the bus for you- the main producer eventually gave in.

"You want me to work for you here when you're leaving the country in a few weeks?" you narrow your eyes, confused as to how that was going to work out in the end.

"I was going to sneak you into my suitcase."

"What in the world are you rambling about?" you exhaled sharply.

Pedro grinned brightly as he held onto your shoulders again, "Come with us to Canada."

"No," you quickly answer, not even processing fully but you knew it could never happen.

There was no possible way you could ever go through with this. For one, you can't even leave the country. You parents were so strict they'll probably smuggle drugs in your luggage so you'll be gunned down and locked into the country.

Second, well there really isn't another reason- your parents were enough.

"Oh come on," he whined. "It'll be great! You'll gain so much experience like you've been wanting. Plus, you'd do more hands-on work with the film crew. Think of it as a student exchange program."

"That's literally not what a student exchange program is."

"Stop rejecting the idea. You go to school here, yeah? I assume you're taking classes online because you basically lived at the studio," he implied and you slowly nodded. "We can adjust your schedule to where you'd have time to work and focus on school."

Silently looking to the table nearby, you began digesting what he was going on about. It wasn't a bad idea, but it wasn't an easy one either. "My parents would never let me."

"Give me their number and I'll convince them," he persuades and you sway you head. You wanted to laugh in his face if he really believed he could make your parents agree.

"No," you fight back, watching him exhale loudly by how restrained you were being. "I k-"

"What would Matt Healy do?"

Immediately shutting your mouth, you freeze as he catches you off guard. He did not come to play and knew you well enough to use your weaknesses against you.

He knows Matt Healy would easily agree- that man was literally the devil's spawn.

And god, you just knew Matt would be disappointed in you if you didn't go.

Curse you and your infatuation over this short English man.

Luckily, your thoughts disappeared as you felt a tap on your arm. Looking up, you see Yoongi breathing heavily as Pedro eyes him, unsure if you knew him.

"There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere! My god the lecture your friend gave me about losing you-" he groaned, shivering. "-I was certain she was gonna file a police report."

Slowly averting his eyes to the older man beside you, Yoongi's face fills with curiosity. "Hey, aren't you that one guy from that Netflix show..." he stops, looking up as he tried hard remembering the name. "Narcos!"

Pedro's eyes shoot open as he tries to innocently stretch his body, purposely blocking your view of him, "No." Secretly waving his palm across his neck, he sends Yoongi daggers to keep quiet. Stiffly turning to you, he becomes flustered. "But don't watch that show."

Raising a brow, you decide to drop the random topic and focus your attention back to your friend until you heard another person shriek. The three of you searching to where it came from, you find Namjoon stumble between people, trying his hardest not to fall face first on the floor.

"A jiffy later and I'm back," Joon winks once he's released from the mass.

Pedro scrunches his face. "Jiffy?"

Joon breaks out into smiles once he notices who was with Yoongi and you. "Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Did you miss us that much?"

"I don't think it was you he missed," Yoongi muttered, making Pedro send him a questionable glance and Joon tilt his head, not sure what he meant.

Wanting to leave this now weirder conversation, you step forward and grab onto Yoongi's shoulder. "Let's go, I wanna breathe." Turning your attention back to Pedro, he swiftly moved his eyes from your hand to your own. "Text me if you need anything else."

"Only you," he sends you a cheeky smile making you blush by how nice he was being. Yoongi glanced at the two of you, dazed as what you two were implying.

Staring at him, you waited for him to say his farewells first so everybody could leave already. Waiting for one, you never received anything but his quiet stance and gaze stuck on you.

It felt strange not feeling the strength to walk away- not even the strength but the need to go anymore as you couldn't take your eyes off him. It also wasn't only you as he couldn't help but bear comfort from the sight of you.

It felt like the both of you were interacting to each other in your minds.

"Are you having a staring contest?" Joon questioned, making your your consciousness come back to life as you looked back at him. Pedro's gaze weakened, but they were still on you as yours was unfortunately long forgotten.

"No," you laughed, now gripping onto Yoongi harder. "But seriously, let's get out of here. See you whenever, Pedro."

Watching as you stayed close to your guy friends in hopes of being secured through the populated room, he sighed to himself. He was sure your friends might confess their own intuitions to you and perceive him as a creep.

The sad part was he knew why your particular friend would have his suspicions. He never knew his age would have that much of an effect, but he never hung out with people that young before unless it was for a project.

Shaking these thoughts away from his head, he chuckled to himself. He shouldn't care about what other people thought, the two of you never engaged in anything but friendly encounters.

He just despised his gut feeling as if he was doing something wrong. People are making him feel this way, that was guaranteed.

But he feels awful how he keeps trying to find ways to see you, too embarrassed to think about the things he done just to see you for not even a minute.

He's just never had a friend like you before. It was nice.

"I can't believe he's offering us a job like that!" Jules exclaimed as Joon and you nodded. Yoongi lived in the opposite direction so he made his departure a few minutes ago as well as her friend. "I can't go."

Widening your eyes, you stared at her. "What? Why?"

She laughs before pointing at herself. "You think I'll be able to properly manage school and work in another country? I barely did that these last two months- I'll just be partying it up at hockey games eating gravy with fries."

"You mean poutine," Joon corrected.

"Same thing," she rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying is, being home made me realize how much I love sleeping. I would rather give that up when I graduate and actually have a real adult job."

She did have a point, she really enjoyed her naps.

"I'll consider it," Joon spoke up, putting his hands inside his hoodie as the three of you continued walking. "Doesn't sound too bad, it'll look good on resumes."

Smiling, you nodded. You weren't sure why you even dared to be happy about this when you were the one wanting nothing to do with the idea not even a half an hour ago.

You just knew your lord was giving you a disapproving glare from the clouds.

Within the next 20 minutes, Joon went his separate way home as Jules and you arrived in front of your shared apartment. Rushing to the bathroom, your roommate excused herself for the next hour for her 'needed' relaxation.

In other words, a bubble bath.

Turning on the tv, you sat down on the couch swiping through boring news channels until you decided to switch to Netflix. You still had to make time for Evan Peters before the night ended.

Clicking on the current season you were on, Freak Show, you began thinking about how massive Evan Peter's hands were. How can his girlfriends survive.

The thought freaked you out, this really was a freak show.

Soon, the next episode began featuring Twisty the clown more and you were terrified by how huge he was. He could crush you with a flick of his fingers.

Knocks on your door alarmed you, making you slightly jump and look towards the bathroom. Your roommate's music was softly playing in the background meaning she probably couldn't hear the blows on the door.

Slowly standing up, you grab the bat you keep near the door, in case someone tries viciously murdering you in your doorway, and go on your tiptoes to see what kind of stranger needed to pay a visit in the middle of the night.

Well, it wasn't even 7 o'clock in the evening yet but you get the point.

Gasping at the sight presented through your little peep hole, you promptly unlock the handles before extending the large door wide. "And why exactly are you here? Miss me that much?" you tease.

Not receiving an answer, you scoff. "Are you really giving me the silent treatment? You're hurting my feelings."

When he didn't react to that either, you felt your face drop. Slowly striding towards him, you notice his head was low as he stared at his shoes. Placing your right palm softly on his left shoulder, you felt him glance up.

Did something happen during your short time apart? Was he in trouble?

Knowing it was really you in front of him, Pedro lunged his body onto yours before you could stop and think about what was happening. Colliding his lips upon yours, you felt your thoughts drift away as he steadily moved forward and made his way inside your warm apartment.

Stopping to swiftly shut the door, you had no time to take in a full breathe before his mouth found yours again. Clutching the back of his head, probably pulling his hair out, you groan as his nails claw your exposed waist, your shirt slowly inching up more and more as the seconds went up. Slipping his tongue inside you, you felt the way his nose hit yours as dominance took over.

He wanted to control all of you.

It wasn't until your legs began wobbling from the long standing when his hands lost your waist, instantly making contact with the back of your thighs, squeezing them, soon allowing them to suffocate his sides. Following his lead, you pull your lips back before diving them to the corner of his jaw as he groaned, walking to god knows where.

You figured out where once you shrieked as your back made contact with your couch, his palms widening your legs in a hurry before situating himself on top of you. Surprisingly, the difference of weight wasn't an issue as he clinged harder against you, moving his hand behind your neck to pull it down, making sure to make you feel the pain of the slight hair tugging.

"What are y-" you softly choke, voice coming out in whimpers as he ignored you. Latching his lips to the top of your chin, he stuck his tongue out, dragging it gradually down your neck as your back arched, needing to feel closer to him if that was even possible. Your wish was his command as he hastily pressed himself against you, making you groan in surprise.

Making his way lower, he passes your neck down to your chest while his hands found their to your collarbone, smoothly rubbing the area up and down before clutching onto it harshly as he continue down his path. Something about the way his soft fingertips applying pressure near your neck as his lips kept kissing the rest of your body had you in wonders. You couldn't believe this was happening.

It wasn't until you felt his mouth near your exposed waist that made you completely lose it. You had long forgotten that Jules was in the room next door when you gasped, feeling his teeth swipe against your skin. "Shhh," he whispered against your lips as a way to silence you. "Don't want to let your friend know I'm here now, do we?"

You could only stammer shaky sounds as he planted a few more deep kisses, slowly pulling away and feeling the wetness of both your mouths descend down. He gave you one last dark gaze before returning his mouth on yours, loving the feeling of the dampness between your faces.

His mouth opening wider, he began intensively tasting you, swiping his tongue around your lips as you tried to keep up with his eagerness. Not giving you much time to catch his pace, you could feel how wet he was making you.

No, he was literally drowning your face.

Pulling back, you squint your eyes and take a few seconds to adjust to the poor lighting in your living room. You were met with dark, green eyes.

Lady Gaga.

Shrieking, you grab the black, green-eyed demon on top of you and throw her off, causing her to let out a loud hiss with the immediate sounds of footsteps following afterwards.

"Lady Gaga!" you hear Jules squeal in her pink robe, wrapping the nauseating cat in her arms before turning to you, giving you a look of rage. "Did you throw her?!"

"She licked me!"

Jules scoffed harshly before hurling a nearby pillow at you, allowing it to hit your face in full force before stomping back to her door and violently slamming it shut.

You fucking hated that cat.

Laying back against the couch, you rubbed your red face in humiliation. Not only did you have an intense dream about Pedro but you're pretty sure you just had a full on make-out session with a cat.

Groaning, you couldn't believe what was happening to you. Why would you dream about him-

No- why would you have one doing not so child friendly activities?!

You just know you'll never be able to face him with a straight face, too embarrassed to even be near him now without thinking about this moment.

It wasn't even like you thought about him in that way- you didn't.

Maybe your time of the month was approaching or you were in desperate need of a date because there's no way any normal human being would fantasize over some older man that way.

Okay, maybe it was possible.

But that was definitely not you...even though you just did. Although, you did see the comparison between him and Lady Gaga.

They looked kind of alike- right? Same whiskers.

One thing that was certain was you were never going to tell anybody about this. If people believed for one second you had feelings for him, which you don't, you'll never hear the end of it.

He was not your type nor close to your age. It would never happen.

Sighing, you close your eyes and silently send out a prayer to not engage in another session with the demonic cat. Maybe sleep will make you think clearly once awoken and abolish all these wild concepts floating through your head.

But once you were actually awoken, your mind still wasn't clear- or maybe it was because the pounding on your door ultimately pulled you from your slumber.

Stretching your arms, you scratch the top of your head as you try to open your eyes but it was no use, you were way too tired to fully engage with anybody right now.

Completely avoiding looking through the peep hole, which was a red flag on your part, you swing the door open to find a man who looked like Pedro standing on the other side of it.

Groaning aloud, you slap yourself as he takes this by surprised, not sure why you just did that.

How are you having another dream about him? Was this the bad luck needed after scoring tickets to your favorite band? Is this some kind of sick revenge someone has against you?

Pointing at Lady Gaga, who was dressed up as Pedro, you rudely spit out the words needed to be said. "You are just a cat. Nothing happened between us."

With that, you step back inside, ignoring Lady Gaga's attempts of trying to gain your attention by waving their arms in front of you. Making your way to your room, you see Jules walk out of hers.

"Who was that at the door?" she questions, hearing another round of knocks appear.

You tiredly wave your hand in nonsense, denying that thought. "It was Lady Gaga, go back to bed."

Jules sends you a bewildered look as you enter your bedroom and face-plant on your cozy bed, allowing sleep to reel you back in. Turning her head, she looks at Lady Gaga who was sitting casually by her bedroom door.

"She is turning fucking nuts," she whispers to herself before swiftly opening the door to reveal a very confused Pedro. "What's up?"

Pedro's concerned face takes over his actions as he jumps to his eager questions. "Is y/n okay? She thought I was a cat."

Jules shrugs, rubbing her eyes with her palm. "Who knows, I think she's getting over her coffee hangover."

Pedro carefully nods, still skeptical as to what happened to you. What did you mean nothing happened between you two? Did something happen that he wasn't aware of?

Were you hiding something from him?

Gracelessly gesturing his leave, Pedro walked quickly down the hall as Jules stood there for a moment too tired to comprehend why he paid the apartment a visit this early in the morning. The sun was barely out, why did he come?

After shutting the door and taking a seat on the couch, she laid back and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but for some reason a strange intellect emerged out of nowhere.

She shrugged it off, instantaneously knocking out, too exhausted to conquer her suspicions.

+

taglist: @thesapphirequeen @floralsightings @wrathofcats

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.  

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

[the-badger-mole]

In the debate between pro-aang-kill-ozai and anti-aang-kill-ozai. Which side are you on and why? If it's the anti then did you like how it was done or do you picture something else?

I think I've mentioned before, but I am not inherently against Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. Some of my favorite heroes have a no-kill policy. I don't even mind the lionturtle solution itself. What I didn't like was how it was handled. There was plenty of time to address Aang's reluctance to kill before the second to last episode. I can think of three points in particular where it would've been thematically appropriate and given Aang's bland, two-dimensional character some depth.

First, right after the siege at the Northern Tribe. Aang may not have technically been the one who killed all those Fire Nation soldiers, but it couldn't have happened without him. You would think that someone who is both committed to pacifism and also the one the entire world is relying on to end a war that people have been fighting and dying in for a century wouldn't just be able to shrug off what happened. Aang did, though. Didn't even cross his mind when he was whining about people expecting him to kill Ozai.

What should have happened was the next season should've opened with Aang grappling with what happened and his part in it. He should feel guilty about it, not because he was actually wrong, but because it should feel wrong to him. Then, Katara and Sokka should comfort him and tell him he did nothing wrong. Build it up that their word are comforting him a little, then drop the bomb when they start talking about how cool it was. How amazing it was to see all those soldiers running in fear for once. How relieved they are that so many of them died. Then have Aang snap on them about the sanctity of life. He needs to be angry and hurt, and this should be the point where he decries the powers of the Avatar. He'd call himself a monster, and maybe he would call Katara and Sokka monsters, too. Then they (probably mostly Sokka) would argue with him that they aren't monsters, they're just trying to survive, and the Fire Nation is a threat to be taken out. This would be the first time it's brought up that Katara, Sokka...the entire world expect Aang to kill Ozai. I think it would be perfect as a season 2 opener. Season 1 was light and goofy, and Zuko was their biggest immediate threat. The siege raised the stakes, and season 2 should continue on that rising. Aang should also have started looking for another solution here. In the library, Aang should've asked Wan Shi Tong if it was possible to end the war without more violence. We should've seen Aang coming to terms with the fact that the world is suffering and he is the one they are looking to to save them. One thing I think the Harry Potter movies in particular did well was that shift from goofy and whimsical to darker and more frightening (as far as kids movies go) as the story went on and the stakes got higher, and the danger felt more real to the characters. Aang never gets that realization. He has moments when the danger feels real, but he's goofy and whimsical for pretty much the entire series until the plot of an episode needs him not to be.

The second place they should have brought up his reluctance to kill was DoBS. This really should've been a no brainer. Aang was loosing sleep over facing Ozai. He had his anxiety about losing- though not really what losing would mean for his friends and the world- but he didn't even consider what winning would take. If DoBS had been successful, there's no way Ozai would've been able to be taken alive. Logistically, killing him would've been the easiest, safest option. You mean to tell me no one brought it up? No one asked Aang how he was planning to take Ozai out? No, instead we get Aang proving he knows what enthusiastic consent looks like and taking away his excuse for what happened later, but nothing about Aang weighing his personal beliefs against the needs of the world. That training montage and confrontation that he has with his friends in the second to last episode should've happened here. This should've been when his tendency to run away should've been challenged, too, because half a season before he was crying about how he abandoned the world again. Now his instinct would be to run, but his friends would challenge him, calling back to that moment. They could demand that he present an alternative to killing Ozai. I don't think any of them would object to him living to stand trial, but Ozai is a rabid dog, essentially. He needs to be put down. Aang's got nothing, but not for lack of trying. When he tells his friends about all his efforts to find a non-lethal way to defeat Ozai, they are unmoved. They are at the doors of the Fire Nation, and now is not the time to be indecisive. He has to go face Ozai. And he's probably relieved when the plan fails. This whole situation would have the added bonus of skipping that first Kataang kiss because no way would Aang want to kiss Katara after her insisting he terminate Ozai with extreme prejudice.

The third place Aang's no-kill policy should've come up is TSR when Zuko asks him what he's planning to do when he faces Ozai if he's so against killing. This should scare Aang, and it should be his focus for the rest of the season. He should be more withdrawn from his friends, because with all the training he's doing (and he would still be training on all the elements because he's not that good at any of them), talks about the most efficient way to kill would be unavoidable. Katara might actually try to teach him bloodbending. Toph would just tell him that a big rock is just as effective as some fancy bending move. Zuko would be warning him about his father's ruthlessness and cunning. This would be where Aang looses his patience with his friends and insists that he's a pacifist and Ozai doesn't deserve to die. This would piss Katara in particular off because by this point, Aang knows what happened to her mother. He would get an earful about how Ozai's plan is to do to the Earth Kingdom what his grandfather did to the Air Nomads and how he's going to let millions of people die because of his refusal to kill one. Now, Aang can take off, only instead of just running away from his friends because he doesn't want to hear them anymore, he could be making one desperate last ditch attempt to find a solution that both ends the war and keeps him from having to kill Ozai. EIP could still happen in this circumstance, but instead of getting mad that he's being played by a girl, he would focus more on how eager for his death the Fire Nation is. That would come up in the argument about killing Ozai.

Now, for the lionturtle. I'm about to blow some minds. I have been vocal about my hatred of the Lionturtle/Rock of Destiny desu-ex-double team, and I do still hate it with a passion. However, as a concept, I don't mind the lionturtle. This is a fantasy adventure. You expect a bit of magical intervention. What I wanted was Aang grappling with this problem for more than half an episode. I wanted him working on a solution the entire time, starting from right after the siege. I wanted to see him take initiative. To actually think about the problem. Maybe have him specifically looking for the lionturtle. Then when it shows it, it could be because it knew Aang was looking and decided he was worthy of a meeting. Aang could still have his meeting with his past lives, and that could still go the way it did. Then the lionturtle could speak up. Instead of poo-pooing the idea of killing Ozai, it could agree that it was the most effective way to make sure that the war would end. Then, when Aang is despairing that he'd wasted all that time trying to find a different solution, the lionturtle could offer the spirit bending. But it would have to come at a cost, and it might not work the way that Aang hoped. Now Aang has to make a choice. Sacrifice something for this spiritbending ability (I'm thinking he loses his airbending, because it seems poetic) that might not have the outcome he's hoping for, or give up his pacifism- one of his few connections to his heritage- and kill Ozai. He chooses the spiritbending. Instead of the conveniently placed rock, Aang would actually have to give up his attachment Katara. I think he would be half-way there, having finally realized how little he understood her. He "loved" her because she was pretty and took care of him, but he's come to realize there's a lot more facets to her that he hasn't gotten to see because they don't fit his narrow view of her. He also understands what Guru Pathik was trying to tell him about one person not being able to replace everything Aang has lost, and he realizes how unfair to her he had been. He still loves her, but as a friend and caretaker. This will actually lead to a deeper friendship between them. Aang defeats Ozai without killing him, but now he has to deal with the loss of his airbending, which only now does he realize was a much of a connection between him and his people as his beliefs. He still has spiritbending. He can still airbend in the Avatar State, but he's effectively cut off a limb to keep his integrity. He will go the rest of his life wondering if it was worth it, especially after Ozai goes to trial and is sentenced to execution anyway. The effects of that on his children could be explored in LoK.

TL;DR I don't have a problem with Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. I just wanted to see him deal with it before the last minute. I think the show would've been better for it, and Aang would've been a more interesting character.

[thatfreshi]

"Unlucky Draw" (Uni AU p. 15)

There's finally some fluff guys!!!!!!!!!

tw - anxiety, discussion of weed

Since Halsin's little break-up escapade happened, you actually do get the chance to see Astarion later that night. As of recent, he's been throwing himself into his thesis project more and more, to the point where most of your time hanging is spent with him looking through books and asking 'do you think this sounds right?'

"You know you can take a break, right?"

"I could, you're right, but then I'd just be wasting time. And I'm not allotted much time to work on this."

The two of you are comfortably sprawled across his mattress, like teenagers at a sleepover. You roll over and shut his laptop.

"C'mon, you've been staring at that paper for like two hours."

"And what else should I do, my darling Tav? Maybe stare at the ceiling in silence? Or scroll mindlessly on my phone until I don't feel like moving anymore?"

"Ugh, no! I don't know, take a coffee break. You're probably not going to sleep anyways."

Your best friend almost looks peaceful like this, wrapped in a cozy sweater and sweatpants, always wearing long socks because he gets cold too easily. You find yourself lingering on the thought longer than normal, wishing he could feel that comfortable warmth all the time, wondering it might be like to share in it.

"Tav, are you listening? God, maybe we should just stare at the ceiling in silence."

"Sorry, just spacing out. What were you saying?"

"I was saying, how I should probably cut back on the caffeine."

"Really? Astarion Barista Ancunín, are you turning your back on your beloved espresso machine?"

"Look, I'm not happy about it, but I've been far too anxious as of late. My nerves are on fire constantly, jumping at every little noise I hear. It's irritating, to say the least."

"I thought being caffeinated was how you dealt with the insomnia though?"

"Oh it very much is, which will become a problem soon enough, but I just can't be this nervous constantly."

It's something that you've definitely noticed, how quiet and fidgety he's become recently.

"You considered smoking weed? I know Gale says it helps him zen out, especially when it comes to art stuff."

"Nope, makes me paranoid."

"Damn, unlucky draw I guess."

"You're telling me. I smoked one time back in high school, couldn't sleep for hours, kept thinking someone was out to get me or something."

You start to get lost in the peace of the moment again, the fact that you're able to talk about shit that doesn't matter, how the light from the bedside lamp hits his eyes just right...

"Are you alright? You seem, out of it."

"Sorry, just thinking about what Halsin said to me."

"I can't believe he just broke things off like that, without a reason."

You swallow hard.

"He, he said it's because he thinks you like me? And that he doesn't want to get in the way of that?"

There's silence for a moment, that you jump to fill.

"But that's not true right? We're just friends, I don't know where he would've gotten that idea from."

"Right, I don't know either... sounds like you dodged a bullet with him."

"Yeah, probably so."

God, has he always looked like this? Damn Halsin, damn all those things he said, damn Gale for even playing into it. You remind yourself that Astarion's right, that this doesn't need to get any more complicated than it already is, that he has enough on his plate.

"Now, am I allowed to go back to my thesis now? Or do I need to have more mandatory break time?"

You playfully sigh.

"I guess you can do productive things or whatever."

"Well, in that case would you like to come read what I have?"

"I'll look at it, but you have the cool narrator voice, you have to read it to be like a professional author."

He rolls his eyes, and you go to sit next to him, looking at the thousands of words he's typed at this point. Astarion starts to read it out loud, editing tiny things as he goes, forever a little perfectionist. After a while, the voice becomes too soothing, and you fall asleep there next to him, letting your head hit his shoulder.

"Tav?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you knocked out, clearly exhausted. He doesn't stop reading though, worried if he does that he'll somehow ruin the sleep he's let you stumble into. So he spends the rest of the night rereading out loud and talking to himself, occasionally asking you things that you don't answer. After many hours pass, and the wee hours of the morning arrive, along with the clock turning to say five AM, he puts his laptop aside, and asks you one final question.

"Why do you insist on pulling my heartstrings the way you do?"

And it falls on your sleeping ears, never truly getting through.

[mcuynfluffwriter]

Red - Bucky X y/n short

\\yes again. I know what the people want.// \\is this connected to the first one? Maybe🫢// \\yk what? Let’s make this a game. Try and fit together all the stories they will be out of order/released in no particular order, have fun deciphering it(if you want)//

y/n=your name, ya’ll know the drill by now- (if not it’s basic don’t worry)

warnings: injury, almost self delete but it was technically under control so don’t worry it’s not going to be a theme, shockingly enough not very much floof for this one, violence

Contains: Bucky X fem!reader, red room shtuff, fight scene because obviously. Violence.

The Red Room was revived and still has some of its widows that Yelena hasn’t found to free. The organization sees the remaining avengers/super heroes as threats so obviously. They sent some girls after them. Y/n, happens to be the one after former hydra asset James Barnes. Time to figure out which trained their soldiers best. Hydra or the Red Room.

You kept your breathing steady. This isn’t going to be hard. He shouldn’t even see it coming. You are perched on the roof of a building with a sniper trained at a window to an apartment. Any second now. Just wait until he crosses into sight. Fire the gun. Mission accomplished. You see something in the window. Off to the side. There. That was part of a face. Impossible! how would he know to be careful? You notice through the scope there is a light reflection from the scope on the wall. Damnit! Dropping the gun and standing sharply you start making your way across the roofs. You were half way there when the window was flung open and bullets were being shot at you. Skirting to the side and taking out one of your pistols, as well as your widow bites, you started returning the fire. You feel pain shoot up from one of your legs and force yourself not to yell out. Damnit again! You stumble back and can feel blood trickling from the wound. You also notice that the gunfire has stopped, it must have been obvious you had been hit. No time for that. You try to run but you end up partially limping, still going fast though. You only make it far enough away to half stumble down the fire escape into an ally o about a block away. Putting a hand to your communicator you start to speak, trying to sound as if you aren’t out of breath. “I got hit, I repeat that I am injured. I’m going to go again I just need-“ you had to cut yourself off and flinch just barley avoiding another bullet to your hand. The super soldier? That was fast. But you already had your widow’s bite on and ready. Unfortunately he avoided the blow. “Who are you?” He demanded stalking closer as you limp further away. You don’t reply, shooting again. “Alright princess, quit it.” He says coldly, hitting aside the taser part of it to the side with what appeared to be his robotic arm. You keep going, you have to. It’s the mission. Besides if he gets close enough you’ll h be able to take him down the normal way. He keeps avoiding your widow bites so you stop bothering to waste them. “Don’t make me shoot you again.” He said, giving a matter-of-fact nod to the bleeding and still painful wound. “Put your arm down, stop trying to hit me with whatever the hell you have. It is not working.” He seemed to pause, squinting in the low and bad lighting level. It looked like he had spotted the pattern on your belt. The widow symbol.

“Who hired you.” “This is my job.” “Apparently. Who wanted me dead?” “My superiors.” You respond both times sharply and without much room for more questions. That was his andswer that’s the best he gets. There was a beat of silence that followed, “You aren’t even actually in control right now, are you? I’m not talking to the real person.” He said with realization. No, that was stupid. What did he mean? Of course this was you. You were a real person why did he say it like you were some kind of extension of nothing? You carry out missions because it is your purpose. But you are forced not to dwell on that. No, no forced- you push it away yourself. At least it feels like it. And pounce forward. You had taken a small knife from a pocket while you had been shooting with the other hand and started using it in the fight. The first thing to do was obviously twist the gun out of his hand or point it away from you. Ow. Moving hurt a lot. Moving fast and using all your footwork in the fight with a bullet hole in your leg was an entirely new experience. But you could swallow the pain. Like the times you had before. Push it away. Keep going. Get the job done and oh my god his grip is annoyingly strong on the handle of this gun. You use his shoulders to brace yourself, jumping up in the same motion to use one of the trade-mark well known widow moves. The super serum wouldn’t stop suffocation so if you could just lock around his throat. He tried to throw you off and it didn’t quite work, as you managed a cut on his head before he could grab your hand sharply and hit you into the brick wall of the ally. Your ears rung loud and sharp and you had to let go. For a moment you were dazed. On the ground, not even realizing you were on the ground, blinking slowly with your gaze up. You could hear your blood roaring in your ears and your head starting to pound with pain. You could feel something wet dripping down from where you had been smashed into the wall. You see the figure of the target and try to get your head back in the game though- blinking rapidly and almost aimlessly reaching for the pistol in your holster. For some reason your hands are shaking as you push yourself back, still flat on the ground, the gun raised at the super soldier.

how disappointing. I thought out of everyone maybe you could at least do this one thing for me. A voice crackled through your earpiece and for a moment you’re dazed again, confused as to why now your pistol was pointed at you… by you. And then, for the first time since you were a little girl, you had a shining moment of yourself again. You must have been ordered to terminate yourself. The target- no, wait, this was another person. He had a name. Looked confused as to what your strategy was now but he must have caught the scared and confused expression on your face. Your hand was shaking more now. You didn’t want to do this. You wouldn’t fail they could give you another chance! You couldn’t force your hand away. You felt your eyes get wet and felt mad because of it. You shouldn’t be crying. Not in front of someone else. And not because of another order. It was just another order. The Red Room needed you to do this. You followed orders. Like you were told. This was no different, right? You didn’t even have time, because a strong hand sharply grabbed your wrist and forced the gun pointed in a different direction. The target? You could see something in his eyes this time though, something else. Something not quite pity but this time is wasn’t anger either. Like now he felt bad about what he was going to do. “They’re making me.” You don’t even realize what you had said, everything just wasn’t registering anymore. You were losing lots of blood and had hit your head, quite hard against a brick wall. You’re voice had been cracked as it said that, and quite- barely loud enough to be heard. “I can tell.” He replied, and you still hadn’t entirely registered that you had spoken to someone out of turn so for just another second you were confused. Not even registering that the two of you were still fighting actually. Your body hijacked by most of your mind and fighting to follow the order you had been given. While the actually conscious part of you felt frozen and stuck. Or. Wait no, maybe the fighting part was the conscious one? You finally manage to get back from the soldier and try to pull the trigger. But it was when nothing happened that you realized during the fight you had just backed out from he must have managed to turn the gun’s safety on. Whatever fine you could follow your orders anyway, you had to. But he caught your wrists again before you could aim the widow bites properly and pinned both of your hands against the tight ally wall, using a knee to keep you pinned as well so that you couldn’t attack. “Sorry about this.” He said, and you must have said something because that all-most-sad expression flickered behind his eyes again but you didn’t have any time for that. Because everything went dark.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Could Danny Beat Superman(the answer may surprise you)

Short answer? Maybe

The tricky part of this is measuring their abilities, and that’s not always easy. One of the trickiest parts is finding actual numbers, especially for Superman. Superman’s strength varies depending on both who is writing him and how much yellow sunlight he’s absorbed. 

Danny Phantom

Strength: can lift between 12-40 tons. Potentially due to gravity nullification, so unclear how physically strong he actually is. Likely weaker in that case. Speed: 112 miles per hour, potentially more. Phantom Planet throws a curveball measuring his final speed showing him flying around the entire planet, Flight/Gravity Nullification/manipulation: His flight is due to how gravity effects him. He can manipulate his own gravity to change the direction it works on him allowing him to walk up walls and on ceilings, or just nullify it entirely on himself and potentially others Invisibility Ecto blasts(officially called Ghost Rays) Ecto Constructs(shield, it’s his shield) Intangibility Cryokinesis: Ice powers Ecto Stinger: Electric attack used twice in the show Ghostly Wail: Sonic attack that rapidly depletes his energy Enhanced healing Enhanced Durability and resistance to ghost abilities Overshadowing: Possession 

Superman

Strength: Can lift 2 Billion tons Speed: Light speed or faster, is slower than the flash but comparable Flight Super Hearing Super Breath: Can freeze, put out fires, and generate hurricane level winds with his breath Enhanced Durability: It takes incredible physical force to actually damage him Heat Vision Solar Flare: A full body emission of the same energy as his heat vision. Leaves him weak for 24 hours in a yellow sun environment until he recharges X ray vision: He can see through things Super Intelect: He’s super smart Super Ventriloquism: I don’t think this one is canon anymore but I just wanted people to know this was an actual ability he had. Enhanced Healing

Okay, so they have some comparable abilities but it’s clear in sheer strength and speed, Superman has the distinct advantage, moving faster and hitting harder. Danny’s intangibility gives him an edge but it’s shown to be something he consciously controls since physical attacks have been shown to affect him. Simply put, you either need to move faster than he can react or just catch him off guard. Given Superman’s speed, it’s entirely possible

The real question is how much damage Danny can actually do with his punch. When it comes to blows, superman can take harder hits than Danny can and brush them off. The exception being magic, which bypasses his natural resistance. So, we must ask ourselves, does Danny count as magic? In his own show, We are given a more scientific explanation of his ghost powers. Ectoplasm has combined with his DNA indicating it’s potentially not magical, his abilities are physiologically based. However, various ghosts have been shown to have supernatural abilities, with Desiree able to warp reality, and magic being shown to exist in universe. This one is up for interpretation, so Superman may or may not feel Danny’s attacks.

overshadowing would be the cleanest way for Danny to stop Superman, though Danny doesn’t use the ability much. Superman has been shown to have been possessed by Deadman at one point, though that calls into question whether possessing Superman really counts as winning. It’s also shown that people can force a ghost out of them with enough willpower, so eventually Superman may be able to expel Danny.

The greatest Advantage Danny has is: Superman holds back A LOT. Watch Superman’s cardboard world speech that he gives Darksied. Everything is fragile compared to him and his strength, and he doesn’t want to break things. Danny is pretty breakable compared to Superman. His durability isn’t anywhere near the same level. Superman is going to try and not kill him, so he’s going to be holding back a lot.

Conclusion: In a straight fight Superman could likely win. Danny could pull it off if his attacks count as magic, but he’d have to catch Superman off guard and attack fast ang hard to knock him out before Superman could defend aka What Captain Marvel did to knock superman out. 

So Danny could win potentially, but it would be a lot closer of a fight than a lot of people depict in this crossover. Superman would probably win though

Is Danny stronger than Superman? Not really. He’s comparable to Captain Marvel, who is a powerhouse, but Superman is pretty OP, and this isn’t even counting his Silver age abilities 

Could the tides be turned with Kryptonite? Well, duh. Tides could also be turned by Superman having ghost hunting equipment. I’m just going off what they canonically have access to already. This also means that I had to ignore the power boost having the ring of rage and the crown of fire could give Danny if he had them, despite how popular Ghost King AU is in this crossover. He didn’t have it in canon so I couldn’t count it.

if you think I’m wrong on something let me know

[starlightdelrey]

axe throwing - a.v + h.m

spoilers for heart break high season one and two !!!!!

anthony vaughn x harper mclean

request: hi !! could you do a sweet first date type fic for ant and harper ?? i dont really see a lot of love for them so far but I AM OBSESSED! I was thinking maybe they'd go axe throwing for a first date since harper mentioned she wanted to go. ant is lowkey scared he's going to get a limb cut off then overcompensates w the bravado just bc he can see how much she's enjoying herself. u dont have to do this at all obviously but it was just some thoughts i had popping up

in which two of the hartley kids finally get a moment of peace together (or ant thinks he's gonna lose his arm)

lowercase intended

hbh masterlist + main masterlist

cw: mentions of past trauma, mostly fluff, end of season 2, i basically made up my own timeline to make it work, ive never been to axe throwing so i made some stuff up, not proofread !!!!

---

the hartley high kids were stuck in a sort of limbo - since the school had burn down not even two weeks before the term break, the school board had decided everybody deserved an extended break to help 'unpack their trauma'. almost everyone thought it was a load of bullshit but couldn't fight having almost a month off school.

harper had been struggling, although she'd never admit it to anyone. it was unfair - every time she almost healed from one experience, a brand new one happened. darren had recently been going through a housewife phase, and in one cooking attempt, they'd accidentally set off the fire alarm. it caused the blonde to shut down for almost 24 hours, the experience of being locked in a smoke-filled projection room taking over her thoughts.

ant had accidentally been a lurker for quite a few of these mini events - like witnessing chook stare down harper at the housewarming party. when woodsy had called for harper and amerie during the fire, his whole body had been filled with a sense of dread (although he'd never tell harper how he'd fought to try and get to her).

the two decided to keep everything between them as light as possible, which had led to today's activity being set up.

harper dashed out of her shared home with darren and ca$h (their fake moans and tips for safe sex following her) and started up her borrowed car from robert.

when she drove up to ants place, he was sat outside, waiting already. harper couldn't fight the grin that stretched across her face as he wandered over to the passenger side. anthony had taken the concept of axe throwing and lumberjacks very seriously, and had dressed for the part - a plaid button up tossed, un-buttoned, over a cropped white tank top and a pair of baggy jeans.

he got in and immediately leant forward to kiss the blonde, and she pulled away with a smirk. "what's with the gay lumberjack cosplay?"

"i'm breaking lumberjack stereotypes, harps. be happy for me." but he glanced at her with a lazy grin and she shook her head, trying not to get distracted.

as they drove, ant insisted on being on aux. this meant that when spider called him, the audio was put on speaker.

"heya, spider."

"ant, you'll never-"

"hey spider!" harper piped up chirpily, and spiders whole demeanour over the phone changed.

"fuck off, harper."

"wait until i tell missy what you just said, dickhead. don't think i won't steal your girl." harper grinned as she said it, and ant turned to her quickly.

"hey!"

"you wish, harps."

---

"i actually don't think we need to throw axes," ant stood stiffly, his gloves shoved in his pocket and axe in one hand.

harper, who was in the middle of putting her safety glasses on, paused and stared. "what?"

"i just like- don't feel like losing an arm today. ya' know?" he looked at her hopefully, and harper raised a brow.

"don't worry, baby. i'll protect you."

the nickname flicked a switch in his mind, and immediately, ant was back to his usual antics. "no need, m'lady. i will be protecting you."

glasses on, harper turned to stick her tongue out at him - only to be met with the flash of a camera. "ew, ant. i look proper munted with these on. delete that."

he didn't respond, and to be fair, she didn't really care all that much anyways. the two walked forward with their safety gear fully on, prepared to let out some of their anger.

at first, they mess around a bit, until harper finally gets her axe to actually hit the target. from then on, it's a full-on war - they're making up mini competitions, tallying points, and getting into arguments.

halfway through, harper's got 12,368 points while ant has -12.

"we should totally turn our competition into a drinking game, harps. it would be so fun."

"and dangerous." harper braces herself and launches her axe at the target. "ant, we suck balls right now - imagine what it'd be like if everyone was drunk?"

"oh. ohhhhhhhh! yeah, i didn't even think of that."

"of course you didn't, babe."

ant grabs harper and yanks her closer to him, hugging her. some employee chides them for being dangerous.

"you're so pretty, harper." he's looking down at her, grinning, harpers cheeks are pink.

"you're not so bad yourself, anthony." her hand wraps around the back of his neck and pulls him closer.

---

"i cannot believe that we seriously got kicked out for making out!" harper exclaims in the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

"it was totally worth it." ant's still dazed, and he fumbles plugging his phone in.

it goes silent except for the frank ocean playing in the background, until ants phone buzzes with a notification. on instinct, harper's eyes flick to the screen - and her heart jolts.

his lock screen is a recent picture - one of harper, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. her tongues poking out and her hairs a little wild, but she looks happy.

"ant! is that the picture you just took of me?"

"of course it is. can't get it out of my head, it's seriously driving me crazy." he looks down at the picture, a slight blush on his face.

"you just wait until i get a new picture of you, vaughn."

---

[meetmyothersouls]

hey! could you do a Jonah imagine, where he and the reader are house mates (like in flat mates) and the reader is sick of being single (me rn) and wants to take some pics for her hinge account and she asks Jonah for help and Jonah just confessing his love for her

Ooooh I really love this idea!

Hinge

Warnings: online dating, taking photos, not being happy with the way you look, fluff

You feel silly as you slip on one of your best outfits, one that makes you feel confident and sexy. Black leggings and a strappy tank top that you'd normally reserve for date night...the only problem was you'd not had an actual date in years...let alone a reason to wear a sexy outfit. But it was time to change that, after years of vowing to stay away from dating sites, you were finally going to break it.

Your Hinge account was already all set up. You already registered, answered all the annoying questions about yourself and what you look for in a man. The only thing left was to upload the dreaded profile picture. You decided that taking the picture in your bedroom felt too intimate and decided to take it in the living room. You roommate, Jonah, wasn't due home from work until 8pm, so you wouldn't have to deal with a firing squad of questions, but you had to work fast.

You set up your iPhone's self-timer, propped it up on the entertainment center, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room. Before you had a chance to pose, the flash went off, capturing you in the most unflattering stance and lighting possible.

"Ughhh, fuck!" You growled as you looked at the picture. "Why can't I be one of those effortlessly pretty Instagram girls."

"Why would you wanna be one of those? They're all plastic and photoshop," the voice of your roommate sounded behind you.

You jumped, turned around and hid your phone behind your back, instantly earning an arched, inquisitive eyebrow from Jonah. "Watcha doin?" He asked, not bothering to hide the grin that told he knew exactly what you were doing.

You thought about lying, hiding your embarrassment from your insanely attractive roommate who obviously could not imagine what it's like to being in your position: single, depressed and sexually frustrated. But then, an idea popped into your head.

"I'm taking pictures for my Hinge account."

"Is that so?" Jonah asked, his face contorting into a mixture of confusion and humor. He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed himself a glass of water before walking back over to you. "I've gotta say, y/n, I've seen you take exactly...zero pictures of yourself since we've been living together. And I didn't take you for the online dating type."

"I'm just sick of being single!" You groaned, plopping back down on the couch.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jonah said, taking a seat next to you.

You smiled to yourself, a perfect opening for you to ask him for help. "Maybe you can help me!"

"I'd love to help you," he responded quickly.

"Okay, perfect!" You slapped your phone against his chest. "I need you to take some photos of me and be brutally honest with me as you take them. Like tell me if they suck or not, okay?"

Jonah sighed, "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

"Great!" You said, jumping up off the couch in excitement.

You posed for Jonah, and he gave you some simple tips and instructions on how to take a really good picture. By the time it was over you had several to decent ones to choose from.

"What about this one?" You asked Jonah as you scrolled through your gallery next to him on the couch.

"I think they're all good."

"Yeah, but like do I look pretty?"

"I always think you look pretty," Jonah said in a small voice.

You tried not to let the compliment get to you; he's just saying that because you're his roommate.

"Yeah, but like-okay-so out of all these photos which one would you look at and say, 'yeah I'd date her'?"

Jonah took another deep breath. "Honestly?"

You looked at Jonah expectantly.

"All of them." He didn't look at you when he said it. He wasn't even looking at your phone or the pictures anymore. His eyes were down on his lap watching his hands as he cracked his knuckles nervously. "I think you're amazing. I think you're the most astounding woman I've ever seen. And I definitely don't think you need to be on Hinge to find someone who wants to be with you. And...I mean I guess if you do feel that way then I haven't really been doing a good job at hinting that I like you."

"Y-you? Like me?"

Jonah made eye contact with you now, his blue ones bouncing between both of yours. You'd never thought of dating Jonah because...well you never let yourself. He was one of those 'in your dreams' kind of guys, it took you two weeks to even feel comfortable sitting next to him on the sofa, but maybe that was because you'd had feelings for him all along. "I would have come out and said it but I wasn't sure if you felt the same way and I didn't want to make it weird...since you know...we live together...and I guess if you don't like me then I've just ruined it all but-"

"No! No! I definitely like you, I guess I just wasn't expecting you to like me...not like that," you laughed nervously.

Jonah scooted closer to you on the couch. "So, do we just try this out?" He put his arm around you and pulled you into his side. "Or do I need to make a Hinge account as well and match with you first?"

"No," you laughed, "I don't think there's a need for Hinge or pictures anymore."

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @anonyymoouussssss @nonsensical-nonsence

✨Let me know if you want to be added to my Jonah taglist✨

[lxve-and-lxght]

why me?

eddie munson/ reader

warnings: blood, death, vampire!eddie, vampire!reader, light flirting, will add smut if requested

a/n: i literally haven’t written fanfic in six years. so plsss don’t judge this shit to harshly lmao. but lemme know if y’all want a second part to this causeee i probably won’t write one unless someone actually wants more

part.2

you’d found him there, simply put; bleeding to death. in unequivocal pain, you’d thought, but when you knelt down to feel him he was cold, you pushed his eyelid open, but his eye was black like tar, as if the blood in his veins had turned to sludge.

“well shit.” you huffed, even you couldn’t save someone who was already rotting from the inside out. so you held his hand in yours, listening carefully. and it sounded like a rushing river. the final bit of blood his heart struggled to get out. you smirked, taking his wrist and biting into it. then his arm again, finally stopping just above his shoulder.

you sat back on your knees and watched intently till you saw his eyebrow twitch and you knew he was experiencing unparalleled torture. you remembered how excruciating it was, but he was two bites away from being hamburger meat. you figured he could take it.

you opened his eye again and his iris flooded with blood. you squealed in excitement.

-

eddie didn’t see much of an afterlife, he remembered seeing his young sheeply companion shedding tears for him before it’d gone black. so much for heaven and hell, he’d thought, until he felt it. it was like someone had set him on fire, like his cells were being ripped apart and stitched back together over and over. maybe he was in hell. but he opened his eyes, he was still alive? he stared up at the red and black clouds that were painted in the sky.

-

you waited and waited till finally his eyes opened on their own and he struggled to take in air. “relax, it’s okay.” you giggled, brushing his unruly hair away from his eyes. “you don’t need to do that.” a voice finally registering in his ears. “you don’t need to try so hard, your lungs don’t need air anymore.”

“who the hell are you?” he rasped, pushing your hand from his face.

“i’m your way out of here, sweet face.” you stood, offering him your hand. eddie hesitated. “c’mon i won’t bite you, again at least…” he took it.

-

hawkins was in the turmoil, the “earthquake” had destroyed most of the town which of course didn’t bother you, but you were running out of meal options with everyone leaving the damned place. you sauntered into town after escaping victor’s little hideaway and eddie followed closely behind you.

“what’d you do to me?” he asked, inspecting the bites on his arms in the moonlight.

“were you always so brainless?” you laughed balancing along the edge of the sidewalk, “i saved you, you got chewed to shit by the bats and almost died for real. which i totally could’ve let happen by the way.”

“so why didn’t you?” eddie muttered, still following you passed the remains of the palace arcade. he thought back fondly to the first time wayne dropped him off there after his dad had relapsed. just a scrawny kid with a buzzed head and no friends. a freak.

“cause i thought it’d be more fun to keep you.” you shrugged, “besides i saw your little curly haired friend crying next to you before he limped back to the real world.”

“dustin?” he asked, his red eyes darting back to yours.

“if you say so,” you giggled. “call me a softy, but i figured maybe you weren’t ready to go.” eddie just nodded silently. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, his throat burned and you watched whatever words he had die in his chest. “i’m y/n by the way.” you said looking back at him. “c’mon sweet face, let’s go grab a bite.”

-

in the aftermath of hawkins falling the fuck apart, eddie went back to his trailer. everyone else had disappeared and it was torn to shit, but it was his home and god knew that if you’d had a home to return to your first night you sure as hell would have.

you killed some poor dickhead from the national guard and dragged it back to him. you wanted him to drink without the struggle of the hunt. you recalled the first time you killed and how messy you’d been. it was just easier to save him from that as well.

“do you think anyone’s looking for me?” eddie asked, viscera falling down his face. “i was wanted for murder before i… well fucking died.”

“and here i was thinking you didn’t have it in you to kill.” you giggled while wiping the blood off his lips with your thumb.

“i didn’t kill her.” he spat back. “i ran away.”

touchy subject.

“no.” you said, taking a seat on the stained mattress in the living room. “if i’m being honest, i think you’re the least of their worries now. but even if they were, i'm not gonna let them touch you.”

eddie flopped down next to you, sinking into the bed and wiping the remains of corporal dickhead off his face.

“so why me?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“why you?” you asked back.

“why save me? you gave immortality to possibly the worst fucking person ever.” he chuckled, running his hands through his already fucked up hair.

“cause i liked your pretty face.” you replied, straddling his lap. “and i was getting lonely.”

“s-so what? i’m supposed to be your pet?”

“i didn’t say that.” you whispered, running your fingers down his chest, “do you wanna be my pet?”

[ramsywasalittlelamb]

there is still a light that shines on me

Damian Wayne-Centric agere fic, Regressor!Damian, Caregiver!Dick Grayson with a minor mention of Caregiver!Alfred Pennyworth! Sickfic, 980 Words! photos found on pinterest!

Warnings: Fainting, no emetophobia, if I need to add anymore let me know!!

Day 2, Comics Agere Week, Mid-fight Regression/Sickfic

Title from Let It Be - The Beatles

The back of Damian’s eyes burned with a fire-like pain, instinctively making him hiss as he shuts his eyes in protection against the blinding white snow outside his window.

Great. To add onto the fact that he had been feeling fuzzy since yesterday's patrol, now he’s dealing with the aftermath from pushing himself too hard.

He wants to whine, shout with a tantrum, because underneath his skin is buzzing with a need to move, but the fatigue and achy-ness that overloads his body just makes him wince at the thought of being loud and thrashing around. Plus, he’s too old to be throwing fits like that.

Whether he’d admit it or not, he really just wants someone around right now. Even if they laid quietly next to him, which sounded more than ideal right now, he wouldn’t mind, just some kind of cuddle buddy to keep him warm and provide company.

Grayson would be perfect for that.

…

He’s just describing what happens when he regresses.

That explains the fuzziness.

When he shifts to move off the bed, a whimper escapes his closed mouth, forgetting about the fact that his muscles are screaming in agony when he moves an inch.

Once his body settles back into the plush mattress, he begins to think of how he can alert someone for help without moving or shouting, which admittedly, seemed very hard at the moment.

No. He can make it out of bed to go find someone to alert them that he did not feel adequate enough to go on patrol tonight, and he can get medicine for himself for the ever-growing headache that pounds on his skull.

After some extra effort, he props himself up to sit on the edge of his bed, placing his feet on the floor and pushing himself off the bed. The room spins, and suddenly the floor is growing very close to his face at an exceedingly fast rate.

The pitter-patter sound of footsteps urges him awake, the whole world is shaking and twirling around him. He blinks and familiar blue-red Superman logo socks flood his vision, a hand places itself on his back, and then his forehead, the fabric of his hoodie clings to his sweaty back, resulting in a grimace at the sensation.

He blinks again and suddenly he’s being lifted up. He wants to fight, he really does, but it just feels so tiring, and the pair of arms that carry him are so soft and warm. Judging by how gently they hold him too, they aren’t a threat.

He looks around and they’re in the hallway, the large and expensive portraits that hang on the walls seem so much more grand than usual. A rumbling against his arm makes him look over to the source and— Oh. It’s Grayson. He melts further into the arms, nudging his face against the shoulder his cheek rests on, Dick’s sleep shirts are always so cuddly.

“—d. Buddy, I’m gonna need you to stay awake just a little longer.” Dick says, his voice soft as ever, tinged with worry along with his face. Damian makes a noise of confirmation but no further, since the irritation in his throat makes itself known. Maybe he can just close his eyes until they actually need him.

He whines when he feels Dick let go of him, placing him on something cold. He immediately reaches out his sore arms to grab onto Dick, who shushes him as he attempts to pry his hands off of Dick’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just have to go get the thermometer while Alfred gets you some medicine, bud.” Dick tries to reassure him, but all he can think is that Dick is trying to leave him, and he’s never gonna come back if Damian doesn’t even try to keep him.

“Oh, oh no— Sweetheart, don’t cry.” And suddenly Dick is no longer trying to take Damian’s hands off of him, but instead takes him in his arms again, cupping his cheek and wiping away the tears that fell with the thoughts of Dick leaving him.

Damian whines, curling himself up into a ball though his body protests at the movement, tucking his face into the soft fabric of Dick’s shirt. Dick begins brushing his fingers through his hair, gently detangling all the knots that formed overnight and pushing it away from his sweat lined forehead.

He feels himself get shifted in Dick’s embrace, his head being nearly tucked underneath Dick’s chin— and something is prodding at his lips. He opens his blurry eyes, blinking away the fuzzy edges to see Dick looking down at him with a reassuring smile, holding a medicine cup to his lips, while Alfred makes tea on the tray table he’s brought up.

He takes the medicine after a few moments to register what was happening, grimacing at the potent taste and syrup texture, but as always, Alfred swoops in to save the day with a fresh cup of tea— Cardamom, he notes with a smile forming,— and he takes a sip, then a few more, the tea erasing the artificial grape flavor from his mouth.

As he closes his eyes once again, Dick hums in contentment at the sight of Damian’s smile settling on his face, leaning against the headboard of the bed and pulling a blanket over the two of them. He can hear Alfred shuffling around and placing things on the bedside table, before a pacifier gets slotted into his mouth.

He snuggles into Dick’s embrace and the warm blanket with a hum in contentment himself, a kiss being pressed to his forehead as he rhythmically sucks on the pacifier, a familiar plush object being placed in his hands. He takes a deep breath, smiling softer at the scent of cedar wood, rose, and home as he dozes off for the umpteenth time that day.

[maskedinfinate]

hehe um ok ! since you asked so politely

this is um. corrin. an oc for that undertale post-neutral run au i posted about a few days back. They're a captain of a place called the Riverbed, my own fanmade area which is sorta above waterfall. It's the highest point of the underground and is basically where all the water FALLS from. into. waterfall. wow. amazing. Corrin wants to act intimidating he wants to act like a bigger "threat" than he already kind of is, because hes had to experience a lot of people treating him like he didnt know a thing about what he was talking about when he was CLEARLY experienced, but wasnt listened to because he looked the youngest, and young = stupid apparently. So he tends to hide his face, because he really just. hates that. Corrin is also a type of water monster that can mainly only survive in waterfall, in places like hotland (or i dunno the DUNES) he is at risk of evapporating very quickly and straight up DYING. btw :3 i'll add kind of a lighting round of facts abt them that arent really mega important but if you want more to chew on then like ok here (THIS IS "do you like the colour of the sky?" LEVEL LONG READ MORE AT YOUR OWN RISK)

I'll start from when he was a babey up until like present time in my au i guess

Corrin was born in the riverbed area, while its not very populated due to having more water than land, he and his family thrived. His mother used to be a captain too, but she quit sailing to raise him. He got incredibly attached to all the stories she told about her experiences with sailing, and wanted to do just that when he grew up.

When he was a teen he needed to earn enough money to be a personal student for a well trained sailor, because there arent many schools in the underground to begin with so education regarding specific things like sailing, art, etc, have to be exercised by a personal trainer.

To get that money for about a year he worked at a daycare in snowdin, which was far from home but worth it. Working with vastly different kids who were learning all about their enviornment taught Corrin how to properly handle a large group of people all at once in a calm and content manner.

Once he had enough money he got to study. woohoo! then he got to sail! yippee! he got himself a crew, a good boat, and everything.

Corrin and his crew's main goal for sailing is to help other monsters. Sometimes monsters can get stuck in waterfall, or even get lost, maybe even be trapped under the riverbeds waves, and thats where they swoop in to help. They actually managed to help a few royal guards who were in danger at some point, which garnered them a bit more attention. Corrin was gifted a harpoon by undyne as thanks for he and his crews effort into helping the royal guard, and he uses said harpoon to fire at shit with a harpoon gun :3 ok so. this is the part where corrin meets star ok. get ready ig.

Sometimes, monsters from that little home area of waterfall get lost and need a ride back with the boat. But sailing there is of course safer, but takes a long time due to a bunch of twists and turns needing to be taken. So corrin and their crew thought of a plan. They'd scope out a sort of shortcut to get to that home area faster so monsters wouldnt have to wait so long. As they were testing their theory the waters were extremely uncooperative, but Corrin got reckless. He took a wrong turn and they ended up crashing and he went overboard. Corrin sorta. floated away. half drowning, half not, just kinda out of it. Since the riverbed is the highest point of the underground, he ended up falling! many times! and much like a certain lil human guy ended up crashing into one of the mines in the dunes. The dunes, being a very hot area, is NOT suited at all for corrin. He can die there if going without water for at most 3 days. So corrin seeked refuge and for help to get back to waterfall or for someone to just. idk. give him water. Unfortunately he was attacked ! uh oh! From his looks alone corrin does NOT at ALL look like hes from the dunes and is an easy target, yknow. Corrin fought back though as he does have a weapon, a fucking harpoon gun, but as he did so he was caught in the act at the worst second. in rolls the fuckin feisty five, despite knowing how serious the situation is they were like "nah lets keep this up for the roleplay" "we might die" "no" sooooo corrin got locked up in jail! He was able to explain his situation about how hes a water monster and will die within days if hes kept in that cell, so they come up with a compromise. If corrin helps them out around the wild east, THEY can help him get back to waterfall AND give him water ! And yea. then he and star get mega gay and homosexual. wow. corrin actually forms a bit of a rivalry between the five because he doesnt enjoy being bossed around, but he kind of has to or he might die yknow. dont feel like giving all the juicy details but eventually he and star get a bit close and yeeeaaaaaa but then they help corrin back to waterfall, but he and star stay in touch. through letters ! Corrin keeps every letter he gets from star btw in a special little box. because he likes stars awful handwriting

Eventually though when frisk rolls around, and kills asgore (canon to my au) Corrin is fucking. Furious. He has lost all hope. He as well as entire monsterkind has lost their freedom to a CHILD. Blinded by rage he begins taking out all his anger out on humanity, which, to Star, who KNEW clover and LOVED them like family because of how incredibly kind they were, takes great offense to that. Corrin and Star have to temporarily take a break from eachother so that Corrin can work on his issues regarding humanity, having to realize frisk didnt have much of a choice. It was either them or asgore. And they're a child. Who might not be able to process or understand the weight they carried on their shoulders.

Once Corrin comes to terms with that, and calms down, he and Star are back together and are happy :3

Though, then Palila enters !!! (another oc for the au, the player char) and. Corrin is hesitant. Palila sneaked onto their ship to be able to go from one place to another much quicker, but in turn, Corrin has no idea how to handle them. Corrin doesnt know what to do, all hes ever learnt was to fight or get someone off of the ship immediately if possible. But Palila is a child. A HUMAN child. He doesnt want to fight them, not after all the time he spent collecting himself and trying to berid of all his hatred for humanity and what they've done to monsters, but he's forced into a situation where he HAS to fight because someone is TRESSPASSING on their property. He first sends Palila to Time-out (those daycare instincts kicking in) but once they escape he cant really do anything but fight.

Once hes spared though, he makes a compromise with Palila too. They can stay on his ship whenever they need to and wherever they want to go (like sorta the riverperson) but they must ask or inform someone on deck before doing so. and now hes a dad :3 So yeah thats basically all of it in like a very bitcrushed summary i didnt want this to get too long but whoops. If you're reading this, you're cool. If you read EVERYTHING? you're insane, love that for you. thank you.