#I just think this would be a stupidly funny way to start a fix it fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kpforpresident · 1 year

Note

Have you seen the TikTok challenge where a couple asks their partner to touch their favorite part on them? What would plant shop owner Lexa and Clarke pick? You can have both romantic and sexy

😏 sounds like a fun game to play when someone's blindfolded, imo.

///

Lexa is innocently sitting in bed reading with a cup of tea, candles flickering around their room, legs tucked up under her as she hums absently under her breath. She hears Clarke stumble in, the door slamming as keys skitter across the counter, feet padding through their small apartment as Hurricane Clarke makes landing.

Dazed blue eyes land on Lexa, whose cup of citrus tea hovers uncertainly at her lips as she scans over her girlfriend, a perfect eyebrow arched uncertainly over bright green eyes.

"Clarke, what...?"

The cup of tea is plucked gently from her hands onto the wooden bedside table, the hardcover book landing somewhere at the foot of the bed. Clarke yanks Lexa breathlessly down from where she is reclining on several pillows, their noses almost touching as she prowls her way up Lexa's body, settling herself on Lexa's slim hips.

"I thought you were just having one drink with Raven?" Lexa's voice cracks uncertainly as it sounds out from somewhere mid-bed, her eyes firmly fixed to where Clarke's fitted blue t-shirt gapes slightly to reveal perfect cleavage.

"I was," Clarke purrs as she rolls her hips slightly, eyes fluttering shut when Lexa's hands automatically fly up to both steady her and grasp her hips, long fingers flexing into Clarke's hipbones as her head lolls back.

"But then Rae started talking about this tik tok trend where partners pick their favorite body part of each other's, and it got me thinking, daydreaming..." Clarke trails off meaningfully as hungry blue eyes zone in onto Lexa's lips, two pairs of eyelids shutting as Clarke brushes the softest series of whiskey soaked kisses to Lexa's lips.

Lexa feels something clench in her lower belly as she tries to crane her neck up to deep the scorching kiss, grumbling slightly when Clarke pulls away. Panting slightly, Clarke fastens her fingers around Lexa's slim wrists and dragging them softly above Lexa's head, effectively restraining her.

Lexa squirms slightly as Clarke's eyes dart over her body, soft sleep shorts riding over prominent hipbones, her threadbare Polis Gym shirt riding up to expose golden swaths of skin.

"I love your...eyes," Lexa blurts out stupidly, dazedly as she tries to keep her gaze above Clarke's collarbones, failing miserably as Clarke sits back with a smirk to strip off her shirt, the white cotton flying across the room to dangle off of their clothes hamper.

"Really," Clarke states coolly, the fire in her eyes contradicting her calm demeanor. She leans back slightly on Lexa's hips, balancing her hands on either side of Lexa's thighs as she thrusts her chest out slightly, blue bra contrasting prettily with the paleness of her skin and the pink flush that was creeping across her chest. Clarke reaches forward to grasp Lexa's wrist, bringing a slender hand close as she mindlessly plays with Lexa's fingers, sliding her ring finger into the wet suction of her mouth before releasing it with a pop, eyes gleaming at the shiver that overtakes Lexa at the action.

"Funny you say that, love, because I absolutely was thinking that your fingers were my favorite body part of yours."

Clarke flattens out on Lexa's body, bracing herself on her forearms to hover above Lexa as she noses a wet, sucking kiss under Lexa's sharp jawline, releasing the skin with a pop when Lexa involuntarily reaches up to grasp Clarke's arms, heart beating a wild tattoo under her breastbone.

Soft lips skim across Lexa's collarbones, the barest hint of teeth peaking out whenever Lexa whimpers particularly loudly.

"I love a lot of things about them," comes the silky whisper from where Clarke has slid down to slide two cool hands under Lexa's shirt, palming an affectionate hand across Lexa's ribs as she pushes the t-shirt higher, up over Lexa's chest, over her head to dangle around her elbows, restricting her movement slightly. A strangled whine escapes Lexa's lips as her hands flail slightly, her movements calming as Clarke inches her way back up to lace her fingers through Lexa's after stripping out of her own bra.

"I love when you use them to make me feel good, when you hit the exact spot that makes my legs shake," Clarke murmurs into Lexa's chest as she stamps purpling bruises across heaving skin, surveying her handiwork with pride as her gaze flicks back to Lexa's face, checking in silently. Lexa is already too far gone to care, mouth open slightly, eyes glassy as she focuses intently on Clarke's kiss-swollen lips.

"I love watching you write at work, tapping a finger against your lip when you talk with customers or tie ribbons, knowing what they feel like, that you're all mine," Clarke says quietly, brushing her nose across Lexa's sweetly to stamp a kiss on the tip in contrast to her heat-inducing words.

Lexa scrambles for her remaining brain cells as she senses that Clarke is waiting for a response, eyes fixed expectantly on Lexa's flushed face. With more grace than she knew she possessed, Lexa rips the t-shirt off of the crook of her elbows, hooking her legs through Clarke's to roll them smoothly.

Lexa preens slightly at Clarke's semi-turned on, semi shocked expression. Grabbing the black hair-tie that lives around her wrist, Lexa quickly ties back her hair as Clarke watches on with a smoldering gaze, the electric blue causing Lexa's heart to stutter unevenly in her chest. Lexa slides her hands down from where they had landed around Clarke's shoulders, placing one over the thrumming of Clarke's heart, the other hand brushing a sweeping thumb over a rapidly hardening nipple.

"You had your teasing," Lexa says quietly, gaining confidence from the way that Clarke is gazing at her like she'd love nothing more than to devour Lexa whole.

"It's my turn."

#Plant Shop AU #clexa #I will get back to a semi more wholesome ask after this lol #but we've been doing more general ~vibes~ so I figured it was time y'all deserved a snippet #thanks anon

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questioningwriter · 9 months

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inspired by this prompt

(It was supposed to be a one-shot, I swear. But it was longer than anticipated, so probably going to make a second part to this one. I have got to start doing more one-shots, or else I'm going to overdo it.)

(Also: I have actual followers!!!!! I didn't expect that!!!!!!! This one is for you guys!!!)

Edit: Fixed the links!

Hostage

Part 2

TW: drug use, Kidnapping, hostage

Villain woke slowly. Everything seemed hazy, like it happened in a dream.

But it was not a dream, no matter how much he wished it was.

Villain fought to sit up. He were laying on a couch in a room that looked to be an office. An office that looked strangely familiar.

"Oh, you're awake." Villain looked over to see Hero at his desk. "I was wondering when the drug would wear off."

"W-what?" Villain asked. "W-where am I? Why am I here?"

"You're in my office. The one at the Agency." Hero said, standing from the desk to approach his nemesis. "And I'm supposed to hold you hostage until Supervillain is caught."

Villain gaped up at their nemesis. He'd been tricked. Tricked and manipulated into letting down his guard, then abducted to be a chess piece in Superhero's stupid game.

"Why?" Villain asked. "Why trick me?"

"Because you're important to Supervillain." Hero said, matter-of-factly. "You're his right hand, his confidant. Without you, the whole operation goes under. Then, he can be defeated."

Villain felt sick. "You fucking monster." He hissed. "Supervillain is too smart for you. He'll defeat you."

Hero laughed. "He can try." The crimefighter pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "But we have you. What can he do?"

He cuffed Villain to the couch, then left the room. Villain felt tears sting his eyes. He'd been a fucking fool to believe the Hero cared about him, that the mighty hero had felt anything for a lowly criminal like him.

"Why?" Villain whispered. "Why can't Superhero just leave us alone."

Supervillain paced. "Where is Villain?" He growled. "He was supposed to meet me here."

"Er." One of his henchman stepped forward. "It's off topic, but don't kill me. I just got a text from our mole in the hero agency."

"Well?" Supervillain prompted when his henchman hesitated. "What did they say?"

"They said that Superhero plans to move against you tonight." He admitted, "That's not all. He's bringing the heavy hitters."

Supervillain scoffed. "That's impossible." He said. "He knows it's too dangerous to strike against me. Why would he pull such a risky move?"

"Ah." Henchman shifted. "They said... that Superhero is absolutely convinced that he's taken something of value to you."

This time, Supervillain outright laughed. "What an idiot." He said. "What kind of leverage could he have over me? There's nothing he could take."

Laughter. The Supervillain turned around to find Superhero bent over, laughing his ass off.

"What's so funny?" Supervillain asked. "I'm serious, what are you laughing at?"

"Oh, wow." Superhero stood up eyes still dancing with mirth. "You almost had me there. Wow, that's the biggest piece of bullshit I've ever heard from you. And that's saying something, since I've heard a lot of bullshit from you."

"Superhero." Supervillain glared. "What are you talking about? I don't understand. I really don't know how what I said was bullshit."

"I think you and I both know what I mean." Superhero replied. "Tell, me Supervillain, where's your oh so precious little Villain?"

Villain. God-fucking-damnit. "Where is he." Supervillain growled. "What did you do with him?"

"Nothing." Superhero said. "He's completely uninjured. Now, whether he stays that way is up to you,"

Supervillain's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening."

"Turn yourself in." Superhero looked oh-so-smug. Supervillain kind of wanted to punch him in his stupidly perfect face. "Surrender yourself, and I will personally ensure no one will ever hurt your pretty little Spitfire."

Supervillain flinched at the mocking tone throwing the nickname in his face. That-that was personal, only uttered when the two were alone, intertwined in each others arms. Whispered between kisses, gasped out as Villain shot snarky comebacks at Hero-

Wait. Hero. Hero had to be the one who kidnapped Villain. He was the only other person who Villain ever came close to letting his guard down with. Villain had told him how the two had a friendship blossoming between them. Villain must have been taken by him.

But what could Supervillain do about that now? Sure, now he knew that Villain had been kidnapped by Hero, but that didn't tell him where Villain was. He'd need time to figure it out. Time that would need to be borrowed.

So, Supervillain reached into his belt, and pulled out a switch. But not just any switch. The Switch. "Initiate plan A-23." He ordered his henchman. "Now. Thirty second count."

The men scrambled as he turned back to the hero's. Superhero looked confused. "What does that mean?" He asked.

"It means-" Supervillain pressed The Button on The Switch. The whole building seemed to hum.

"-burn in hell, you bastard." Supervillain said as the world went up in flames.

#writing #creative writing #hero x villain #hero x villain community #evil hero #supervillain x villain

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phanfictioncatalogue · 8 months

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In Progress Chaptered Fics (8) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: January 23rd, 2024

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

In progress as of 09/10/2023

A Modern-Day Meet Cute (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), peachrayne

Summary: Finding someone to date in the 21st century was hard. You’d think the internet would have helped things along, but Phil wasn’t completely sold on the idea of a dating app. Until he downloaded one and met Dan.

anywhere but here (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: Dan’s a first year; he just appeared, one day, loud in one of Phil’s discussion groups. He has interesting things to say, talks like he has every right to be there. He’s also stupidly hot and funny and confident in a way that Phil definitely wasn’t at 19; how was Phil supposed to stop himself from instantly crushing on him?

Broke, Gay and New in Town (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan Howell was in dire need for a change - he hated his job and his life and he just felt stuck. His grandfather's letter was a blessing that came with an incredible gift: A farm. Dan had no idea how to run a farm but he was willing to give it a try.

He arrived in Stardew Valley with few expectations but even so, he could never have imagined he would encounter magic, otherworldly creatures, corporate conspiracies, so many queer villagers, a secret destiny and right at the centre of it all the love of his life.

Capeacetic (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: Just a man, his lighthouse, and the ridiculous tourist he told not to come.

cleo (ao3) - bloodyscarab

Summary: i'm the ruler of the world,

better catch it all on camera.

phil wants to start drag, and dan wants a break from it.

cleo by shygirl

Et in Arcadia Ego (ao3) - fallentales

Summary: A man whose life is consumed by its own ending, and another desperately trying to escape the same descent. When haunted pasts collide with inevitable futures, what do they have left of themselves? And just how different really are the roles these two play?

Home for Christmas 2 (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan's leaving his newfound home away from home with the Lesters (and Phil) for the rude awakening of Christmas with his actual family.

i'm losing myself in you (and you, and you) (ao3) - sunflowerwitches (orphan_account)

Summary: the fic where dan is aspec and is scared of relationships because he isnt sure where he fits and phil doesn't understand why dan thinks anyone would be upset by that if it means they get to call dan their boyfriend.

Of wedding venues and cliffside views (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Phil brings a plus one to a family wedding - his fiancé

Poker Face (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: Dan and Phil meet in Vegas and have an incredibly intimate night together. Two years later, they're professional poker players who discover that they're both entered in the same major tournament. Dan, out of fear, has closed himself off to other people -- and refuses to let Phil into his mind or heart again.

Unfortunately for him, there's a very fine line between a poker face and a sexually-charged gaze, and he may not be able to resist.

"she's so in love with all the things i hate most about myself" (ao3) - pressedflowerspressedkisses

Summary: Daniel Howell falls in love with his best friend and tries to fix everything about himself.

Phil Lester falls in love with his best friend and wants him to see how beautiful he already is.

Sweeter Than Lollipops (ao3) - sweetheartphan

Summary: Dan’s father is tired of him always behaving like a child. He wants him to finally grow up. He wants Dan to get a job before heading to university in the fall to get a sense of the real world. Phil, a friend of his father’s, offers Dan to work for him as his assistant. As time goes on, Dan can’t help but cling to Phil. He provides him gentleness and comfort, while still holding authority. Like a daddy should.

take me to church (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan dresses up as a sexy nun for Halloween on the American leg of his tour. Phil is at home. But don’t worry, Dan tells him all about his evening.

The Clock Keeps Ticking (ao3) - tellsfromhale

Summary: Dan has spent over a decade growing comfortable with himself. Finally, he can live his truth, and he can do it with Phil at his side. For the first time, he's excited about what the future holds.

Then, one day, he finds himself suddenly back inside his childhood bedroom a decade in the past, and getting to that future with Phil becomes a lot more difficult.

tonight these emails will deliver you the words that i can't say (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: You've Got Mail!

Tops Only (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan’s favourite actor just opened a new bar right by the street near his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. One problem though, it was for Tops only, and Dan wasn’t one.

twin flames (ao3) - lovelylcster

Summary: A twin flame is an intense soul connection, sometimes called a "mirror soul," thought to be a person's other half. It's based on the idea that sometimes one soul gets split into two bodies. One of the main characteristics of a twin flame relationship is that it will be both challenging and healing.

Opposites Dan Howell and Phil Lester get paired up at random to complete a thorough English report about each other.

uncertain smile (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: He pats both hands around his head, fixing his overgrown quiff possessively. “It’s where I store my… my…”

“Flamboyance?” Farah deadpans, looking up at Phil with her cheek squished against Jackie’s knee.

“Secrets!” Phil shouts a little too loud, his voice carrying over the rooftops and rolling into high laughter as the girls absolutely lose it and Phil clamps his hands over his mouth.

What Dan and Phil Text Each Other (2022) (ao3) - BLUEGREYKIM

Summary: Dan's made a life here, in the house, with Phil. It's good, he reckons. They're good together, have formed a psychic connection over 13 years. He thinks it's pretty nice to have someone he can stare off into the sunset with and think, "Yeah, we're pretty weird."

(alternatively, the context behind dan and phil's 2022 texts)

#phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #chaptered #inprogresschaptered #inprogresschaptered masterlist

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marshmellowtea · 1 year

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willy clarke all prompts for the character ask thing?

YES MY BOY MY BABY BOY

there's a couple questions on here that were also on the last ask game i did with him so prepare for some repeats lmao. also prepare for a lot of rambling because jfc i could not shut up about him </3

1. Favorite food?

y’know favorite food headcanons are stupidly hard for me for no reason other than me overthinking things too hard lol so i’m just gonna steal some headcanons from the discord server and say that he really likes salty snacks like chips and pretzels, he’ll eat whole bags of them in one sitting if he’s not paying attention. i also think he has a soft spot for apples and vanilla ice cream (the latter occasionally with sprinkles, if he’s feeling feisty or regressed lmao).

2. Morning or night person?

i'm gonna lean toward night person, i can see him staying up way too late and finding peace in being up at midnight when the world feels still…..buuut i can also see a case for him being a morning person, like he's used to getting up early, so he tends to wake up before the sunrise most days....this question is weirdly hard to answer for him tbh i really can see him going either way hfgkljKLDF

3. Favorite color

idk if he has a specific fave but i get the vibe that he really likes soft colors, shades that are easy on the eyes. i'm particularly thinking about pastel/really gentle shades of blues, purples, greens and grays, buuut i was also talking to someone in the server (waves at purple if you're seeing this hi <3) about him liking the color pink and that's also a cute headcanon i hold close to my heart hglkdsajf :’)

4. Headcanon(s)?

once again gonna do five here!

i assign this headcanon to all my faves but.....transfem genderfluid will lives in my head and my heart rent free. william can have a little gender okay, as a treat <3

the poor kid is absolutely touch starved, after his mom dies he doesn't really have anyone around to just give him a damn hug (and i have uh. thoughts about the nature of touch in their relationship too but we're gonna put that aside for now ghlkdsajf). the first time tanya holds him he almost starts crying on her shoulder, it's a little overwhelming for him :')

he's autistic! everyone and their mother has this headcanon ik but that's only because it's a good one lmao. i also think he has cptsd (i have THOUGHTS about his childhood okay) and suffers from periods of depression because.....yeah. yeah

i mostly have this headcanon because projection and also i think it's kinda funny hgkljKLDSF but i really like the idea that to the surprise of fuckin everyone, will really likes intense music like industrial or noise music. he'll put it on his headphones and aggressively stim to it, it just scratches a part of his brain for some reason ghdslkjf

basing this off my brother's boyfriend here lol sorry man but while he wears a lot of dark colors, he doesn't actually like wearing them all the time, lmao. he'd like to wear other colors, he just buys a lot of gray and black clothes (when he does have the money to buy clothes at least) because they're comfortable and they match all the other dark clothes he doesn't enjoy wearing, ghkdjf. i'd like to think that in a fix-it au his friends would help him develop a wardrobe that's both comfortable AND more interesting/fun for him to wear <3

5. Sexuality?

asexual! whether his romantic attraction is bi/panromantic, aromantic, or lesbian is kind up in the air for me and/or depends on the au though ghlkadsjf

6. OTP?

i am so fucking weak for willtanya it's not even funny. i am in hell over them <3

7. NOTP?

as stated before i am not big on romantic willmartha.....they're cute and all but hglkdsjf. they just don't do it for me i like them more as friends RIP

8. One way I relate to them

socially awkward neurodivergents. he doesn't know how to talk to people and neither do i goddammit ghkdalsfjKJSD

9. Are they in my top 10?

YES god yes. he's easily top ten in characters in this game, and while my top ten characters of all time tends to shift around depending on my hyperfixations, currently he's definitely up there he's just. waugh. i adore him :")

10. Favorite thing about character?

he's literally just. genuinely a sweet kid. he makes some bad decisions, sure, but i swear basically every interaction we see the real him have with other people is just him being the kindest little guy and i'm hgngnfd ;_; he's fucking baby and he deserves the w o r l d

11. Do they roast their marshmallows until they’re black, or golden brown?

i think he tries to get them golden brown but he almost always drops them in the fire on accident instead RIP

12. Secret special talent?

not roasting marshmallows that's for sure LMAO uhh i think he's actually a fairly good creative writer, both prose and poetry. i also think he's really good with animals as well (something something farmwork in the lawrence fraternity), and he's a surprisingly good singer, though he doesn't sing often. and yes i did put three here i couldn't decide between them ghlkasdfjlk

13. Do they sleep with socks on?

depends on how cold it is, i can see him going either way

14. Are they the type that takes games to seriously?

not at all, no. i think he's mostly just happy to be included most of the time ahh :')

15. What are they like when they’re happy?

canonically he kinda struggles to express himself so i don’t think he’s too different from how he is normally, buuuut i do think he finds himself smiling absently and stimming more often when he’s genuinely happy and content 🥺

16. Excited?

STIMMY BOY!! think hands flapping, bouncing in place, pacing around the room, he just can't keep still and it's so cute 😭

17. Sad?

i think he gets really quiet, tends to shut down and collapse in on himself. i think it can be hard to tell for people who don’t know him well to tell when he’s sad or upset, but with people he’s close to or trusts they tend to pick up on it pretty quickly because he’s a bit clingier/seeks out physical affection with them more than he normally does in addition to him being quieter than usual okay that last bit is more self indulgent than canon based but i think it’s really cute okay ;_;

18. Angry?

mmm this one's a bit difficult but honestly i can like. see him not really being sure what to do with himself when he's angry. i think he gets a bit terse with people, and maybe even lashing out if he's pushed hard enough, but mostly i just see him just bottling it up and stewing in it, trying not to really let himself feel it, if that makes sense. i don't think he gets angry very often, but when he does, i feel like he gets really uncomfortable with himself over it, y'know? i do have some reasoning behind this headcanon but this post is long enough as it is and idk if i can really articulate it properly so ghlkdsjf

#THANK YOU for the ask and sorry about the wait ghlkdasjf hopefully it was worth it #i certainly wrote a lot for most of these prompts huh. too much even #i just have a llot of thoughts about him okay. he's. he's so. <3 #(also willy clarke is still killing me HLKDSJFKL)#who's lila #who's lila?#william clarke #marshy gets asks #despairingethics #ask to tag

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somebodysumbuddy · 2 years

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Monstertober, Day 24

Following @snejkha ‘s Monstertober prompt list.

Day 24: Witch, d20: Potion

You didn’t have any words. In front of you a duck stood giving you the most comprehensible look of disbelief that you’ve ever received from a bird. You closed your mouth, unaware that your jaw had literally dropped. You might be more out of depth than you had originally thought. You tried to reign in your expression, hoping it would provide some comfort duck who looked frozen in shock.

You towards the table at your left. It looked like an apothecary had sneezed out ingredients all over the surface. It was supposed to be a simple potion to guard against swimmers ear. Your friend, Elise, had mentioned a trip to the witch on the end of town and you had stupidly puffed out your chest and claimed it to be unnecessary, that you could whip up the same potion at no cost to her. You were a witch you had reminded her... even though you were both aware you focused on enchantments and not tonics and brews.

Still. You had finished your lessons. Every witch had an arsenal of ingredients. This one specifically was so elementary you still had the recipe memorized. Or so you had thought.

Folding your hands together, you squatted down to be closer to the same level as your friend. You kept your voice soft and tranquil. If you panicked, she would panic.

“Well, Elise, something seems have gone slightly wrong.” She opened her beak, an angry gust of air where you were sure she had intended to yell. She tried again, uncoordinated and bumbling as she tried to make sense of her new vocal cords. She danced in place with agitation. Finally, a bleat left her. Angry, loud and vaguely threatening. Quickly I repeated and repeated until a proper quack left her. Automatically you smiled at her quick accomplishment before a new level of ire in her squawk wiped the smile clean off your face.

“Yes, yes, no, I know its not funny, I am so so very sorry. It’s not a funny smile, you just are so smart, you picked that up so quick. Sorry, I’m sorry. Something went wrong, or rather I did something wrong. I’m so sorry, I can fix this, I think. I think I can fix this.” You rambled on as you went over to your work table. Elise would have cut you off my now, without her coherent interruption you continued on as you stared down at your ingredients. What do you do? Where do you start? You dug your hands into your hair, falling quiet. You took a deep breath in and slowly released it.

“Okay. Okay. I need to think. What do I do?” You looked towards Elise, she’d gone quiet as well. Her feathers were visibly ruffled but you couldn’t make out the exact expression in her black beady eyes. She caught you looking and noisily smacked her little webbed feet against the floor. You snapped back to the ingredient. “Right, I’ll focus.” You bit your tongue to keep from narrating to yourself. Elise didn’t need to know how you would bumble your way thought this.

With a calm head you thought of your options. First and foremost, you absolutely could not cross physical magic with abstract magic. This had to be fixed, or reversed, by another potion. Crossing them would decimate the original subject. That was the cardinal rule everyone is taught since childhood. Second, for another witch to be able to undo another’s actions they had to add enough of their own presence onto the subject. This was not such an ordeal if you knew what the original process had been. Those who were dedicated to unraveling and removing obscure and disguised curses were abundantly rich and perpetually fatigued.

Getting the help of another witch would be a last resort.

For the moment you thought through the whole process, trying to identify where you went wrong. You pulled out an old trunk from your storage area and dug out one of your first reference books. You hoped you simple had gotten the recipe wrong, that would be an easy fix. Elise stood beside you as you followed the recipe down with your finger. You grimaced. looking down to her. More flipper slaps on the floor prompted you to explain. “I did have the recipe correct... so that means it’s human error. Not a technical mistake.” She gave you a soft quack, sounding as dismayed as you felt.

“Would you like a tub of water?” You only offered in a tentative effort to console her. Her reaction was vicious, wings fluttering as she hissed at you. She really had pick up the whole duck thing quite fast.

Back at your worktable you checked each jar’s label and then identifying each ingredient inside. All six jars were correct. You lined them up next to the basket of eggs. You calibrated your scale, it was working flawlessly. There was nothing left to do but stare at the mortar and pestle you had used to grind and combine the ingredients. It was coated in the paste you formed with the egg white. Maybe if you brought it in with you the witch could tell you what had gone wrong.

You were resigned, you would go and ask for help. Elise had already spent the whole day as a duck. Hopefully it was simple enough of a mistake that it wouldn’t take so long to solve. Your stomach clenched as you explained everything you’d looked through, and what the best course of action would be, to your semiaquatic friend.

You were in the kitchen, filing the sink with water for Elise, when your boyfriend came in. He gave a laugh as he came over to greet you with a kiss. “Are we going to farm our own eggs?”

You frowned at his joke, holding up as the ball of guilt turned in your stomach. “It’s Elise, I tried to make a potion for her and I messed it up and I couldn’t fix it.” Elise squawked in agreement. You sighed before putting her down in the sink. You watched as she immediately began to effortlessly swim in tight circles. With a more somber expression he began rubbing at your back comfortingly with his hand.

“Oh. I’m sorry Elise, I made the joke because of the eggs.” At this second mention of the eggs you pulled back to look at him.

“The eggs?”

“Yes, the duck eggs,” He gestured to where the basket usually sat on your counter.

“The duck eggs. Duck eggs! They were duck eggs!” Frantically you pulled Elise out of the water, sprinting down the stairs. Her startled honking just barley drowning out your thrilled cries.

#monstertober #monstober #writing prompt #wrtblr #prompt list #witch #potion #duck #brought to you by #i will finish even if they decline in legibility #im sorry bestie #also brought to you by i refuse to believe people cn taste the difference between duck and chicken eggs

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dildoteamtaskforce · 2 years

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So, I just finished played through the entire Deus Ex franchise and I still can't recommend it enough. The best part is that it sells stupidly cheap whenever Steam has a sale going. That said, the Embracer Group is saying that they want sequels and remakes. Sequels are fine. We could use another adventure to tie Jensen's stories to JC Denton. Remakes, however, are VERY dangerous territories. The original is widely considered, by many, to be their favorite game of all time. I agree. Why fix what isn't broken? Why mess with perfection? Well, it isn't perfect. Time has started to show the cracks.

The game is beloved for it's hammy voice acting and immersive gameplay. For the time it was made, it did a FANTASTIC job illustrating that you're playing about 5 minutes before the end of the world. That said, the game is sparse nowadays. Especially compared to the prequels. Mods like GMDX and Revision have done their share to modernize it, but there's only so much they can do. A remake of the first Deus Ex would have to retain the general layout of the original game. That's non-negotiable. The real challenge would be working with modernizing augmentations and skills. The first game used XP, to be allocated at the player's discretion, to upgrade different skills. Lockpicking, hacking, pistols, ect. Augs were upgraded with upgrade canisters. The prequels did away with skill points to just focus on augs. XP would build up to new Praxis kits to upgrade augs. Besides upgrading them that way, you could always purchase Praxis kits or find them in the world. Still, they can’t just sacrifice aspects like lockpicks and multitools. Some skills are redundant like weapons abilities. Others, like technical skills, seem logical to keep. Still, that doesn’t cover how your augs could grow naturally as you gain XP.

If they do remake the original, I'd love to see more shout outs to the prequels. I always liked to think that the free clinic in Hell's Kitchen was a repurposed LIMB clinic. Mankind Divided did a great job in showing that the golden age was over. They can keep it going. Touching on how sparse the original looks, Human Revolution and Mankind Divided spoiled plenty of people with their "clutter porn" environments, too. To see the rundown, warzone streets of New York again with that design outlook would be great. If they kept the special dialogue between NPCs, it’d be perfect. Every time you returned to New York, it looked worse. It really illustrated that the United States was a third-world country that was on the brink of dying.

Some shout outs to earlier games would be welcome too. The prequels did a lot to change aesthetically to resemble the original. Moreover, they had a lot of small details that mentioned organizations or individuals in the original game. Signs for Tai Yong Medical or an e-mail in one of the triad bases talking about the Dvali. Stuff like that. The prequels also built a VERY large expanded universe. It’d be good to tie up those loose ends by the time of the original game. Of course, the remake would have to keep a basis in the newer mechanics. Cover, takedowns, bigger environments. If they keep the original layouts, they'd still have to expand upon them. There's no way to fuck up improving the character models. After the prequels, mech augs look almost silly with light blue metal jutting over clothing. If they give us Gunther Hermann with black augs and his trademark red eyes... hoo boy. At the very least, they could make JC and Paul Denton look like 20-somethings instead of 40-somethings.

They’d have to touch up the voice acting. That’s contentious because the bad voice acting is loved by fans of the original. “JC Denton. In da fresh.” Funny as that may be, it couldn’t work nowadays. Now, Jay Anthony Franke still does occasional VO work so he might return to voice JC and Paul again. That said, if JC and Paul ARE clones of Adam Jensen, Elias Toufexis could always lend his voice. All in all, if they stay true to the basics of making an immersive sim and the basics of their own Deus Ex prequels, a remake of the original should work. As for Invisible War, there's no changes they could make that wouldn't make the game instantaneously better. They could honestly spare to rewrite entire chunks of Invisible War. There's no satisfying ending. Not really. The gameplay was built to be less of an immersive sim/RPG and more of a corridor shooter with RPG elements, built for consoles. There's potential, but it's under SO MANY layers of crap.

#Victor. Shut up about your favorite game franchise of all time.

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lifewiththelulus · 7 months

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Hazel in an attempt to fix what she did goes all out,wearing her pin and sweatband from vapor and everything from her parents to show him and everyone thats shes proud and she loves these things made for her. He scoffs as a knee jerk reaction until it hits him and her all at once how big a target she just made herself as other kids start to notice

What if all the jerks in her class plan on setting a trap or something for her?

She didnt tell anyone she was doing it to surprise him. Her friends almost definitely would have stopped her or at least been there to help but plume got the fire flu and Mimi stayed home with them to take care of him. Kindlin is on the other side of the school completely unaware leaving Vapor the only witness

What if they plan on dumping water on her, not knowing she could immediately disappear when her body comes in contact with water. Vapor pushes her out of the way but takes a lot of damage.

Fear grips his heart and any remnant of anger is forgotten in that moment. If she was fully submerged..well he couldnt bring himself to think it. His mind was racing in what if,unaware his body was moving without him and all he could remember next was hitting the ground, students gasping, and shock in his sisters eyes.

Hazel could vaguely register someone calling for a teacher, but the image seared into her mind was her little brother half gone. A thousand thoughts swarmed her but the biggest was why. Why would they do this? Why would he do this when he obviously hated her? After moments of being unable to move on either side, a fire teacher came through boiling the water enough to put him back in one piece and taking him to the nurse. The students who'd pulled this prank,well some looked apologetic,clearly not realizing what they could have done.

While Vapor is being checked out of the nurse's office he hears Hazel crying outside of it. So he go's out to show he's ok but it doesn't stop her tears.

He sits against the wall waiting for their parents to arrive."hey there Hazey" she sniffles and turns up slightly at the use of her childhood nickname. They sit in the floor in silence for what feels like ages the only sound being Hazels barely muffled crying. He's trying to find the right words. Is he still mad? It all feels like small potatoes when he could have lost her. Can he even pretend to cold when her heart is so clearly breaking?

Vapor: "The nurse told me though guys who did this are on cafeteria cleaning duty for the rest of the year, So I doubt they'll try to pull anything anytime soon."

He tried to show her a small smile, but her head was still covered by her arms. Hazel: Why? Vapor: Huh? Hazel: Why did you push me out of the way? Vapor: …Why are you even asking that?

"don't you hate me now?" It feels wrong coming out of her mouth and he immediately wants to say of course not like it's obvious. But if course she would think that he's been brushing her off for weeks and argh he feels like such a dunk. "Do you remember when we were little? Some of the kids thought it would be funny to try to blow me away or break my stuff. And who was the one who stupidly ran out and started puffing up her chest to scare em off huh?" She chuffed slightly "it didn't work, they just beat me up too, ashka and ashfa just stopped bringing us to that park". He let a smug grin rise as her own face brightened. "Ok ok maybe so but my point is, you did that without a second thought because that's who you are. And today I think I realized that's who I am because of you".

A few seconds of silence floated by before Vapor spoke again. Vapor: And… You know I never hated you right? A little annoyed and unreasonably angry, but never hated. …And I’m sorry I held a grudge for so long that you thought I did. Hazel’s mouth hung open and fresh tears started to run down her cheeks. Vapor: How about we agree to stop being stupid and not let what other people say or do keep us from being cool with each other?

Unable to form a coherent sentence she nodded vigorously practically melting into the floor from crying. She buried herself in his hoodie, something she'd promise not to do anymore after his attitude change. He was sure people were watching but he could scarcely bring himself to care for once. "I'm so sorry vapor, they never should have meant more to me than you, I'm the one who's supposed to look out for you but I let you down. I'm sorry"

On instinct, he felt a bit awkward when she buried herself in his hoodie, but immediately relaxed and hugged her. "Me too, it really shouldn't have taken a life-or-death situation for me to realize that too." His phone buzzed. Ember and Wade were waiting for them outside.

"ready to face the music?" "Ha if the bucket didn't do it, ashfa tears definitely will". They chuckled but stopped just outside the doors. "I haven't seen you laugh in a long time… Well I don't think I've seen you do much of anything in a long time. I missed you". "I've been here the whole time dummy" he said with a watery laugh, knowing exactly how she felt

“Yeah yeah, missed you too… Hazey.”

#lost in a haze~ 💜#cool guys don’t cry 🤍

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depressed-sock · 1 year

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Space for Me Somewhere

So this is an original work I've been working on for a few months that takes parts of some sci-fi and fantasy from other fandoms that I really love. I have a pretty good idea of where I want it to go with this and I'm hoping to use this as a project of sitting down, writing, and getting it done within a certain time frame. So I'll be attempting to update this fic every Tuesday on A03.

Currently there’s three chapters up on a03

Chapter 2: We had to start somewhere

...

5 Years Later

Wolfe Long looks through the scope of his rifle, ignoring the pelting rain that sticks strands of his black and gray hair to his face. At this rate, he feels like the rain might drown him even being perched as high as he is in a tree. Considering how badly this mission is going he’s not putting any odds against it either. Not when Brakon has already gotten caught and Veil has gone MIA to ‘bring in more fire power’.

Wolfe would like to think that at some point in these last five years, he’d gotten used to this. The truth, however, is that he’s still learning to keep up with his partners and their… eccentric behaviors.

Some small part of him finds it familiar in a funny way. There should be this chaos in his life. Someone always causing some kind of trouble he has to fix.

He shakes his head, focusing his attention back through the scope of his rifle as he tries to get eyes on Brakon. Who is currently standing defenseless in the open field of the compound they were all supposed to be investigating together. Brakon’s hands are held up high in surrender, his dark skin glowing iridescent under the mixture of his captor's lights and the rain that pours down on him. No sign that he’s going to defend himself or attack the people holding guns directed at him.

Wolfe had hoped after Brakon’s impromptu newfound popularity of retaking his father’s house he’d at least stop trying to put himself in danger. At the very least, he should have gained the ability to listen to Wolfe and make himself less of a target. But does he listen to Wolfe? No. No, he doesn’t.

To be fair he doesn’t listen to Veil either. Especially when he gets something stupidly heroic stuck in his head.

“Veil please tell me you’ve found what you were looking for,” Wolfe murmurs into his comms. Shifting his aim towards the merc closest to Brakon. With some hope and a prayer to the mother of stars maybe he can buy time for Brakon to defend himself. Maybe even give him enough time to figure out a way to get himself out of this situation.

Put some of that natural Cascadian magic to use and pull some tricks out of thin air. Maybe light a few of the mercs on fire with some of those magic flames that don’t go out in the rain. He can already feel the power strumming through the song in his head. The building of energy is a crescendo just short of a climax.

Brakon’s holding back but Wolfe can’t figure out exactly why yet. There’s something there. Something that whispers caution and safety and fear. He sighs, reluctantly readjusting his scope. He’s missing something important. Brakon wouldn’t pull a stunt like this unless there was a reason.

He starts looking over the scene again. Forested area, surrounding what was supposed to be an empty compound. Except it had been crawling with mercs and the missing equipment they’d been hired to find. Currently, a group of ten mercs surround Brakon on all sides except at his back, most of them keeping their distance except for one who seems to be talking to Brakon.

Presumably their leader.

Then there’s the main building directly behind Brakon, the one Brakon had confirmed had the missing equipment before he went radio silent. Which he had done even before the mercs showed up. For some reason- His train of thought cuts off as movement in the window catches Wolfe’s eye.

Unfortunately, he now has a suddenly clear understanding as a small curious face peeks out from the window before it’s quickly pulled back and away. Hidden out of sight just before anyone else can notice that there are people inside the building, at least one child. This day just can’t get any fucking better. First, the rain and now bleeding heart Brakon Nova Howl is all that stands between these people and a bunch of angry, armed mercs.

“Veil we’ve got Civs in the building,” he hisses into his comns and finally Veil responds back.

They hiss a string of curses his translator can’t quite pick up on and then they add on, “I’m almost there.”

“Hurry, Brakon’s trying to be a hero again.”

There’s a broken bit of static from the comns he automatically knows is a long drawn-out sigh. “Our song-bound is just so much trouble for us isn’t he?”

Wolfe chuckles quietly as he watches Brakon through his scope. Brakon’s fingers twitch, starlit eyes narrowing as he looks straight ahead. Good confirmation that Brakon only turned off his mic and didn’t entirely turn off his whole fucking comns unit again.

“Good to know you can at least hear us Brakon. I’d say something like, ‘Next time give us a heads-up before you do something stupid.’ But since you always pull shit like this I figure that’d be useless.” Wolfe switches targets, aiming for the ones closest to the building, “Since this is a rescue mission now, I’m covering the building. Veil how long before arrival?”

“I’m nearing your position at top speed, expect me in 30 beats.” As they say it a drum beat gets added to the song, slowly growing louder in the back of his head.

“I hear you,” Wolfe confirms, letting the songs in his head twine together, building a beat that’s a promise of what’s to come. He waits.

At 25 he takes a breath in. Holds it. Presses his finger against the trigger.

The beat hits 30 just as the roaring engine of a sky car becomes unmistakable despite the pouring rain. He breathes out and fires the gun, taking down his target just as the sky car crashes into the farthest back of the group sending those still standing into a panic. Wolfe breathes in. Reloads, aims, breathes out, fires. A rhythm that is so familiar it’s an easy trance to fall into.

Especially when Veil kicks off the door and all seven feet of them step out into the rain. Their grey skin is a canvas for colorful tattoos that immediately draw people’s eyes to their four arms. Which currently brandish a bladed staff that they easily wield, spinning it to cut through the mercs in front of them like butter. Wolfe narrows his eyes, he’s pretty damn sure that’s not their normal staff.

Before he can ask, his eyes catch Brakon moving on the defensive and Wolfe curses under his breath. Brakon’s eyes flash as his hands move quickly. Symbols form in the air in front of him with a murmured breath of words, before he flings his hand out and sets more chaos loose on the field. The merc nearest to him bursting into flames.

Wolfe grins as he takes out another merc. “Was that one just for me Brakon?”

Brackon’s comns finally come to life, and the first thing Wolfe hears is his breathless laugh that sings through Wolfe’s head. “Could feel the shape of fire coming from you our precious song, thought you might like that.”

“It’s fantastic. Now please use it on more people so we can end this.”

Just a normal day all things considered. One that finishes when Wolfe puts a final bullet through the last merc’s head. None of them are left standing. Wolfe sighs, sitting up and rolling his shoulders before deconstructing his rifle into something smaller and more manageable for up-close combat. Time to find out exactly what Brakon found.

He doesn’t bother to pace himself as he jumps from the tree, his gear protecting him from the fall before he then makes his way into the compound. Making a beeline directly to where Veil and Brakon stand. Both of them are as soaked through as he is. “What’s going on?”

Veil shakes their head, and Brakon taps his comn as he narrows his eyes at Wolfe who immediately nods back and turns his own comn off. No extra listeners in this conversation then.

“I found Workers,” Brakon’s lips twist into an unpleasant frown. “They’re the missing equipment.”

“Ah, fuck,” Wolfe sighs, wiping a hand down his face before shaking off the excess water. “Indentured or enslaved?”

“Indentured,” Veil replies unhappily looking at the building. “Meaning there’s nothing we can currently do for them.”

“Do they want to go back?” Wolfe asks, shifting uneasily. He hates these kinds of jobs. They all specifically avoid these kinds of jobs because Wolfe hates them. He can feel Brakon's anger simmering, promising retribution on their contract holder who’d withheld these details.

"They said yes, but it’s obviously because they have to,” Brakon replies with a shrug. His agitation is strong enough in the song that it’s starting to grate on each of their nerves. He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment until the song that Wolfe is so familiar with is halted in its tracks.

Wolfe shifts uneasily but he understands why Brakon’s shut himself off. Wolfe is still learning, he can’t block either of them like they can him. Not yet at least, so it’s up to them to protect him from the brunt of their stronger emotions. He hates that he’s the weak link in their bond and they both know it. He hates that even more.

Veil watches him carefully, their eyes blinking out of sync in order to keep an eye on him without missing a beat. “We’ll handle this if you want to go secure the air car. Make sure I didn’t do too much damage to it.” The words are soft, carefully picked. Giving him an excuse that’ll also keep him busy.

He takes it, giving them a grateful nod with thinned lips. He doesn’t like this. Something about this mission feels off but he can’t put his finger on what or why. Turning on his heel he ignores the people looking out the window at them. It’s for the best.

Wolfe Long is not a person who can help them anyway.

…

It’s hours before they arrive back home. All of them soaked through and shivering. Exhaustion pulling them straight to their separate rooms at first. One of the first things Wolfe had learned from this relationship is that having a private space just for yourself to decompress in is something of a must. Especially when you can almost always feel your other halfs taking up space in your head. He’s never truly alone but his own space gives him enough of a breather that it helps him reset.

Wolfe slips off his jacket, wincing as it hits the floor with a wet slap. Then he just sighs, exhausted and tired. For a second he contemplates just dropping on the bed and falling asleep in wet clothes. A wave of disapproval and amusement finds its way into the song causing him to laugh. Before he finishes those final steps to the shower. Shucking off the rest of his clothes and stepping under the warm blast of water for much longer than necessary.

Stars he remembers just a few years ago when they only had the one shower and it took a good ten minutes for it to even get lukewarm. Things are changing. Everything around him is changing.

Yet he still feels stuck, stagnant, and held back by what he’s lacking. The memories were supposed to come back. Not all of them but at least some of them. Brought back by familiar things. The only problem is that nothing on this planet has ever felt familiar.

Sure he can identify about a dozen different types of weapons, can figure out how to kill someone with just a needle, can plan an escape route, and drive an air car far better than Veil ever could. The skills are there, the knowledge is there too. But none of the context. How does he know any of this? How did it apply to whatever life he used to live?

He would never change the fact that because of what happened he met his partners but at the end of the day he wants answers. Answers that might put him on even ground with them or at least make him feel like it. He hates that he’s still making up for lost time even if his partners would never hold it against him.

When he finally pulls himself away from the spray of the water he feels like he’s got a bit more life back in him. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his hips he steps out to Veil sitting on his bed, frowning down at the tablet in one of their hands. He raises an eyebrow at them and they shake their head, tossing the tablet onto the bed. “Nothing important.” They reply with a sigh.

“Sure,” he comments, walking past them to his dresser to pull out a fresh set of clothes. “Brakon already yelling at people?”

“I’m honestly impressed by his control of our bond. Can’t feel a thing even though I could certainly hear him yelling through the walls earlier,” they say back with a snort. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear him from here.”

Wolfe just shakes his head, dropping the towel and pulling on a pair of sweats. Ignoring Veils appreciative hum. “You know him. If he doesn’t want me to know something he’ll make sure I don’t.”

Veil frowns when he turns back to them, holding out one of their hands which he takes. They rub a thumb over his knuckles. “He doesn’t want you to hurt.”

“I know.”

They give him a look, “You should speak with him if his silence on these matters bothers you.”

Wolfe sighs, leaning his forehead against theirs. “I know.” He closes his eyes. “Just not tonight.”

They hum again. Their song soft and wrapping around his with ease. He wonders now and again how they actually feel the bond. There is a song for all of them. They all hear it but it brings with it different experiences. Wolfe feels it, the pounding beats that bring surges of emotions he can’t always quite explain.

Veil had once told him it is more often smell than sound for them. Like a delicious course meal during time spent together. The smell of rain and broken plants when one of them is sad. Scents that bring forth memories of their own emotions.

Brakon hears them and not just the song. Actual words and thoughts put into his head. He might even know both of their deepest darkest secrets but he’s never said a word. Because he worries about hurting them, because he’s afraid of overstepping boundaries. Which leads to him hiding things from both of them.

Wolfe groans, “We really are going to need to talk to him.”

“Yes. Our song-bound is so much trouble.” Words Veil has repeated numerous times over the years. In response to both Wolfe and Brakon going off doing things neither of them should.

Wolfe laughs, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “He is. Let’s go steal him away from his yelling and go to bed. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Veil grins, standing up to their full height, towering over him. “I keep telling him you’re the smart one in this relationship.”

Wolfe grins back. Maybe one day he’ll actually believe that but for now he just wants to sleep. Safe in the arms of his song-bound.

#Original Work #original writing #space opera #sci fi mixed with fantasy #my writing #sock-writes #writer on tumblr

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myautisticboyswag · 1 year

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he used to edit my writing for me. i wasn’t really any good at it, but it didn’t matter. i didn’t have to be good around him. we just had fun doing it together. i only ever really started because of him. we read something stupid, and i told him that it was stupid, and he’d asked me if i thought i could do any better. and then obviously i couldn’t just take that, so i tried as a joke in that stupid way i did, not actually taking it seriously because i was scared of actually trying and then it being shit. then i showed him, and he told me it was even more garbage than my regular garbage, or something like that. and he just couldn’t help himself, didn’t even ask, just told me “i’m going to edit this.” and he did, and then it was actually something good. he didn’t change it to be something it wasn’t, it was still goofy and over-dramatic and an absolute joke, but he made it better. fixed the grammar, made the sentences flow better, all that shit. polished it up real nice, so you could focus on the actual funny parts and not the unintentionally bad parts. and he didn’t say a single positive thing about it that first time, but he told me that if i ever wrote anything else then i should send it to him, and he’d edit it for me again. and that made me almost stupidly happy, because it meant that he enjoyed it enough to want to do it again. and somewhere along the line i think i started actually trying, even though i would never admit it. it was really nice, the two of us creating something together.

#i figure since this is a kin blog i might as well use it to actually start writing down anything i remember #instead of just hoping i don’t forget it again lol #dont interact with this it’s embarrassing as all hell. ew emotions or whatever yknow.#davecore #memories?#i guess i should tag them so i can find them again easier #instead of endlessly scrolling through tagged reblogs whenever i try to look for one again

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sobsicles · 3 years

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claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.

"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.

"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.

there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.

"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.

"judgement day," claire says dryly.

donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"

"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."

"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."

"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.

trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.

"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.

"the boys are here," claire informs her.

kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"

"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.

"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.

"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.

jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."

"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.

"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.

"no. aren't you god?"

"yes, but i don't get paid to be."

"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from sam."

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."

jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"

"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.

"yes."

"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."

"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.

claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."

"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.

"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."

"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"

"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.

"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.

claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"

"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."

"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."

"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."

claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."

"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."

"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"

"well, castiel is my father."

"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."

jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"

"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."

"deal," jack says immediately.

money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.

claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.

she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.

but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.

and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.

he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.

another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.

when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.

"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.

and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.

"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"

claire snorts.

"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"

"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.

"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."

the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.

"is this a joke?" dean sputters.

"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."

"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.

dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"

"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.

"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."

"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."

"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.

"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."

dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.

#sobs adventures in writing #happy mother's day to all the spn moms!!!#dreamhunter #destiel adjacent #sort of?#look i just wanted to write something cute okay let me have this lmao #sobs says things #claire bear #jack jack #dean bean #cas bby #jody mills #donna hanscum #kaia nieves #spn ladies #sammeh

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wenjunhai · 2 years

Text

## RED LIPSTICK — choi yeonjun x f!reader

↳ under the moonlight, you and your boyfriend let loose and dance, share playful bickers—and ruin that red lipstick of yours.

!! song sug — red lipstick by leehi

warnings — lot of kissing ಠ_ಠ

genre — fluff !!

it was a late friday night in spring, when you and yeonjun officially got together. now, after two years of being with each other, you both were at a restaurant filled with wealthy individuals, rich wine, and gold chandeliers to celebrate your second anniversary. everything seemed as if with one simple touch, it would shatter, and the price for what had shattered, would cost billions. yeonjun and you had never cared for anything expensive or fancy when it came to gifts or dates. however, you both decided to give it a try as this was an experience new and memorable. tonight, you were both just caught up in the vibe, drinking, laughing, and filling your stomachs. when paying the bill, you had both shared it as it was what you always did on big events like this and when you two had bickered on who was paying. though, you both left your childish behaviour at home and tried to blend in with the well mannered people surrounding you. as if you two were either on a wanted list or a red carpet couple, stares were pinned on the two of you from almost every table on your way out. yeonjun had worn a black suit with a button undone, it looked slim and fit on him. to top it off, he had chosen a red blazer that matched the exact shade of your red satin dress. it had a scandalous slit on the side and it was slightly exposed on the back. yeonjun thought you looked gorgeous tonight like every other day, he was extremely proud when he had helped you put on your jewelry on the way.

"god, that was painful." yeonjun huffed out, once you two were now out in the moonlight. "you’re right, it was stuffy in there." you replied. both of you were a bit tipsy since you had drank a few, though you both knew how to handle your drinks. you pulled out your compact mirror from your purse to fix your makeup. walking slowly on the sidewalk, yeonjun with his hands in his pocket, watched as you cleaned your red lipstick. "quit staring." you hummed feeling his sharp eyes on you like you always did. you still remained looking into the mirror. just after, he quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest, causing you to look around in panic. "yeonjun, what are you doing?!" you whisper yelled, looking around in relief when you saw the street empty. "what's the point of fixing your lipstick if I’m just going to mess it all up again?" he says. you shake your head with a smile, and walked to the cross light, waiting for light to turn red to cross. yeonjun, who eagerly wanted to kiss you right now, grabbed you again and wrapped his arms around your waist, refusing to let go. you raised a brow and waited for him to do what he wanted, if he wanted to act so bold to do so. catching you by surprise, he leans in and pecks your lips multiple times, not backing away. "the light is red." you mumble, as he still kissed all over your face. "red doesn’t always mean stop." he stupidly stated before pulling away, devilishly looking at you from under the street light. his smirk and the way he had looked at you, hands still on you, had you in a trance. "you got a little something there." he pointed at the corner of your mouth and walked away whistling, as he crossed the empty street. your mouth hung open in complete shock as you watched him walk away under the red light.

you walked faster to catch up with your boyfriend. "you think you’re funny?" you sarcastically say, fixing yourself in the mirror again. it would be hilarious to anyone if they had saw the way you two had acted in the restaurant compared to now. but, the people you were now with each other, was all normal, bickering and being this playful was both of your love languages. "actually, i believe i am extremely hilari—" the sound of jazz—like music started, interrupting yeonjun and making him jump slightly, like a frightened cat. "come on, let’s see!" you giggled at how startled he got and began walking towards the crowd that was slowly forming. in awe, you watched as people danced everywhere to this music the band played, and singer sang effortlessly, yeonjun watched in awe from behind you as well. 'before the night is gone, do it right now. can you feel something so loud between you and me? with those lips, tell me that you love me.'

at these lyrics, you turn around to face yeonjun who stood there already looking at you, your heart skipped a beat as both of your thoughts connected in one. it was clear to everybody that you two were in love. just like that, yeonjun stepped back slightly and offered a hand in front of you. you looked at his palm waiting for yours and then smiled, not hesitating to put your hand into his. he kissed the back of your hand before walking fast, pulling you behind him. the music and the crowd was now faint and the sound of both of your heeled shoes were clanking on the sidewalk. 'just dance, dance, dance, keep on. dance, dance, dance, people.' "you heard the song." yeonjun stopped, twirling you around and catching you with surprise. you stayed in a dip position looking up at yeonjun with wide eyes as he looked down at you with a wide smile. "you’re always blowing my mind." you raise your brows with a smile, patting his chest so he could bring you back up. you walked away from him and sat on the nearest bench, reaching for your feet to take off your heels and rest. surprising you again, yeonjun jumps on the bench beside you, the sound of the large thud startling you, and you look up at him again. "come on, i can dance all night. six in the morning and i'll still be going." he says, reaching out a hand to you again. you roll your eyes playfully and grab his hand, he instantly pulls you up causing you to almost fall if it weren’t for his strong hold on your waist. the street light was almost like your spotlight as you two stood in the middle, underneath it. the stars in the sky shined brightly as if it were your audience.

the faint sound of the song was still playing, so yeonjun took that opportunity to jump off the bench and lead you to the ground softly. he twirls you again, this time doesn’t dip you but swiftly takes off his blazer, and wraps it around you. he stretches out his arms, his broad figure now noticeable without the blazer and winks at you before running off. you gulp as you watch him walk away and scoff. hurriedly, you put on back your heels and try to catch up to him. however, as you walked forward, he was nowhere to be seen. "my love!" you hear his familiar voice and turn around to see him leaning on a street light pole. he spins around it and moves to you, kissing your cheek. he spins around to your opposite side to leave you again, but you manage to grab onto his collar and look at him in the eyes. "who are you running from?" you smirk, looking into his hungry eyes. you lean in to kiss him but stop before your lips could meet. smirking again, you take the blazer off from around your shoulders, and throw it into his chest before walking away, with a playful sway to your hips. yeonjun watched as you walked away happily, still feeling the heat rise to his face as he was deeply anticipating for that kiss.

on the way back to the apartment you two shared, you both teased each other as much as you could and danced around the sidewalk. like in the movies, you both danced your hearts desire until your feet were sore. reaching the apartment, you fix your messed up hair as yeonjun panted lightly and ran a hand through his black slicked back hair, since small strands were falling in front of his face. you both stepped into the elevator, mirrors surrounding you everywhere, and the dimmed golden light brightly hitting your tired eyes. as the doors started to close, Yeonjun turned in front of you and backed you up into the wall. "whatever it is you’re waiting for, i'm telling you now that it isn’t going to happen." you raised your brow and looked away confidently. yeonjun only tightened his grip on your waist and titled his head sideways, the look in his eyes were asking if you were sure. you watched from the corner of your eye as the small strands of his hair that were supposed to be slicked back neatly, were now messily falling down; it made him more attractive.

as yeonjun accepted how you refused to give him what he wanted, he leaned in and started to give your neck warm butterfly kisses. you let out faint giggles and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. he looked back up at you with a loving smile and you couldn’t help but lean in and mess up your red lipstick all over again with him. you both shared a passionate kiss, pulling away occasionally to look at each other in the eyes. yeonjun occasionally cupped the side of your face and always smirked when your breathing had shook. you hit his chest every time you felt that cocky smirk on his face when he kissed you, and it only made him chuckle deeply. when you both let go, you two were breathless. yeonjun, who now had two times more of red lipstick smudged on his lips, reached into your bag and pulled out your tube of lipstick. "can i write with this? i’ll buy you a new one." he said. you looked at him confused but nodded afterwards as you didn’t really care. there wasn’t much product left in the tube. he opened the cover and wrote on the mirror, "red doesn’t always mean stop." you scoff at the familiar message he had said earlier, and the elevator door opened right on time. yeonjun looked at you with a proud smile. he grabbed your hand and you two shared a playful laugh as you ran out the elevator in hurry back to your apartment, so nobody would catch you vandalizing the elevator mirror and to end off tonight smudging more of your red lipstick.

[END] © wenjunHAI

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Patch Me Up

Thomas can’t help but set his heart on the prettiest Med-Jack in the Glade, Y/N L/N. The only problem is that Thomas is fairly sure that she’s way out of his league.

masterlist

The first time Thomas winds up in the med-jack clinic, he’s kind of embarrassed about it.

It wasn’t like he really meant to injure himself, anyway. It just so happened that he was really behind on clearing the weeds from whatever woebegotten section of the gardens the track hoes had allowed him to use, and Newt and Zart had stepped away for the time being, so Thomas got the bright idea to grab a longer blade from their casual resting place in the grass and try to lop all of the vines down before his friends saw. It was a great idea, of course, until his shins happened to be in the way.

Now Thomas is standing in the middle of his garden plot, blood leaking down into the soil, and all he can think about is the fact that he has no idea where to go from here. The vines have all been savagely cut away, which is perfect for him, but it’s too late to hide the bloodstain on the blade or the smear of red on his leg. He doesn’t really know what he expects Newt to say when he finds out, but he definitely doesn’t expect the blond boy to start laughing.

“Jeez, Greenie, you really are a klutz. First you trip while running to the Maze when you’re not even five minutes out of the Box, then you manage to stab yourself while gardening. How do you do it?” Thomas glares at his friend, who’s almost doubled over laughing now. “It’s not like it happened on purpose. Besides, I didn’t stab myself, it’s just a scratch.” Newt attempts to control himself. “Right, I’m sure about that. Not sure why you would go around slicing yourself, but I’m not about to question you. Come on, then, you’ll have to get the med-jacks to see to that.”

Thomas frowns, but follows Newt as the blond second in command starts to lead him away from the gardens and back towards the buildings of the Homestead and the center of the Glade. “The med-jacks?” Newt nods. “They’re what passes for doctors around here. They’ll fix you up with some bandages and antibiotics and you’ll be good to go, so long as you don’t stab yourself when trying to pick the tomatoes.” Newt was expecting Thomas’ attempt to hit him and dodges easily, which is unfortunate.

Eventually, Newt and Thomas enter a door into a structure that’s less a building and more just a hut. A roof is propped up on logs and twigs and whatever else the Builders could find, and Thomas can see rows of beds and tins of medical supplies lying around. It’s a mess, that’s for sure, but what isn’t in the Glade? Thomas has to hurry over to Newt, who’s already disappearing around a corner.

When Thomas catches up with Newt again, he’s surprised to see the blond boy talking to someone, a bright smile on his face. Newt, upon seeing Thomas approach, beckons for him to come over. “This is Thomas, by the way. Thomas, this is Y/N. She’s the one who patches most of us up around here.”

All of a sudden, Thomas feels like he’s been caught in the middle of a sunspot. There’s a girl in front of him now, a beautiful girl that makes Thomas wonder how on Earth he hasn’t seen her around before. He’s sure that he would remember her- even now, he’s doing his best to carefully memorize every detail of her face and hands and smile so he can cherish the memory for the days to come. She’s gorgeous, that much is certain, and she’s looking at him with so much happiness over just him that Thomas wants to grin stupidly.

However, he can’t just stand here gaping like an idiot, so he closes his mouth and manages a nod in greeting. Newt, watching with a raised eyebrow, seems to be enjoying this. “Don’t get too infatuated, Greenie. Y/N’s used to all of us and so she won’t ever go out with any of us. That’s just how it is.” Y/N laughs. “Maybe I’m just sick of the rest of you coming in here all the time to bother me.” Newt shrugs. “That too.”

They talk for a few moments, then Y/N claps her hands together, almost startling Thomas. “Right, Greenie, what’s your problem? I mean, what happened that would bring you to the med-jack hut?” Newt grins first at Thomas, then at Y/N. “I’m going to let you explain that one, greenbean. I’ll meet you back in the gardens.” With that, and a parting wave, Thomas is left alone with the closest thing to an angel he’s ever found in his life.

He doesn’t have time to sit and think about this, though. Y/N’s still regarding him expectantly, and Thomas can feel his cheeks start to heat up at the ridiculousness of his injury. Of course, the first time he meets a girl like Y/N he has to do it by the stupidest of means. Thomas gestures roughly towards his leg. “I, uh, accidentally cut myself.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “While in the gardens?” Thomas nods. “While in the gardens.”

He half expects her to laugh at him like Newt had, but instead she shrugs and reaches for a roll of bandages and some ointment. “Not the worst injury I’ve seen, or the worst story. You should have seen the things Newt used to come in here for. I think he once twisted an ankle when he was walking too close to a tree and forgot to move out of the way.” Thomas almost snorts. “He what?” Y/N looks up at him, halfway through treating his cut. There’s a laugh dancing behind her eyes that makes Thomas’ smile widen in spite of itself.

“Yeah, he tripped over a tree. We all thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for weeks. Ask him and he’ll deny it, of course, but it happened nonetheless.” Thomas’ cheeks almost hurt from smiling this much. “Is that why he limps all the time? He hurt himself doing something like that?” All of a sudden, Y/N’s smile slips away from her. There’s a look in her eyes that tells Thomas that something happens, something bad that she can’t seem to shake. “No, not that.”

She stands up now, pressing a roll of bandages into his hands. “Here, that should hold for a while. Change your bandages before you go to bed, you don’t need me for that. It’s a shallow cut, so you’ll be fine.” Thomas wants to curse himself. Why’d he have to bring that up and make her feel so bad? “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Y/N forces a smile, which is almost as bad to see as if she’d just started glaring at him. “No, it’s fine. You should probably go back to the gardens, though. I think Newt is waiting.”

Before he knows it, Thomas is standing outside the med-jack hut, staring at the door closed right in front of him. For a moment, all he can do is just stay there and think about what just happened. Thomas thought that whatever had happened to Newt was old, an injury that happened a while ago. Judging by Y/N’s reaction, though, it’s still fresh in her mind, and now he’s gone and reminded her of it. What does he do about that?

The second time Thomas finds himself in the med-jack hut, he does his best to avoid it.

It wasn’t like this injury was all that bad. Still embarrassing, still ended up with blood on his hands, but he didn’t need to go to the med-jacks, he’d be fine. That’s what Thomas tried to tell Minho, anyway, but his friend wouldn’t listen. “If you end up getting that cut infected, it’ll be a lot worse and Y/N will kill us all. Just go, you’ll be in and out in ten seconds and it’ll be fine.” Thomas tries his best to protest and come up with excuses to stay away from the flimsy hospital room, but in the end, Minho won’t take no for an answer, practically dragging him towards the hut anyway.

It’s not like Thomas has a particular aversion to getting medical treatment, it’s just that he’s afraid to see the girl there waiting for him. Ever since that day, when he’d mistakenly brought up Newt’s injury, Thomas can’t help but feel guilty. He can’t figure out quite what it was that would make Y/N’s seemingly ever-bright eyes darken like an approaching storm, but it was definitely something he’d said. He’s not sure that Y/N will really want to talk to him, as she’d more than given that impression by shooing him out of her workplace, so he’s done his best to avoid the med-jack hut.

However, he can’t exactly tell all this to Minho, so all Thomas can do is try his best to argue his friend out of a trip to the hut. Minho refuses, of course, and Thomas finds himself waiting in the med-jack hut a few minutes later, arms crossed over his chest in annoyance. He sends up a silent prayer to whoever is listening that he’ll get Clint or Jeff, but when he hears someone say his name in a surprised voice, he recognizes it as Y/N and Y/N alone.

She walks over to them, holding a thermometer from where she’d been organizing a box of supplies recently arrived from the Box. “What’s up, you guys?” Minho jerks his thumb towards Thomas with a grimace. “This shank went and cut himself on the walls of the Maze while we were out running. He tripped and caught himself, but his shoulder bit it. It was kind of funny, actually.” Y/N playfully swats Minho while she walks by. “No making fun of injuries, Minho. We’ve talked about this. I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

Now she’s standing in front of Thomas, grimacing in sympathy at the small bloodstain over his shoulder blade. “You’ll need to clean that up pretty soon. Minho, you go ahead to the Map Room. I’ll take care of Thomas.” Minho flashes her a thumbs up, already starting to jog out of the room. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Y/N grins as she watches him go, then turns back to Thomas, who’s still standing there with apprehension rising in his chest. What is he supposed to say now? Sorry I brought up what might have been a traumatic incident in your past, I didn’t know and kind of felt loopy whenever you smiled at me? Yeah, that wouldn’t really work out too well.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to think at all. She’s already conjuring up a fresh grin for him, an inquisitive expression on her face. “You know, usually whenever Greenies show up, they go through the same routine of showing up here with fake injuries just to see the one girl in the Glade, but seeing as Minho had to physically drag you here, I don’t think that’s the case. Bandages again?” Thomas manages to nod. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Y/N’s already spinning back across the room to grab the roll of bandages, but she holds up a finger in the air just in case. “That’s good, because I wasn’t asking. That’s a little check, just to make sure you aren’t out of your shucking mind.” Thomas snorts. “Who isn’t?” Y/N laughs as she starts to dress the wound. “Well, I was kind of wondering if you were. You’ve practically been avoiding me ever since we met.”

Thomas has to admit that this is true- in all of his fear to misspeak again, he’s been constantly passing up opportunities to talk to Y/N again. He doesn’t sit next to her at meals, he doesn’t cross the bonfire to say hello. Looking back at it now, it does look as if he’s been trying to distance himself, even if that couldn’t be further from how he felt. Thomas scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I’m still a dumb Greenie who doesn’t know how to talk to the one girl in the Glade.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it. Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?” There’s a hesitancy in her question, like she’s second-guessing herself. Thomas almost rushes over himself in his haste to convince her that this isn’t her fault. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just- I know I upset you the last time we talked, and I felt bad about that. I guess I just kind of figured that you wouldn’t want to see me for a while.”

Y/N looks up at him in surprise, bandages forgotten. “What are you talking about? Thomas, that was a one time thing, I swear. It was just a hard day and a hard memory, nothing more. Shuck, you’ve been guilting yourself over this the entire time?” Thomas shrugs, a slight smile on his lips. “Well, not the whole time.” When Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, he clarifies. “Maybe a little bit more than most of the time. Okay, a lot.”

Y/N giggles, and Thomas almost wants to make a fool of himself a few more times just to hear it. “Consider this whole thing over and done. I officially forgive you for something that I forgot about an hour after the conversation.” She grins, and Thomas grins with her. “That sounds good to me.” Y/N nods, taking a step backward to consider her work. “You know what would sound good to me? If you stopped injuring yourself all the time. I mean, I go through a roll of bandages like every hour.”

Thomas scoffs. “That’s because there are more shanks in the Glade than just me, Y/N. I’m not the only one getting hurt.” Y/N points at him to further her point. “Yeah, you’d better not. In fact, simply stop being injured. Easy as that.” He can’t help but laugh, and Y/N’s eyes sparkle triumphantly at this. “You’ve got a nice laugh, Thomas.” As with anyone else, Thomas’ laugh dries up slightly when he hears this truth, like the second he’s complimented he has to hide that very thing.

He doesn’t know what to do now, where to go from here. All he can really do is stand here and watch her smiling at him. To be honest, Thomas is fairly sure that’s all he would ever want to do. He knows it’s time for him to leave and stop bothering her, but Y/N’s looking at him like she just might give him a chance, so he decides to offer her one. “I hear they’re having a bonfire later tonight. Want to go with me?” Y/N’s grin broadens. “Absolutely.”

Just like that, Thomas’ day is made.

maze runner tag list: the a-maze-ing (haha) @underc0vercryptid, @ellobruv

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

too much of a good thing

he's so sweet, so kind, so dumb - is bokuto really capable of anything besides the best intentions?

wc: ~2.7k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon sex to noncon creampie, manipulation, lovebombing and then neglect, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, a lil angst, timeskip!bokuto, fem!reader with inner genitals

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Being subtle was never really Bokuto’s thing, not even in the beginning.

In some ways, you suppose that you’re lucky - that you’re better off than your friends who you would always hear complaining, muttering about boys who didn't like to commit, didn’t like labels, who didn’t like texting first or buying gifts or putting in any effort at all.

Barely a week into your relationship, you come home from work with your head dizzy and feet aching from exhaustion, and discover a dozen bouquets of roses on your doorstep. Crimson petals are littered everywhere, strewn against the grey concrete of the steps, and although you feel your neck and face heating up with embarrassment at the grand gesture, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

He really was so sweet. Who cares if he wasn’t exactly shy about expressing it?

None of the other guys you’ve dated before had sent you good morning texts quite like his, filled with exclamation points and emojis, and none of them had tried nearly as hard as Bokuto does with his breathy, eager i love you’s, his frequent hugs whenever he gets the chance to see you, or even his phone calls that come twice, three times, even four times in the middle of the day.

But the more days that pass by, the more intense it gets.

He picks you up after work all the time, cupping your face in his hands, eyes gleaming almost unnaturally bright. “I love you,” he’ll whisper. “You’re so wonderful, baby. You’re perfect. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You can’t help but think that these are the sort of words that come months into a relationship, if not years, but… there’s nothing really wrong with what he’s doing, is there? There’s no reason you should be uneasy, no indication of even the slightest hint of trouble on his part.

You’re probably just paranoid.

Bokuto doesn’t stop at words, though - he earns a good sum of money from his job playing professional volleyball, and he’s never hesitant to use it on you. A week after he leaves you the roses, he asks you out on a date to a restaurant you know is ridiculously expensive, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you scroll through pictures of the establishment on Google Images.

“I don’t think I can afford it, Bo,” you tell him, voice hesitant and crackly over the phone. “If we go, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“So?”

It’s just a word, but the implication isn’t lost on you. And if he’s fine with paying for you, if he’s okay with the hundreds of dollars you’ll be owing him, well - there’s no good reason to turn him down, right?

During the date, you talk with him as you spoon bites of delicate food into your mouth. The restaurant is too lavish, the plush velvet carpeting and crystal chandeliers almost a parody of luxury. You’re pretty sure the utensils are half the price of your rent.

He leans over in the middle of the meal, expression suddenly serious. “You’re enjoying this, right?” he asks.

“I am. I’m kinda lucky, aren’t I? Being spoiled like this.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his grin so bright it could rival the sun. “You really are.”

And suddenly - just for a moment - you catch a glimpse of something slightly off about his whole expression, as if it was a mask waiting to be ripped off to reveal something much, much different underneath, but the fleeting moment is gone so quickly you convince yourself that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Bokuto has been nothing if not perfect, after all. If you’re uneasy, it’s probably just because you aren’t used to being treated like this, aren’t used to someone that lavishes you with constant gifts and praise and displays of affection like he does. On the way back in the taxi, he whispers everything he loves about you softly in your ear, his arm snaking around your waist as his thumb rubs tender circles into your skin. His body is pressed so close to yours, his breath gently tickling your ear, warmth radiating out from his firm, muscled body.

He’s so good to you.

It doesn’t last forever.

Bokuto’s affection dries up slowly, but his presence has been such a constant in your life that it’s impossible for you not to notice.

Some mornings, you find yourself waking up to a hollow feeling in your chest as you check your message notifications and find nothing - no late night rants, no funny pictures, no enthusiastic, joyful good morning texts. During the day, the silence now stretches on for hours too long, uncomfortably empty and devoid of the persistent calls that you used to get every single hour.

When he does see you, he’s remarkably reserved - eyes always downcast, fingers fidgeting incessantly, clearly disinterested in what you’re doing, what you’re saying - in fact, disinterested in all of you.

Maybe he’s just busy with volleyball, you rationalize, but your stomach churns with anxiety and deep down, you know that something’s changed.

You try and ignore the dull ache inside of you that seems to follow you around wherever you go, a little voice inside your head constantly reminding you of what Bokuto used to do. Two months ago, he would’ve picked you up. He would’ve sent you flowers today. He would’ve taken you out to eat.

It builds up slowly and steadily, a crescendo of pain that grows in volume the longer he’s gone, like a tidal wave of confusion and hurt that swirls around inside you - until one day, you’re sitting by yourself in the car, sobbing quietly in the cramped darkness.

At least he doesn’t turn you away when you show up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are rimmed with red, streaks of eye makeup running down your face as a frown twists at his features. “Please, Bo,” you whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

And you’re not exactly sure what you did, but you want to fix it, want him back in your life, want to wake up to his smiles and his laughter and his incessant, boundless energy, and you know you’re willing to do anything to get that back.

“Really?” he asks, eyes glimmering faintly with hope.

You nod almost imperceptibly, about to reply yes, yes, want you back so bad, when he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls you in for a kiss so passionate it borders on harsh. It’s a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, a mix of sucking and licking and biting that leaves you gasping for breath, your red lips swollen and slick with spit.

He pulls you inside, his hands roaming all over your body, groping and squeezing at your supple flesh, goosebumps running down your spine as he brings a hand up to brush against your nipple. For the first time in weeks, you see excitement on his face, and his voice trembles as he leans close in. “Let me take care of you,” he says. “Wanna make you feel good.”

And even though there’s apprehension crawling under your skin at his sudden mood swing, you’re so, so glad this version of Bokuto is back that you brush off that hesitation, the mixture of happiness and anticipation overwhelming every single thought in your mind.

As his fingertips graze the soft skin of your torso, his hands - so much larger than yours - maneuver your body around with such ease and grace that you barely notice when you end up on his couch, legs spread wide open as he looks up from between your thighs hungrily. “I - fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, out of breath, eyes running over the swollen outline of your cunt.

You whimper softly as his nose brushes up against your clit, his piercing, golden eyes still gazing intently up at you.

He doesn’t waste any of his time teasing you, his flat of his tongue sliding up along your slit with the perfect amount of pressure to leave you squirming. It’s almost as if he knows exactly where to lick and suck, eagerly pressing his tongue up against your clit in insistent circles, lapping at your dripping pussy until your juices are running down his chin. He’s so eager in between your legs, and everytime he finds a spot that makes your legs tremble needily, he gives it so much attention that you already start to feel that wave of pleasure building in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, your hands sliding into his hair as your hips thrust upwards. “Please.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to tell him that. Shouldn’t have wasted your breath, he thinks idly, diving in and eating you out with renewed vigor.

When his tongue glides around your spasming cunt and dips in briefly, you can’t stop the moan that tumbles from your lips. His tongue is so stupidly long and flexible, sliding inside and licking at your sensitive walls, curling up and brushing against your g-spot until you start to shudder and tremble under him.

You cum embarrassingly quick, your hips jerking and stuttering wildly as he finishes you off. He fucks you through your orgasm, sucking gently at your clit until the border between pain and pleasure starts to blur and you’re moaning so loudly he thinks the neighbors will have complaints for him the next morning.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“How about another?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“I think you can handle it, right?” a huge grin splits his face as he spreads your pussy apart with two fingers, looking at your swollen, spent cunt. He barely gives your chance to respond before he trails his fingers against your lips, fingers teasing in and out of your slick entrance.

This time, Bokuto uses his hands to stretch you out, inserting his digits one by one until three of his thick, long fingers are nestled inside of your pussy. He thrusts them languidly in and out, his fingertips caressing your nerves until you’re tense and wound up for him again.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You can take it.”

Your brain is hazy from the stimulation, barely registering anything but pleasure as his fingers search and probe like they have some sort of job to do. You feel damp with heat and moisture, the pulsing, burning need in between your legs insistent and demanding.

“Almost there,” he breathes, voice raspy with arousal. A fourth finger brushes up against your lips, and the thought of more stretch, more stimulation, more pleasure, has you clenching desperately against the ones that your cunt is already spread out on.

You sob, your body strung out and wrecked, suspended on the tipping point of another orgasm.

As you cum again, the feeling of relief - white-hot and blinding - rips along your core. You’re not sure you’ve experienced anything quite so intense before, and as you look down at him, hands still manipulating your cunt so expertly, you don’t know if he has the intention of stopping anytime soon.

He stands up and your eyes drift to his cock, flushed purple and almost painfully hard, dripping with precum. His hand strokes along his shaft, soft curses muttered under his breath, but he opens them wide again and looks down at you sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice pleading. “I don’t have any condoms.”

Bokuto sounds so genuine, his tone kind and filled with regret, and guilt begins to sting at your conscience. He’s made you feel so fucking good, given you the best orgasms of your life - is it really fair if you leave him wanting and unsatisfied?

You’re fucked halfway out of your mind when you answer, eyes still fixated on his cock, head swimming with thoughts of how much you want to please him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your words slurred and hesitant. “You can.. you can use me. Use my pussy to get you off. Jus’ pull out at the end.”

Ecstasy flashes across his face, and he looks down eagerly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard those words for weeks.

His strong arms pick you up easily, maneuvering you around until he’s the one sitting on the couch and your cunt is positioned right over his dick. His hands grip tightly at your waist, fingertips pressing so insistently that you’re sure you’ll wake up the next morning with bruises dotting your skin. He lowers you down slowly, carefully, groaning as he fills you up and the warmth of your cunt envelopes him whole.

He already looked big, just from the cursory glance you’d taken earlier, but as you feel the tip of his cock shove against your cervix, your breath almost catches at how you feel your walls expanding to accommodate all of him.

The drag of his curved cock up against your sensitive walls leaves your legs trembling and squirming, but he holds you firmly down as he thrusts up inside over and over. “Stay still,” he coos. “Let me take care of you.”

Bokuto starts off gently, fucking you with shallow little thrusts that have you panting with desperation. He can tell by the way your cunt is fluttering that you're craving more, that the two orgasms he gave you earlier just wasn’t enough for a greedy girl like you, and he relishes the way your small hands grip desperately at his shirt.

He raises you up off his cock, running the tip up and down your slit until your pussy throbs, and slams you back down again. The rhythm he maintains is steady and even, bouncing you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, whispering stuttered curses and phrases of endearment against your ear, making you shiver from the overload of stimuli.

“Feels so amazing,” he moans. “Gonna.. Gonna cum soon.”

The heat in your core grows intense at the thought of his orgasm, involuntarily whining, and you start to rock your hips back and forth in an attempt to search out more friction.

Bokuto knows he promised to pull out. He knows that it wouldn’t be right if he stayed buried inside your cunt. But how is he supposed to stop himself when you feel this good, wrapped so obediently around him like a perfect little fuck doll? And the heat of your cunt is gripping incredibly tight all around his length, your little squirms and shivers so adorable as he uses you to get himself off.

He can’t help himself.

With one last, desperate thrust, he lets go, thick spurts of cum filling you up until he’s sure your insides are dripping white, and he caresses your stomach where your womb would be in satisfaction. It feels so good to cum inside of a tight cunt, much better than it would’ve if he’d forced himself to pull out, he thinks. And you look so pretty all full and leaking with his seed.

It takes you a moment to fully register the warm, wet feeling pooling inside you, your brain too fucked out, too stupid from the constant stimulation to truly understand what exactly dripping from your slit is.

When you do realize - oh god, he came inside me - panic starts to grip at the edges of your frayed nerves, your vision tunneling as the magnitude of what had just happened hits you. Tears start to blur the world around you, the dim lighting of his living room merging the furniture and warping the walls, and you faintly register the feeling of arms wrapped tight around you, a hand reaching up to caress soothingly at your cheek.

“You know,” Bokuto whispers, face lit up in wonder. “I think we’re soulmates.”

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

Note

The dead reader made me sad how about something a bit funny but dark based of a comic Tapas called Undying Happiness (it’s been dubbed on YouTube too if you wants to go see it) where the main character falls in love with a guy who’s family has the ability to be able to regenerates wounds even from a skeleton. So do you think we can the cast react to a basically immortal reader?

I like this idea! I also checked out the source material and man, that was SOOO FUNNY lmaoo

Thanks for sending this ask, anon! I think my readers deserve some calm before the storm that’s about to come lol

Summary: undead!reader messing with Team Gojo because why not ;)

Characters: Team Gojo + Sukuna x undead!Reader

Content warning: major injuries (loss of limbs?), mentions of blood

A/N: This is the post anon is talking about: leaving them behind hc

Gojo Satoru

After a while, he will start making jokes about it. You’re not exactly amused at this fool joking around while you’re bleeding out. Gojo is still a little worried (it’s a secret, don’t tell anybody) because he’s firmly convinced that this technique has to have some kind of drawback but it does not. Or at least there hasn’t been any ever since you discovered this ability.

The first time, he would be slightly taken aback but not entirely surprised. You just lost an entire arm; blasted away until only your bones remained but you didn’t even flinch? How in the world?

Truth to be told, you were already kind of used to this. Having to deal with this frequently (including all the “Aren’t you more of a curse?” questions), you already half expected something of the sort of him as well.

However, after processing what just happened, he’ll just shrug. This man has seen more in his life than any other Jujutsu sorcerer ever could, starting from as early as his baby days, thanks to the six eyes. Nothing bothers him all too much.

He’ll just treat it as if you are using Reversed Cursed Technique, just like Shoko.

“Babe, what are you doing? Losing an arm again? Oh my god, that is sooo 2017. Come up with something new to shock me with!” he snickers. “Satoru, I swear you are doing this on purpose,” you got mad while holding the space your arm once held. The bloody substance dripping right through your fingers as the lost limb slowly regenerated.

“It’s really no wonder people constantly ask me why I haven’t exorcised the curse who is sticking to me!” he laughs. You pout, “Rude! I’m not a curse.”

Itadori Yuji

The first time, he is absolutely freaked out. He tries to frantically stop the bleeding in the most clumsy way ever; hands shaking so much it would have the opposite effect. You? You’re calm and you try to calm him down by saying “it’s just an arm” and he goes “JUST AN ARM? THAT’S A LIMB THOUGH???” even more frantically. He already has a few screws loose up there and he knows it but hearing you say that so casually makes him rethink all his decisions in life. It takes him several minutes to calm down. Even though he is a sorcerer now and has seen his fair share of shit happening, including the sopping hole in his chest when Sukuna ripped out his heart, this tops all of it.

After a while, he will be more at ease but still very very worried about you. He doesn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it’s just a small scratch. Yuji is very relieved when he sees the flesh and skin building back, may even be a little bit fascinated but also grossed out. He will definitely ask you lots of different stuff about it.

“Does it hurt when it does that?” he looks at your regrowing limb. “What do you mean, Yuji?” you give him a quizzical look. He points at your limb, “That. Does that hurt?”

“Well, of course losing a limb hurts but I have had this ability for the longest time, so I got used to feeling the pain. If you mean regrowing this, then no. It tickles a little, I guess?”

The look on his face was priceless.

Fushiguro Megumi

After a while, he will still be frantic at first but then it finally clicks. His head goes “oh, right.” and he calms down, the tension visibly leaves his body, because by now, he knows it’s not that big of an issue anymore. That does not mean he ceased to help you take care of it though - and he does a great job at it.

The first time, he thinks you’ll die on him. The boy is so frantic, his mind goes blank. His chest will break out of his ribcage soon, he feels, but then he sees your calm face. Utter confusion descends down on him; what the hell was happening? Why weren’t you screaming in pain? Why was your facial expression so calm? Maybe it was a shock?

But no, you were calm all over and simply said, “Whoops?”

Consider him confused for his entire life now. He doesn’t understand what’s happening at all and his mind is set on helping you nevertheless.

"Ugh, I’m bleeding all over your uniform. I’m so sorry, ‘Gumi,” you mumble as he patches up what he can. “That’s fine, I can just wash it later,” he bluntly states, his eyes hyperfocused on your wound.

“I’ll wash it for you! I owe you that, it’s the least I can do,” you offer. “Just hold still for now, so I can contain the bleeding - don’t want you to bleed out on me. It’d be a hassle.”

“Hehe, sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Kugisaki Nobara

After a while, she will simply proceed to beat the shit out of whoever did this to you first. She will beat them into a pulp and then exorcise them (in case it was a curse). It’s a little comedic for you to see her get worked up over this after seeing it so many times but at the same time, it melts your heart a little.

The first time, the girl rushes to your aid immediately, telling Fushiguro to handle this curse. “Are you okay?” she asks you and her voice is trembling audibly. It was a stupid question to ask, she thinks. But she doesn’t expect to see you stupidly grin back at her, “Yeah, I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me. This will take some time to grow back but it will.”

Grow back? What? She’s confused. Are you pulling a prank on her? It has to be a prank, right?

“No, this isn’t a prank, I’m serious here,” you laughed.

"You really think you can hurt them without facing repercussions, huh? You are so dumb; I almost feel sorry for how stupid you are, thinking that, when I am right here. Now let’s get ready for a game because I can and absolutely will drag this out; learn your lesson!” Nobara yells at the curse and you only chuckle.

Ryomen Sukuna

The first time, he just clicks his tongue in annoyance, looking at whatever hurt you with fiercely glowing eyes. There would be hell to pay for them. He is annoyed at whatever hurt you but he knows he can fix you easily with his Reversed Cursed Technique. This was so inconvenient, not fun. Quickly, he eliminates the source of your pain and turns to you. He had expected you to have passed out. However, once he sees the wound slowly closing up, a strange grin forms on his face and he starts hollering loudly, “What the heck is that, pet? That’s amusing.”

After a while, he will just sit back and watch as you handle it yourself: free entertainment for his bored soul. He may or may not be generous enough to speed up your recovery with his own Reversed Cursed Technique but I’d rather not count on it because it depends on how he is feeling after you finished the battle.

“Oh? You seem to regenerate a little faster now, even without my help. You take more and more after me, did spending all that time with me turn you into a curse now?” the King of Curses sneers loudly. “Heeey, I’m not a curse! But I would feel better if you helped me out with it instead of sneering at me,” you pouted. For a moment, he seemed to think, “No. It’s amusing.”

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Little Talks

Summary: As Logan starts spending more time with the Duke in an effort to keep him under control, Remus has to come to terms with the fact that the way he treated Logan may have caused lasting damage after all.

TWs: RSD, violent thoughts, strong language, blood mention (it's Remus, what did you expect)

Pairings: Developing friendship. Can be seen as platonic or romantic Intrulogical

Notes: Thank you to @cheshirevalentine for helping me create and edit this. They're amazing and I love them dearly. Their AO3 is here!

Having Logan in his room was… weird.

Remus had known it was going to be happening. Logan had made the offer to stop by Remus’s room and let the Duke bounce his ideas off of someone. He’d let Remus ramble, listen to the flood of intrusive thoughts and gory, outrageous ideas, all so that Thomas wouldn’t have to.

Remus had cheerfully referred to Logic as his “test subject” the first time he’d come in, laughing outright at the way Logan’s face had screwed up in indignation.

He didn’t really plan on actually doing anything to Logan, despite the incredibly dangerous position the light side had put himself into. He mostly just talked, reciting each and every thought that came to his head in detail, watching to see if he could get an entertaining reaction out of the ever-stoic Logan Sanders.

It didn’t really work. Logan was stupidly boring with his stuffy clothes and perfect schedule and condescending eyebrow raises. He didn’t say much the first few times he stopped by, their “talks” only lasting ten-to-fifteen minutes at most, but after a week he seemed to warm up to the idea of talking to Remus a little.

He’d ask questions- ask where Remus had gotten an idea, or ask him to expand on a particularly disturbing thought- and while Remus didn’t always have an answer, it was nice to not be completely shoved aside and ignored for once. Besides, Remus always thought of the best answers to those sorts of things on the spot. He liked the challenge of having to think on his feet.

It was still weird, though. But Logan kept showing up, day after day, and Remus could almost pretend he wasn’t the only one enjoying their talks.

He knew that Logan didn’t want to be here, of course. Their meetings were on his calendar, so it was obviously an obligation. He was doing it so Thomas could get some sleep, and Remus could be a little less of a burden. Of course.

Remus had only only expected it to last a few days, if he was honest. A week at most. He knew he was a lot to deal with, especially alone, and he knew it would only be a matter of time until Logan decided it was all too much and forgot all about their little “arrangement”.

But Logan came back the next week, and the week after that, and soon fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and some days he even stayed almost a whole hour.

Remus found he actually felt a little less agitated after Logan left, his head just a tiny bit more quiet. Tormenting Thomas was the closest thing he’d ever had to talking things out, and it was a little discouraging when the reactions were either horrified screams, insults, or pretending he didn’t exist.

Logan actually listened. He listened and engaged.

Remus loved Janus. And Deceit did what he could, but he didn’t have the same tolerance as Logan did for some of the gross things Remus came up with.

Maybe Logic would be open to dissecting something with him sometime…?

He should have known it wouldn’t last. Nobody stuck around Remus very long. He always did something to fuck it up.

He really should have known the way he’d treated Logan when he’d first made his appearance would be a problem. Logic separated himself from the Imagination, the side grounded deeply in reality, but a lack of lasting damage didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

Remus had still hurt Logan to prove a point. And then had promptly moved on and forgotten about it until the next time it was brought up. Sometimes object permanence- or lack thereof- was a pain in the ass.

Remus had been ranting as usual, pacing around his room while Logan watched from the chair. He honestly couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, his mouth moving without much thought as it tended to do.

Whatever it was, he’d gotten worked up and excited, pacing the room, waving and flapping his arms as he talked, smile bright and mischievous and he whirled back to face Logan and-

And Logan flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands clutched the arm of his chair, shoulders hunched protectively.

It only lasted a second, Logan quickly pulling himself together and compulsively smoothing his tie once again. He seemed to do that when he was trying to pretend he was collected, Remus had noticed. His shoulders uncurled as he leaned forward again, but he wouldn’t quite look Remus in the eyes.

“Continue,” Logan said, when he realized Remus had stopped talking. “You were rambling about...something objectively disgusting.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Remus said, crossing his arms and ignoring the stupid, pointless hurt that blossomed in his chest when Logan couldn’t even recall what Remus had been saying. “I saw that.”

Logan blinked, staring at the Duke blankly. “Saw what?”

“You flinched.”

Logan scoffed, adjusting his glasses to avoid meeting Remus’s eyes. Again. “I did no such thing.”

“No, you did. I saw it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said, jumping right back into that emotionless facade he was so obsessed with. “Are you going to continue?”

Remus couldn’t even remember what he’d been talking about, his head flooded with images of Logan flinching away, eyes wide in terror, scrambling to get away.

Logan with a throwing star embedded in his forehead, with his mouth full of blood, crimson dripping down his forehead and chin, seeping into his pristine clothes and staining his tie. The thoughts seemed to dip into that spiral they always went down, swirling down the metaphorical drain pipe into his metaphorical pit-of-sewage excuse for a brain.

“No,” Remus said, shaking the thoughts away for the moment. Like stirring the cesspool a little so all the muck settled to the bottom. Metaphorically. “I’m good.”

Logan sighed, and Remus stepped away as the logical side stood up from his chair. “Then we’re done for the day.”

“Bye then.”

If there was one thing Remus was good at, it was pretending not to be bothered by the little things, by the way everyone perceived him. He was a terror and a burden, and he enjoyed it. It was funny! He didn’t care if he was liked, intrusive thoughts were never liked.

Remus flopped down on his bed, watching Logan’s back as he left. He was moving quickly, almost panicked, slipping out the door and closing it shut behind him.

Remus didn’t care if the stupid light sides liked him. He never had. But Logan… Logan was scared. Of him.

Scaring people was never the goal. Making Logan flinch like Remus was going to hurt him was never the goal.

Logan would deny it to his grave, of course. He was stupidly stubborn like that, somehow more stubborn than even Remus at times.

He’d insist that Logic had never felt a revolting feeling like fear in his life. He had no feelings on the matter, and Remus couldn’t frighten him because Logan had no feelings at all. Not enjoyment, not dislike, and not fear. Remus was another obligation on his schedule. Something to attend to. Nothing more.

And while Remus knew all of that was true… he also knew Logan was full of shit. He had feelings. His feelings might even be stronger than Patton’s or Roman’s. (Though it was doubtful. Weepy bitches they were- far too emotional for Remus’s tastes.)

And he was afraid of Remus. He’d made that perfectly clear today.

He… didn’t know how to fix that. His job wasn’t to fix problems. He made the problems. It’s better to start now than to never start at all, he supposed.

Well, obviously he had to start by finding a new coping mechanism. Logan was helpful, and possibly the healthiest outlet Remus had ever had, but he wouldn’t force someone who was terrified of him to come sit in his room and listen to him talk about guts and gore for an hour. He would have to find something to do in place of their talks.

A part of him doubted Logan would even come back again. Remus had caught him flinching, and with Remus’s reputation he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan assumed he would use the fear to his advantage.

And yeah, maybe under different circumstances he would have. Scaring people was fun but… not like this.

But that was fine, he could readjust to being alone. He’d done it before. He could lock himself in the Imagination, annoy Janus until he finally snapped and drove him away, maybe even pay Thomas another visit if he really got desperate.

He wasn’t disappointed. He’d gone his whole life without Logan’s company, he had no reason to miss it. It wasn’t fair to miss something he had barely begun to get used to. Logan was annoying and boring and stuck up, and Remus didn’t know why he enjoyed his company in the first place.

Not that he enjoyed it. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

He spent all night feeding himself those repeating lies, preparing to entertain himself all on his own tomorrow, so he was almost more annoyed than surprised when Logan walked right into his room the next day, same time as always.

Remus sat up in bed, watching in disbelief as Logan made his way to the chair and set his notebook on the table, settling in like nothing had changed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Logan looked up at him, hands folded neatly in his lap. “I said I would make an effort to see you everyday. I put it in my schedule. If I’m not going to be able to make it, I will inform you the day before.”

“Oh,” Remus said, not bothering to move from the bed. “Well, that’s boring and predictable.”

“I prefer to have a schedule rather than do things on a whim. And I’m here now.”

“Yes,” Remus said, shifting to stare blankly at the wall beside Logan’s head. He bet he could spit that far if he really tried. “You are.”

There was a beat of silence that didn’t often exist in Remus’s room. Usually he would start talking right away about whatever late night thoughts he’d been plagued with, chatting on excitedly until Logan cut in to add something dumb and nerdy.

Remus didn’t plan on breaking the silence this time, choosing to sit and quietly dwell on his thoughts on his own, smirking at the utterly baffled look on Logan’s face.

Logan cleared his throat, frowning slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Lot’s of things!”

“Are you going to talk about them?” Logan asked. “That is why I’m here.”

“Nah.” He hated this, hated the way Logan was pretending to care, like he didn’t want to get up right now and run as far away from Remus as possible. Just like everyone else. “Intrusive thoughts aren’t always words, Nerdy Wolverine.”

He saw Logan shift uncomfortably, eyes darting briefly to the door, and Remus realized that might not have been the best way to phrase things.

“Ah,” Logan said, sitting back like he wasn’t terrified. “You can always show me instead. That is what I’m here for.”

“I’m good,” Remus said, doing his best to sound uncaring. “It’s gross.”

“Yes, I’m aware it probably is.” Another beat of silence and Logan sighed, standing from his chair. “Remus. The point of me being here is to keep Thomas’s intrusive thoughts under control. We’ve discussed this.”

And Remus knew Logan didn’t actually enjoy Remus’s company, he’d known that from the beginning, but it still hurt to hear. It hurt something fierce, a deep, sharp slash in his chest that he would swear he could feel, that he was just something to “keep under control”.

He pushed the feeling down, flashing Logan a toothy grin that he knew looked ridiculously fake. “Okay.”

Logan sighed again, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus wondered if he could frustrate Logic into storming out. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You do,” Logan argued, like he had any idea. “Surely talking to someone is better than being alone with your thoughts,”

Remus scowled, shoving himself off the bed and stalking past Logan, moving towards one of the various piles of rubble and bones scattered around his room. He bet Logan hated how cluttered it was in here.

“At least my thoughts don’t pretend to care about me.”

Remus kicked idly at something that looked a bit like a spine, staring blankly at the floor as he let his words settle.

“What?” Logan sounded genuinely confused for the first time. “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “What did I say?”

Logan stepped forward, shoes clicking against the floor, echoing against the now silent room. “I do not understand why you’re suddenly being difficult.”

“Suddenly?”

“Yes, suddenly,” Logan said, and Remus turned away again with an eye roll. “We had an arrangement.”

“Did we?”

“Yes.” Logan touched his arm, and Remus yanked away so fast he thought he might have pulled something. “This is beneficial for everyone.”

“Right,” Remus scoffed. “For everyone.”

Logan actually had the audacity to look taken aback, brow drawing in further confusion. “Yes? You have an outlet, and Thomas gets a break.”

“I don’t need it. I can bash skulls in the Imagination.”

“Which is significantly more unhealthy.”

Remus shrugged, kicking another bone until it slammed into the wall. “It’s easy and fun.”

“We were doing fine,” Logan said, trying to move around him so Remus would meet his gaze. “I thought coming in to talk to you was helping.”

“You don’t care,” Remus snapped. “And you don’t want to listen.”

“I want to,” Logan said. “That is why I’m here.”

“Right.”

“I am incredibly busy, Remus,” Logan said, and Remus felt like he was being lectured. “I would not be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“Then get gone!” Remus spun around gesturing to the door. “Just fucking leave already!”

“I think I’d prefer to stay.”

“You said you’re busy,” Remus snarled. “If you’re so busy you don’t need to carve out time for me.”

“I chose to.”

“Thomas can live with intrusive thoughts,” Remus said. “He’ll be fine. Patton and Virgil will ease up eventually. You should be focused on them.”

“I have been.” Logan was still staring at him, and at this point Remus was considering storming out of his own room. “I have time for you.”

“I thought you were busy,” Remus argued, back to being difficult on purpose. “Which is it? Are you busy or do you have time?”

Logan sighed, and now Remus felt like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’ve made time. I’m making time for you.”

“Right.”

“I don’t understand what changed,” Logan said. “I thought you were getting some enjoyment out of our talks.”

“Yeah, I was,” Remus admitted because despite everything, that was the truth. “But you aren’t.”

It took a moment for Logan to respond, no less confused than before. “I am perfectly content.”

“Yeah?” Remus finally turned around to face him, looking the logical side right in the eyes. “Then why did you flinch?”

Logan blinked, shoulders tense, a mix of panic and understanding flickering in his eyes. “I...did not flinch.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie.”

It was Logan’s turn to scoff, like Remus was being ridiculous and dramatic. And he often was, but he was serious this time. “I don’t see how one involuntary movement has become such a big deal.”

Remus didn’t look away, even as Logan’s eyes began to wander. “You’re afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. “I do not feel fear.”

“Yes you do.” Remus stepped closer, taking in the way Logan’s jaw clenched. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You’re figuratively jumping to conclusions,” Logan said, quickly changing the subject. “I am perfectly content spending time with you.”

“I’m not jumping to anything,” Remus said. “You’re scared.”

Logan rolled his eyes, hands lifting to brush over his tie before crossing his arms across his chest. Compulsory comfort action.

“You think you saw me flinch once and now you believe that I’m afraid of you, when there is no logical reason to be. You cannot cause any lasting damage to me, so I—”

Remus lifted a hand without warning, fast and sudden like he was going to strike Logan, keeping it frozen in the air as he took in the reaction before him.

Logan flinched back as soon as Remus moved, his own hands moving to protect his face, eyes glued to Remus’s raised arm, widening in genuine fear and shock.

Remus sighed, slowly lowering his hand as he watched Logan struggle to compose himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No,” Logan still had the audacity to argue. “I am not.”

“You flinched.”

Logan fixed his tie again. Remus knew it was some kind of nervous tic. “You startled me.”

“I lifted my hand.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Unexpectedly.”

Remus sighed and stepped back out of Logan’s space, too tired to keep arguing.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He winced at his own words, images flashing in his mind of Logan stumbling backwards with wide eyes, of Logan covered in blood, of Patton screaming. “Not again, anyway.”

“Well,” Logan said, carefully clearing his throat. “You can understand that I wasn’t exactly…sure. That does not mean I dislike you. Or that I’m frightened of you.”

Remus found himself looking at his shoes, trying and failing to get images of Logan hurt, Logan dying, out of his stupid cesspool sewage pipe head.

He wondered if this was what guilt felt like. If it was, maybe he should start being nicer to Patton. This sucked dick and balls.

“I won’t.”

“And I appreciate that,” Logan said. “But you could not cause any lasting damage to me anyway.”

“So? It still, like… hurt you. I’m not gonna do it again.”

“Well then, I have no reason to be afraid.” Logan straightened, smiling at Remus like that had just solved everything. “Which I wasn’t in the first place.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “You flinched.”

“Yes I did,” Logan admitted. “I apologize for that. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Remus didn’t move, staring at Logan in disbelief, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He hoped the exhaustion on his face resembled a glare at least a little bit.

“I don’t… understand,” Logan said, and Remus couldn't even stay mad at him. “Was an apology not what you wanted?”

“No, Logan. I don’t want anything.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brow furrowed, and Remus could practically see the gears turning as he looked Remus over. “You’re still upset.”

“Why’re you still here?” Remus finally demanded, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “If you’re afraid of me why don’t you just leave?”

Logan blinked, seemingly unfazed. “Because I enjoy talking to you.”

Logic may as well have just punched him right in the chest, the air leaving his lungs in a rush as he took a step back, choking out a shocked laugh. “That can’t be it.”

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Nobody enjoys talking to me.”

“Well,” Logan said slowly, and it was like Remus could see some of his walls coming down. “If it helps, no one particularly enjoys talking to me, either.”

Remus wasn’t entirely convinced that was true, but he figured he wasn’t the right one to give Logan a talk on self esteem.

“I like talking to you,” he said instead. “I just think you’re kinda stuffy.”

“I enjoy talking to you as well,” Logan said, and it really did sound like he meant it. “I would just prefer if your more violent thoughts were not physically manifested.”

“Oh.” Remus swallowed, absolutely refusing to show Logic how much this meant to him. He wasn’t going to cry. “Yeah, I can...do that. Sure.”

“Then I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” Logan said, right back to the stiff, professional persona Remus was learning to see right through. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Remus nodded, and realized he was actually starting to believe him this time. “Yeah. Ok. That’s good.”

Logan stepped back out of Remus’s space and Remus quickly did the same, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the Duke’s now painfully silent bedroom.

“I can leave,” Logan said after a moment. “If you’d still like me to.”

Remus hesitated, fighting to keep acting like he didn’t care. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not particularly,” Logan said, and Remus hadn’t expected to feel so relieved. “But it’s your room. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Remus moved back to his bed, dropping himself unceremoniously onto his back. “Don’t leave if you don’t want to. I don’t care.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Logan pulled up his usual chair, leaning back comfortably as he picked his notebook back up and began flipping idly through it. He looked content and relaxed when Remus risked a glance in his direction, and he smiled to himself.

“You can talk if you like,” Logan said, glancing up from the pages. “I’m listening.”

Remus did eventually start talking, dumping his latest ideas on Logan like he usually did, diving into last night’s fantasy of setting an office building on fire in the middle of the week.

Logan had added on, and Remus had listened intently as he’d recited statistics and calculations, the likelihood of survival, and the two of them eventually decided it would be a waste of time, the fire likely to be put out before even causing any real damage to the building.

That was a talent Logan had. He could get Remus to let go of a thought that typically wouldn’t have left him alone for weeks.

It wasn’t until Logan had stood up to leave for dinner, promising he’d be back at the same time tomorrow, that Remus realized Logan had stayed twice as long as he usually did.

Huh.

Weird.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #platonic intrulogical #intrulogical #hurt/comfort #ts remus #ts logan #blood mention tw #violence mention tw #fanfiction #writing

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