#nowadays it makes me pretty nostalgic when they walk past

[tin-cant]

Starting to question if an experience i grew up with was actually all that common so uh

#for little me this was more exciting than hearing the ice cream truck #i used to get rush to the window when i heard drums as a little kid because it meant they were close #nowadays it makes me pretty nostalgic when they walk past

[jessamine-rose]

✿⚘❁⚘❀ Astilbe ❀⚘❁⚘✿

Fufufu after all these months, here’s another Herbarium epilogue with more dark fluff and comfort. It was nostalgic to write for Capitano and his darling again (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, psychological trauma, Stockholm Syndrome

♡ 1.2k words under the cut ♡

The astilbe’s beauty has faded.

The pressed flowers are only a phantom of the radiant clusters you picked weeks ago. The petals have lost their brilliance. The feathery plumes have been reduced to flat shapes.

This is a natural consequence of preservation, one which occurs to all of your flowers. So why do you feel particularly mournful for the astilbe?

Maybe the flowers aren’t the problem. Rather, it’s you.

Your wedding ring twinkles on your index finger, an unavoidable sight. The sculpted flowers serve as a constant reminder of your marital status, disregarding the fact that you and your captor never had an official ceremony.

Capitano…what time will he be home? You usually accompany him to Zapolyarny Palace but he decided against it today. Important business, he claimed.

Nonetheless, he treated you so kindly before his departure. He’d given your new guard a stern warning which, even in his formal tone, sounded more like a death threat. You received a soft kiss, some new books, a promise of his immediate return.

Your life has never been happier. So why are you still plagued with your bad days?

You are used to this feeling, the ever-present melancholy which has haunted you even before you met Capitano—those hours spent trapping flowers in your notebook, escaping reality through storybooks, reliving memories better left forgotten. Perhaps it is your subconscious upset with you, the double curse of your self-awareness and resignation.

How can you believe in his love, knowing it is a twisted delusion?

Despite this, you’ve never smiled more since the day you accepted your fate.

Since meeting Capitano, you even remembered how to cry. Compared to your past tears and “tantrums,” the action feels oddly cathartic nowadays. Like a call for help finally answered by your own devoted knight.

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupts your thoughts.

Your husband is home.

The door opens. Capitano enters the room.

“______, is everything well?”

“Capitano.” You leave your desk and meet him halfway. “Did you mi—how was work? You arrived earlier than usual.”

He feels warm. You lean into his embrace, letting him be the first to pull away. His hands remain on your waist.

“The new recruits show potential.” He looks down at you, face hidden by his mask. After a short pause, he adds, “Did you take kindly to Sergeant Naiad?”

“Cyane was all right,” you reply, shrugging. “They just kept quiet and watched me from a distance. They are nothing like Ceres, if that is what you’re asking.”

The change in his tone isn’t lost on you. “That is acceptable. Should they infringe on your personal boundaries, inform me at once.”

Is that even necessary? He already has his spies to monitor your behavior.

Your notebook is still open to the astilbe. Capitano walks over to your desk, keeping one hand on the small of your back.

“I presume that your astilbe has been fully preserved.” He taps the corner of the page, careful not to touch the pink and white flowers.

You make no motion to retrieve it. “Yes. They’re…not as pretty as when I first saw them. Or maybe that’s just my perception.”

He turns to face you. “If you desire more astilbe, we may revisit the botanical garden.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Shouldn’t this be enough? What more must he do for you?

“Which flowers do you want?” You return to your chair, feeling a familiar stab of guilt. “I’ll let you pick first this time.”

“My darling, what troubles you?”

Huh?

Capitano caresses your cheek this time.

“You are in low spirits,” he observes. Anger creeps into his tone, faint yet palpable. “Did you tell me the truth about Sergeant Naiad?”

You quickly nod. “I was! I just feel…it’s nothing, really! Nothing worth your trouble.”

He remains adamant. “I would be an inattentive husband if I fail to care for my wife.”

What kind of expression is on his face? Even with his face concealed, you don’t want to look at him. Anything to prevent him from perceiving your distress.

From your peripheral vision, an image catches your attention—a framed drawing on your desk, illustrated by the same artist who painted the family portrait in your living room.

-

“Such an odd couple,” they muttered.

You had to agree with them. With his mask and fine armor, Capitano was an intimidating subject. You, on the other hand, looked small and delicate in your lacy gown. But your close physical contact left no doubt that the two of you belonged to the same picture.

The artist spent more time on you. They took a while to capture your face, describing your gaze as a dim mystery. You didn’t mind; it meant more time in your husband’s arms.

During a short break, you faced Capitano to chat with him. That was when the artist froze, staring at you with renewed interest. A silent look from the former, however, was all it took for them to fearfully return to their canvas.

The finished portrait came with a small pencil sketch. You were looking at Capitano with bright eyes and a fond smile, unrecognizable even to yourself.

-

���______?” He holds your hand. His own ring twinkles above your interlocked fingers.

“I…It’s not important,” you insist. Despite yourself, you feel your heart racing for reasons not borne from fear. “I’ve dealt with this before. The issue will go away on its own.”

Foolish girl. Since when was your captor one to leave you alone?

Ever the patient man, Capitano kneels down to meet your gaze.

“One word from you, and I will do everything in my power to alleviate your sorrows,” he tells you. The soft declaration is juxtaposed by his firm grasp on your hand. “How could I be at peace when my beloved flower is in pain?”

Words fail you. You stare at your lap, gripping the armrest with your free hand. It is his next words, spoken with quiet resolution, which spell your defeat.

“But if you refuse to smile, that is also acceptable. I will stay by your side regardless.”

You give up.

At first, Capitano tenses when you throw your arms around him. The hesitation which follows—the way he carefully reciprocates your hug, measuring his strength…it only tugs at your heartstrings all the more.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Your eyes feel damp; are you crying? Your tears don’t match your mood at all.

What is there to worry about? Time and time again, your husband has proven his unwavering devotion to you.

Why should you torture yourself with the truth of your marriage? Freedom is nothing compared to this false happily ever after.

Who cares about the astilbe? You already have the most beautiful, eternal flowers wrapped around your finger.

Capitano’s heartbeat is comforting. He traps you in his embrace, rubbing circles on your back. You don’t need to see past his mask to know what tender emotions lie in his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he says. He lifts your wrist to his mask, imparting a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I feel a bit better thanks to you.”

♡

Side Story ๑ Epilogue ๑ Another Comfort Fic

A few months ago, I started this fic cuz I was sad. And now that I’m less sad, I decided to finish it and cry over Capitano again. Aahh he and Damsel always put me in a soft mood TvT

Once again, thank you to @diodellet for your support as my bestie and peer reviewer. Last year, she actually wrote her own Herbarium-inspired comfort fic which I beta-read and linked above. Her smut is amazing and well-written, so pls check it out <3

Do share your thoughts on this fic!! And if you read the teaser for Astilbe, look at me in the eye and tell me that the Captain isn’t the best at comforting his darling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @nicebonescomrades @harmonysanreads @ansy-tea @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @kocherry @gum-iie @oofasleep @shumidehiro @ryo-ri @dulcetthorns @lambdrop @uhhhh-hi-im-sorry-for-this @the-dreaming-city @lyra-mew @yanmaresu @frogchiro @lcveaesop @micchikari

#il capitano #capitano #capitano x reader #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #fem reader #jessamine-writing

[catsandmiracles]

Camellias and Cosmos

A glimpse into the year 2175

You can't see the sky anymore.

I look up knowing that I won't see the awesome colors of a sunset. The sky is dark as ink, but I'm sure there will be sunlight in a while. I'm not used to it yet. While I water the lovely camellias that I planted weeks ago, I find myself thinking about how different things are nowadays.

I usually wake up to my artificial curtains making my bedroom smell like a fresh morning at the beach, telling me with a softly spoken voice the time in the six languages that I know and advising me tenderly if I'll be able to go out or if the streets will be too crowded to even walk around.

Today was one of those days, when half population can't go out due to the lack of spare space in some places. Fortunately, I love to be home.

My camellias are growing healthy, so I water the bunch of chocolate cosmos next. Its perfume brings back memories of my first weeding making me feel nostalgic. While Immortality has brought darkness to some aspects of our lives, it has made chunks of our lives brighter too. Even though I'm utterly aware of the negative stuff, I have a great life with lots of positive things happening to me and around me.

As I walk downstairs to clean my dusty living room, I think about the drawbacks of living in 2175. I can tell they are quite notorious. Even though I've learned to deal with them, they are immeasurably maddening.

My cleaner robot vacuums under the bookshelf and it hands me a photo it found under the furniture. It's a photo of my second wedding, almost a hundred years ago. While I put the old picture back in place, a loud sigh is heard in the solitude of the room.

Time flies, but I don't think we've growth as a society at all. The overall concepts of marriage and lifelong agreements have disappeared because we take time for granted. People forgot how to appreciate these things, becoming presumptuous and impetuous. I even had to hear how two chilly ladies with up-to-date hairstyles and absurd green dresses were gossiping about who would be the next husband at my own wedding! It's so nauseatingly common that mocking attitude towards marriage. I'm not sure when its meaning changed radically, but it saddens me every time I think about it.

Moreover, there are more reasons why I think we haven't growth as a society: We still have some of the same issues we had 100 years ago, but worse. You can smell the damage we're doing to our planet if you just walk outside the hermetic dome above our city. The fetid smell is barely tolerable. I look through the nearest window to the huge dome that protect us from the pollution up there, my lips tightening inadvertently.

I can catch a glimpse of some parts of the new houses in the sky. We call them 'raindrops' and 'crystal towers'. They were built above our domes, so we can spend weeks without sunlight because of the waste they produce. At least the colors of the sky will be seen again next week, hopefully.

What a life.

However, not everything about 2175 is negative. Living for so long and having no illnesses has so many positive things to show off. Poverty isn't a thing anymore, since there are more jobs and people are desperate to make a difference with all the time they have, there are more home shelters and job offers than houses under a dome.

Furthermore, I had gotten married and divorced twice before I decided that I wanted to be single. In the past 100 years, I've met so many interesting people thanks to the places I've visited and the languages I've learned. After my second divorce, I had time to know myself better and my journey has been disparate and exciting.

Also, I had three beautiful boys. I may be old, but I don't look like it at all! So I've made wonderful memories with my three sons, and their families. I get along pretty well with all of them, as a result they visit my old domed city all the time. All of them are happily married and have children, even some of my grandchildren are parents now. I'm fond of each one of them, specially my oldest grandchildren, her curly hair and big black eyes remind me so much of my grandmother, who died before things changed.

I smile thinking about my little girl; not so little now; coming home tomorrow with her mother, punctually as always. I can almost taste the delicious carrot cake she will surely bring tomorrow.

I'm sure I have the silliest smile on my face but I don't care, I love my family so much. The fact that I could be there with them in the hospital, when my last great-grandchild was born a couple of years ago, despite being 176 years old myself is a miracle and I'm grateful to have witnessed so many wonderful moments in my loved ones' lives.

A sudden loud noise startles me, but I can't help laughing at what caused it. My robot just hit the wall. It is cleaning vigorously while dancing without music, so I suppose my mood is influencing our shared microchip. Instead of turning it off, I think of an old jolly song of a boy group from my youth and I press play in my wrist screen. It's funny how I have in a small bracelet everything I used to have on my old-fashioned cell phone. Listening to the upbeat music, dancing with my robot and thinking of my wonderful family it's easy to say that I wouldn't change anything.

All in all, while the negative things of living in 2175 exist and are worrisome, I think is a fair price to pay for having the wonderful life I have. Humanity has now more time to develop and to improve, so inevitably we were going to make lots of mistakes causing the many drawbacks that we have to put up with today, but I hope that the negative things that we have to face now will be just sour memories for the future, while the positive experiences we're going through remain as joyful as they are today.

I haven't forgotten how to appreciate the good in life and I won't ever take the precious time I have for granted.

~Mlih

#short fiction #short #future #futurism #futuristic #fiction #sci fi writing #writing #blog #earth #life #living #robot #thought #thoughts #oneshot #glimpse #original content #first post #to read #read #reading

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 9 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes:  thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter. I'm dropping this lil shortie so we can get the story moving. Let's go! (warnings: lil' fluff, lil' angst) (word count: 3K) nine: records

Bucky knocked on your door a few weeks later.

It was late, and you were snug in your pajamas, winding down after a long day. With your identity no longer a secret, the government was in the midst of transferring you to something more… hands-on, and definitely less diplomatic, you were assuming; so much for retirement, but you figured 30 years of it had been more time than you could’ve anticipated.

You almost didn’t hear the soft rapping on wood over Vera Lynn’s mellow singing.

When you finally opened it, you found him standing there, wearing tired eyes and a dark coat. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but I started walking and I—"

“When I said you’re welcome anytime, Bucky Barnes, I meant any time.”

A tiny fraction of a smile was offered your way, and you grasped it tight against your heart at the same time you do his hand, pulling him inside.

His fingers lingered on yours, but before you could start thinking about it he pulled away, taking a seat at the edge of your couch. “I finished it. The book.”

Bucky answered your question before you could ask it. “I just came from there. The last one– the last name.”

“Well. Are you alright?” You sat next to him, your knee knocking against his, and his gaze went from the floor, to the spot where your legs touched, and then to you. He knitted his eyebrows, seeming a little incredulous you were even asking.

“I will be.” His hands intertwined on the space between his knees, and you placed a hand ton his shoulder, getting him to look at you again.

“Yes, you will. Do you want to talk about it?”

One corner of Bucky’s lip raised up, and he shook his head. “Is that Vera Lynn?”

You smiled, turning to look at your record player as if Vera herself was sitting next to it. “It is. Takes me back, I guess.”

“It’s all we’d listen to at the front.”

Nodding, you wondered for a second if Bucky remembered dancing to We’ll Meet Again the night before he was shipped off. Even if you weren’t the only girl he had danced with then, you still asked yourself if that memory was burned on his mind as it was on yours.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when. A short-term promise, made back then by hopeful lovers, friends, family members; you had no idea that those lyrics would prove themselves so literal when you and Bucky mouthed them at each other in the middle of a dancefloor.

You let out a breathy chuckle, standing up and beckoning him to where you kept the rest of your vinyl. “Come on. Vera’s starting to feel a little too nostalgic to me.”

Your record collection was pretty extensive, ranging from things of the good ol’ days from the special editions that were still being released nowadays. Bucky joined you on the floor, and together you started to make your way through decades eternized in discs.

“Marvin Gaye.”

You look up from The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, finding Bucky making a face at the album he was holding. “It’s really good. Do you want to—”

“No. No more Marvin Gaye.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You don’t like him?”

“I like Marvin Gaye! Jesus. Marvin is good—Marvin’s jus’ fine,” Bucky rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, and you finally understood.

“Sam’s been preaching you the word of R&B to you too, huh?”

You giggled at the tired look he gave you and silently took Trouble Man out of his hands, stuffing it back with the rest of the 1970’s.

Years ago, Bucky would be delighted to dive headfirst in the new – your trips to countless science fairs and expositions were enough proof of that – but looking at him now, knowing him as you were starting to once again, you figured that just a dip of the toes was more than enough.

You pulled Frank Sinatra from the 1950’s section.

“I know Sinatra.”

“Do you now?”

You put the record on your player, and Vera Lynn’s longing gave way to Sinatra’s swagger and jazz.

“Do you?” Bucky teased, frowning at the most recent items in your collection. As soon as Frank’s voice filled the silence, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“I do know him! Or did. Met ‘im in 1962.” You plopped next to Bucky, who was shaking his head. “What?”

“Show off.”

“No, just been around. Met people on the way. And, you asked.” Your smirk grew into a grin as Bucky mouthed your words back at you. Then his face fell for a second, and your amusement was quickly replaced by worry. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I guess – I guess I just missed a lot.” The same way one of the corners of his lips tug on his cheek again in his attempt of a smile, melancholy tugs at your heartstrings. “I missed out on everything. And I missed out on you.”

Bucky’s head was low as he spoke and you could see the tremble of his hands, even though he clutched one of your records tightly. Nina Simone, 1960’s.

“M’not going anywhere, you know.”

“You still lived an entire lifetime—”

“I did, yes, thank you for constantly reminding me that I’m over 100 years old.” You shook your head at him, sighing softly when he chuckled.

You couldn’t blame him, for clinging to every bit of past he’d missed while he was in HYDRA’s clutches – you knew that was inevitable, but you wished that such sorrow wasn’t so related to you.

“What are you doin’?” He asked as you summoned a small stool from the side of your shelf and stepped on it.

“I want to show you somethin’.” The thing you were looking for was stored at the very top: a heavy, brown leather suitcase that almost made you lose your balance when you pulled it from the spot it had been sitting in for—honestly, years, many of them.

The contents of the suitcase rattled as you climbed down and sat next to Bucky again. Sinatra still playing, telling his lover I've got you under my skin, I've got you, deep in the heart of me;

You almost laughed from the truth and irony of it.

I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

You unlocked the suitcase, revealing the gathered memories inside. Pictures, movie tickets, theater playbooks, receipts, trinkets. All souvenirs of the 80 something years of your life Bucky hadn’t been there to see.

Not organized in the slightest, the keepsakes of your life were tossed together and out of order just as in your memory: photographs of you in uniform, and sometimes in party dresses; of when you bought your house; of the few times you had pets. Posing next to famous people and other important ones whose names weren’t as well known by the world.

As you and Bucky went through each of them, you added a story or an explanation, sometimes both, to fill him in on the details of your life events. He laughed at some, frowned at a lot, stared at you intently for all of them.

“Is this Berlin?”

You hummed, nodding. “1989. That party was great.”

“Party?” Bucky knitted his eyebrows in surprise.

“The city was unified, the wall was being taken down, and everyone was celebrating. I’ve never seen that many bottles of vodka in one place.” You laughed, taking a good look at yourself in the picture.

The 80’s were definitely not your best decade, looks wise. You had tried a perm the year before, and the poodle look was only then starting to dial down. The beginnings of a bruise were starting to creep on your left eye, from the mission you had completed just a few hours before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that drunk.”

Bucky’s surprise intensified, his eyes wide. “We can’t get drunk.”

“Yes we can.”

“No, no we can’t.”

“We can, in fact. It’s all a matter of quantity and, well, speed.” You giggled as Bucky’s mouth gaped more.

“And the hangover?”

“Horrible. Like getting shot on the forehead. Comes quickly, too.”

He grimaced, and with one last look – certainly to register your peculiar appearance on his mind – gently put the picture back inside the suitcase. A stack of papers seemed to call out to him and he picked it up, releasing them from the band that held them together carefully.

Postcards of the places you’ve been: a small note to James Barnes and Steve Rogers on the back of each one.

Bucky’s voice faltered. He let out an anguished little sound, probably something that was supposed to be an Oh, or a What, but had no strength to crawl up his throat.

You brought your knees to your chest as you waited for him.

“You—you wrote to us?”

“I did. You can keep those, they’re addressed to you.”

After all this time, you could barely remember the words you wrote in those postcards; all you knew was that some had longer messages, others a simple Wish you were here.

“After we met in Baltimore, I thought that— that you’d have moved on from us.”

From me.

As if that was possible.

“Well, I stopped writing by 2003, give or take. But really,” You sighed. “It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve always been expecting them to come back to you.”

Bucky flipped the postcard from Rome, read the writing and smiled wistfully at it. “And, I did.”

“You did. And staying away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but—”

“But you’re annoyingly stubborn.” His jaw tightened, then relaxed when he smirked. “I mean, I get it – If the roles were reversed, I’d leave you rebuild your life without me like a self-sacrificing idiot too.”

Alright. That was fair.

Shaking your head, you watched as he slipped the postcards in his pocket, an amused expression on his face.

“That was… a big mistake. Something a self-sacrificing idiot would do,” You screwed your eyes shut in shame, opening them when Bucky chuckled. “but now, I’m right here. And so are you.”

His stubble scratched the soft skin of your palm when you reached for him, and you continued. “We’re a little out of place in this century, that much is true, but if I’m being honest… I’m getting tired of yearning for the past, Buck.”

Good old times – sometimes really good, sometimes bad, every one of them old – tucked away in your heart like your records were tucked in neatly in their shelf, organized by year. As you went through the decades, your enhanced body eternizing you like marble, your heart seemingly stayed at that army camp overseas. Or maybe Sergeant Bucky Barnes had taken it with him, only for them to be frozen together, leaving you with an empty hole in your chest.

You lived your life longing for that missing piece, the one with blue eyes and the dashing smile and the skilled feet.

The one that in many other stories was the one that got away, the one who now believed he was somebody else, but had brought your heart back with him all the same.

The very heart that nearly leapt out of your chest when Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

You’ve never been this close – there isn’t an ounce of past in the gesture. His eyes being tightly closed kept him from seeing the surprise on your eyes and then how they fell to his lips for a millisecond. Then, those lips brushed against yours in a featherlike touch.

I would sacrifice anything, come what might

For the sake of having you near

He pried himself off you when you exhaled, as if your very breath had electrocuted him.

“M’sorry. I—I didn’t—” He said as you stared at the back of his neck, and the shock gives way to disappointment.

I didn’t mean to. Or maybe: I didn’t want to.

“That’s—it’s okay.” You clapped your hands on your knees, still feeling the prickle of his facial hair on them, and got up to change the music.

There was no doubt Bucky was touch starved, and that he probably craved the closeness that comes with a lover. He sought that for a fleeting second in Sam’s sister, and now in you. No point in dwelling on what it might have meant.

Right?

Looking at Bucky, his expression was overcast, furrowed eyebrows as he watched you from his spot on the floor. You offered him a gentle smile, and the crease on his forehead eased up slightly.

Right.

Don't you know little fool, you never can win

The record player made a scratching sound as you replaced Frank Sinatra with your go-to jazz compilation. Instrumental.

No lyrics.

There was one thing you’ve always been good at, regarding the infatuation with Bucky Barnes that has taken over your heart for almost a century now: locking the feelings away and stepping into the shoes of the best friend.

Besides, you’ve said it yourself: no more yearning for the past. Hopefully you and Bucky would be able to do that soon enough.

At that moment, however, you needed to feel the burn of whiskey down your throat and pretend it’ll heal the calcinating rejection spreading through your chest.

The guilt you found in Bucky’s eyes as he watched you sweep around your hardwood floors made you pour a glass for him.

He took it gratefully, frowning when you bottomed the whole thing up.

“There’s a lot in here.” He tapped the edge of the suitcase, skillfully steering the conversation in the direction of the more palatable, calm territory it was in before.

The sight of your autobiographical collection made you smile.

“An entire lifetime,” You said, fishing your dog tags from the bottom. “I suppose that’s where it started. Or at least, where thisstarted.”

Bucky took them reverentially, running his thumb over the imprint of your name and numbers.

He reached for his neck, producing from under his Henley the same type of metal chain he was holding in his hands. The fact that he still wore his like that sent a sharp blow to your lungs, almost knocking the air out of you.

His face softened, a smile so beautiful spreading across his lips, so much that your chest clenched in protest because it was simply not fair, how he still had you entirely.

He deposited both of your dog tags in your hands, and that’s when you saw it, and remembered it.

“Won’t we get in trouble for this?”

“Do you care?”

“Well…No.” You sighed, already resigned. And a little excited.

Bucky knew you well: it had been too long of being a good little soldier when all you were used to was the rush of being a hellion.

“And that is why, sugar, that I’m doing this with you, and not with Steve.”

The words made your heart soar, but you were sure to recapture it before it could fly away too high, still too attached to the sensation of the take-off to clip its wings.

You liked flying.

“And because Steve hasn’t been successful in his enlisting efforts. Yet.”

Bucky looked at you from behind his eyebrows, a reprimand hiding in his eyes, but he decided to shove his uniform hat on your head instead. You grumbled, calling him a jerk under your breath.

It was the night before Bucky was drafted to England. He looked handsome in his uniform, a shining, polished star, brighter than the sun even under the dim streetlight you two stood under.

After bringing his and Steve’s dates home (yours was lost to another boxing match along the way – not that you were crying about that) Bucky had decided he was going to stay up all night, because, in his words, he could sleep when the war was over. Or, more realistically, in the ship on the way to England.

So there you two were, illuminated by street lamps and moonlight, visiting the façades and front windows of your favorite places in Brooklyn like drifters in the night.

Bucky still concentrated on his task, his shoulder hunched slightly to block your sight.

“Let me see! Bucky!”

“ ’Sposed to be a surprise! I’m almost done.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I haven’t seen ‘em before.”

“You gotta be more patient. Here.”

He dropped your dog tags on your hand. You displayed the small steel plates on your palm, scanning your eyes over the two. One of them, of course, had your name, number, blood type, next of kin – an aunt you’ve never met – and address.

The other had Bucky’s.

James B Barnes. 32557038.

He slipped his own chain over his head, the plate with your name clinking against his.

You brought the tips of your fingers to your lips, feeling a smile begin to form onto them.

“I forgot we did this. I haven’t looked at these in so long.”

You had stopped wearing your dog tags the day the war had ended – Bucky was gone then, Steve too, and the weight of his dog tags slamming against your chest was too much to bear – your heart was already heavy with its own engraving of their memories.

“Steve had a lecture prepared when he gave mine back.” Bucky chuckled when you looked up at him, incredulous.

You shook your head, half exasperated and half amused. “Good grief, Steve.”

“Y’know how he is. Was,” He trailed, lips twitching as they formed a thin line.

You reached for him, your hand hovering in the space between you for a second before Bucky took it, lacing your fingers. Scooting closer, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder.

“He’d be glad we’re reunited.” You said, raising your head to peek at him and the newfound upwards curl of his lip. “And mortified we’re still bickering.”

Bucky smiled and squeezed your hand. “Old people. Old habits.”

Laughter bubbled out of your chest, and you realized a few things.

In that moment, it didn’t matter – the heartache, the unrequited side of your love. It was just a fact, a fact of life, of your life, that you a lot of the times loved him as more than your best friend. You loved him. And that was the core of it, the most important fact.

And you knew he loved you – you had each other – in this big, ever-changing, modern world, you had Bucky and Bucky had you.

You sat in comfortable, familiar silence until your eyelids grew heavy and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“You dozin’ on me, sugar?”

“It’s been a long day.” You said with your eyes still closed, feeling him chuckle beside you.

“Tell me about it. I can go—”

“You know damn well you should stay.” You patted his arm and hoisted yourself up from the floor. “I’ll get the pull-up ready for you.”

As you sauntered towards the office, ignoring his pleads and protests that he’s got it, he doesn’t need sheets or anything, you put your dog tags back on.

They jingled lightly against your heart.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave all of the past behind to start building something good and new, after all.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

[valuehope]

@angelcmplx​ asked: It isn't usual Hoshi knocks, but it isn't like she waited for an answer, either. She peeks through the door, then fully enters holding a covered plastic tray. Is she... already blushing? "So... I know we can't do much, busy with helping the world and all, but... I had to do something for your birthday, okay?" She crosses the room over to him, placing the tray on a desk then removing the lid. It's a batch of six cupcakes, vanilla with swirled chocolate frosting. It's a bit messy, but with clear effort put in to make them pretty. "Three for each of us, but... you can have as many as you want. Y-you better like 'em too, it's hard to bake these days!" She smiles, despite blushing furiously. Seems the cupcakes aren't the only thing she's really trying hard on. "Happy birthday, Makoto. We're gonna have lots more, and they're gonna be even better with you helping us." Her smile takes on an almost nostalgic brightness to it, one clearly made for an idol, but now just for Makoto. // MAKOTO BIRTHDAY

   MAKOTO WASN’T GOING TO MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT. He never has, really— of course, he always loved celebrating in the past! The time he had to spend it with his family, or... during his time at Hope’s Peak around the at first daunting classmates quickly turned friends, extraordinary people he somehow ended up belonging with too, Makoto wouldn’t trade it for anything. Nowadays, though, he’s more than aware of how out of place it would feel to bring up a birthday, perfectly content to small wishes here and there and a hopefully enjoyable day. 

   That all changes with the knock on his door, though. He perks up quick, tilting his head towards it only to see Hoshi walking through the entrance, which only brings a bright smile to his face right away. “Ah- really? You didn’t have to do anything for me! I’d say just being here is more than enough.” Genuine, but far from dismissive, underlying excitement near palpable in the air as he leans over to get a look at the tray, smile only growing at the sight of the cupcakes. She’s right, things like this are difficult to find lately— right away, they remind him of a SIMPLER time, when the skies were clear and worries were never this monumental, when they were here alongside everyone else. Even still, they carry pieces of those memories as they carry on, and it’s things like this small celebration between them left to reinforce his belief that they’ll end up okay in the end. 

     “This is... really nice of you, Hoshi. Of course I’ll like them! They look really nice, and— um, and you made them, so- I’d... I would like anything you made for me!” Though his own blush grows deeper, his eyes practically shine. “Thank you, really. I... appreciate it— and you’re right, we’ll see plenty more, I know that for sure.” 

#(oh god oh fuck this verse makes it bITTERSWEET) #🍀 [ as long as there’s hope we’ll never give up ] → in character #angelcmplx #🍀 [ all i have going for me is the desire to keep moving forward ] → answered #🍀 [ the world can move ahead ] → queue

[sunareii]

OSAMU MIYA ─ GULLIBLE

sypnosis. you know you have it bad when you let yourself hope of every possibilities, what’s equally worse is people giving you hope, either from your friends, your crush themselves or even you and that’s not the worse part ─ it’s believing them

genre. unrequited love, moving on, slice of life

wordcount. 1.2k

♫ AS I’LL EVER BE ─ CHAZ CARDIGAN

words can’t express how he felt humiliated from his own unharmful doings of believing. and since then he never gives love a chance to tempt him to love in such a ridiculous amount again. not when his heart still aches at the thought of his past with you.

it was simply your highschool puppy love — as atsumu would call it — osamu wasn’t sure when it started but he can recall how you suddenly looked ethereal in his eyes.

it was a day during a memorable spring time. osamu was generally doing his routine after school, walking home with his brother whilst smelling the great fragrance of the season of awakening. he looks down from the mount he was in. in that moment, he was witnessing the most beautiful sight that could affect his entire love-life.

you were under the cherry blossom tree with some of your friends, laughing and playfully hitting each other. baby pink petals slowly showering your head yet stills softly slides down to your hair. your appeal and kind smile made him so drawn to you and it surely didn’t help when he got to know you. he stopped moving his legs to look at you, radiating bubbliness. atsumu calls for him to hurry up in the background for osamu to completely ignore. he keeps his eyes on you, only to be surprised when you looked at him back, smiling before giving him a big wave that osamu has to look around of who were you waving at and the answer lies on him.

spring not only blooms flowers but alsohis affection for you.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to be closer in friendship, considering that you did the first action and it didn’t even matter whether the two of you had the same classes or not. osamu would come to your class and ask you to test one of his food creations which you’re always happy to try ‘cause.. well.. it’s food!

on the other hand, you would come to his practices even if you had any club activities or not. you also came to one of his games in a tournament one or two and osamu is always grateful for your prescence. it also didn’t take long for his brother to pick up on how osamu feels about you and the latter was occasionally held up to torture with atsumus teasing.

osamu really loved you, the smile you make when you see something you’re absolutely passionate about has his heart throbbing, the hum of satisfaction when you eat one of his cooking had to be one of the things that sounds like melody to him, your adorable giggles being the number one though.

he mistakenly thought he was making progress with you as months passed. he notices the small physical touches you did to him and it made him feel gooey inside.

while walking home from school, osamu thought he’d hear another relentless teasing from atsumu but instead came a statement that osamu wished he didn’t held on for so long in his heart. “you know, i think y/n likes you back”

osamu internally chuckles at the idea like he had never thought of it before, he proceeds to deny it “you’re speaking nonsense, ‘tsumu” atsumu was probably blind at the little smile his twin was attempting to resist.

“no seriously, hear me out! don’t they seem alot more er.. jolly around you?” atsumu started. osamu scoffed at him “they’ve always been like that”

“nowadays they seem to skip whatever they were doing just to come to your game? you saw what happened earlier right?” atsumu questions

it was about during one of their plays in the gym in the same day the regrettable conversation took place. you were sitting in one of the benches watching them play. osamu would catch a glimpse of you giggling at who knows what and at the time he presume you were snickering at him which always end up of him staring at you for too long only for atsumu or mostly kita to have his head back in the game.

“i’m pretty sure they thought of something funny to themselves”

atsumu continuous to blabber examples of your possible languages of your attraction to the grey haired miya. during that night, osamu nonstops toss and turning himself in his bed with a smile.

then comes, what now he calls, the dreadful day

it’s the day where he hated himself in every way possible, the embarrassment still washes over him like waves of the ocean every time he something reminded of him of this sad day.

the confession was like a sudden bolt of lightning, something that shocks him, something that made his hearing numb in which he could only his sharp impulse.

“kita and i are dating!”

osamu felt stupid, he felt his dignity and confidence plummeted. it was difficult to face you or even himself or anyone at all after that. atsumu could only symphatize at his other half, he, afterall reckons himself as one of what lead osamu on.

the weight of guilt and remorse clings into him until now, years later and now he has established his dream restaurant. osamu couldn’t see you much even if he wanted to since you’re busy helping his upperclassman with his own work. sometimes atsumus voice would chime inside his head for time to time.

“you haven’t moved on from them yet?” it spoke, no maliciousness are intended when atsumu asked him about it.

‘samu can’t blame him for asking and instead of a confident no, what comes is a broken yes

he didn’t know what could’ve happen if he wasn’t so hopeful then, if he had never expected something more to happen, or atleast if the two of you kept in touch then maybe he would still be comfortable to face you.

osamu stops walking down the street in a mediocre autumn day as he sees a familiar face at the street next to him. of course, it was you, who else could make him stop in his tracks? you were glowing with grace, the sight somehow similar to the time he first fell inlove with you ─ you haven’t noticed him yet, maybe it’s better that way — yet it only felt nostalgic, something he’d miss but can’t really come back to.

maybe he doesn’t love you anymore, ‘cause now when he looks at you, he just feels shame of how much he hoped for a connection, a result he aimed for. it isn’t the sweet yet agonizing feeling of butterflies in his stomach or the desire to have you in his arms anymore.

to answer atsumus question, yes, he has finally moved on from his feelings for you — or maybe he had moved on a long time ago? — osamu just haven’t moved on from his feelings towards himself.

it makes sense, he had only been mad and disgraced at himself for his foolishness. love and hope could either wish for you the best or just hurt you like that, unfortunetely for osamus case, there was more hope then love in what he was craving for.

osamu internally gives a soft, almost sorrowful but he doesn’t let it get through, laugh then a smile paints his lips. “heh, was i so gullible?” he thoughts to himself

he looks at you for the second time before continuing his stroll, letting the autumn leaves fall against him, he nods while holding a giggle coming from his mouth. “yeah, i was gullible” he says to hope

#osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader angst #osamu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x you #haikyuu angst #haikyuu osamu miya #osamu miya fic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu osamu miya x reader #haikyuu osamu #atsumu #osamu miya angst

[leviathanswingman]

Survivor’s Guilt - A Solomon Birthday OneShot (implied SoloDeus)

Solomon was sitting on his bed with a pillow propped against the headrest, a book sitting on his lap, opened to a page that he had tried his best to pay attention to. For some reason however, he found himself unable to get lost in the magic of words. Today, the strings of sentences failed to make sense to him and instead, confused him even more as his mind kept wandering different places.

He lifted his head and his eyes darted to the clock on his wall as he watched the hands tick with unrelenting fervour.

Before he could tears his eyes off the wretched clock he watched it hit zero and shut the book in his lap, filling the otherwise silent room with momentary noise.

11:58, 11:59, pause, pause, pause, 0:00.

There it was, a new day had begun, another Ninth of December, not much different from the myriads of December ninths he had lived through before.

Long gone where the days where Solomon had looked forward to the day, had watched the ticking of the clock with glee and waited impatiently for the day to come.

Nowadays, another year to his life meant nothing more than another year lost with the people he cared about. Only with immortality came the realization that even though time moved forward, it did not mean much to you.

Solomon checked his DDD. 0:05. There were no new messages. Good.

Through the years, Solomon had learned to hide the fact that this specific day, the ninth of December, was his own date of birth. Although he was rarely one to get gloomy over such trivialities, this one was inherently different.

With each and every year he remained stagnant while the people around him turned older, wiser, suffered through hardships, got sick and inevitably faced death, either with a smile upon their lips or regret filling their souls. Solomon however, was left to outlive them all, over and over again.

He shouldn't be one to complain, after all, in his unquenchable thirst for knowledge and power, he had chosen this life for himself. Still, Solomon couldn't help but feel particularly nostalgic every time this time of year came around.

Decades ago he had given up on celebrating this day, had done his best to demolish each and every record that proved that the Ninth of December was his supposed day of celebration. After all, there was no need to celebrate a day that marked nothing but yet another year, with myriads of others just the same to come.

Solomon put the book away and got up from his bed. He walked over to his balcony, pushed the doors open and enjoyed the stinging breeze of cold air blowing against his cheeks. Staring up at the dark sky, he was reminded of decades of birthdays, different from this one yet also very much the same, spent with friends and lovers, enemies and allies, all so discernible in life but now interchangeable in death. Solomon was the remaining factor, the man who had outlived them all, so self-absorbed in his search for knowledge; his very own narcissus standing ever so lonely in a lake of memories.

Solomon gripped the balcony's rails tightly and watched the way his clenched fists made his knuckles turn ghastly white, observed the way his dark blue veins threatened to break through thin skin. Sometimes, he wondered if he had made the wrong decision after all. Who was he to decide that he himself was above other humans?

Suddenly, Solomon heard the faintest of sounds. It was a sound he knew all to well, a sound which most definitely did not belong to the quiet whisper of a cold December night. Like a bell chiming through the empty halls of an abandoned church, a pretty voice cut through the silence, accompanied by the soft sound of wings flapping and then feet hitting the ground.

There was no need for Solomon to look up to know who had joined him on this cold and somewhat lonely night.

„Asmo,“ he said without looking up. His elbows were resting on the rails and he contemplatively watched the way the trees, dipped in white like used paint brushes, swayed in rhythm with the wind. „What brings you here?“

For the shortest of moments, Asmo stayed uncharacteristically silent, which generally meant little good. Solomon turned his head to look at the demon.

Asmodeus was sitting on the railing, still in his demon form, with a thoughtful look on his face. His gaze was fixed on Solomon and Solomon alone.

„You, Solomon.“

Solomon raised an eyebrow at the short answer. „What about me? You're generally not one to be this mysterious, Asmo.“

The demon's eyes shone eerily in the night as he pushed himself off the railing and walked closer to Solomon, putting his hand down on his forearm ever so softly. Those mesmerizing eyes of his seemed to gaze right through Solomon's soul, leaving him bare and exposed, leaving whatever was left of his stony soul to be looked upon by Asmodeus' hypnotizing eyes.

Asmo let out a soft sigh and gripped Solomon's forearm a little bit harder before turning his head to get a better look at him. Today, he seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet and perhaps even the slightest bit solemn.

„You're usually not this lost in thought either, Solomon. I can tell something is up, so don't even think about turning me away.“ A scowl appeared on Asmodeus' face as he mustered Solomon intently. „What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?“ he asked, his eyebrows knit together.

Finally, Solomon returned Asmo's gaze and let out a deep sigh, his breath visible in the cold winter air. He hadn't even put on a jacket and was shivering by now, but either didn't notice or didn't care enough to change something about it.

„I've just been thinking a lot.“

„About?“

Solomon's grip on the railing tightened once again. „Life, death. Everything in-between.  How slow it starts and how quickly it can end again. Do you know what the one thing is all humans have in common?“

Asmodeus kept quiet for a moment.

„Death. At least in the end, everyone is equal,“ Solomon continued, tracing the lines of a horizontal eight on the cold wood with his icy pointer. „With one exception,“ he added. „Me.“

To be honest, Solomon couldn't say what had brought him to confide in Asmodeus tonight. Normally, he wasn't one to regret his choices. After all, they had been for a greater purpose. Tonight however was the one night of the year where he allowed himself to mourn all the souls he had outlived and would inevitably outlive over and over again.

„Oh, Solomon dear,“ Asmo whispered, his voice barely discernible as he grabbed both of Solomon's hands,  ever so cold to the touch, and pulled them close to his chest. Solomon did not cry nor wallow in despair, he had spent all his tears decades ago. What was left was a certain emptiness in his heart, an emptiness he knew was never to be filled again, no matter how hard he tried to replace the human connections he had lost, whether it was with magic or power or knowledge; it was not on the same level and it was never enough.

Suddenly, he felt a steady rhythm against the palms of his hands, fluttering like a newborn humming bird flapping its wings, and looked up in slight confusion. He hadn't even realized Asmodeus had come this close. When-? He was really out of it today.

„Let's get you inside,“ Asmo simply said, still with that concerned look on his face. Solomon couldn't place why Asmo would look at him like that. There was no reason to be concerned after all. No one else had noticed his odd behaviour leading up to today, so why should Asmo be any different?

As if time had jumped forward, they were suddenly inside his room again and before Solomon knew what was going on Asmo had sat him down on the bed and had thrown a blanket around his shoulders. Solomon felt the clouds shrouding his mind clear a little when he noticed Asmo kneeling before him, one hand on the bed and the other resting on Solomon's thigh, staring at him intently, his eyes shining ever so bright in the darkness.

Ah, he must be using his magic, Solomon noted calmly. He felt his pact mark burn hot against his cold, chilly skin, filling him with that certain heat that was exclusive to their magic, both comforting and exciting at once. Asmodeus took hold of Solomon's hands again and pressed the lightest of kisses onto it.

With every second of this, Solomon felt his heart lose some of its weariness and felt his head regain its focus.

Asmodeus looked up again and the golden shine to his eyes eventually simmered down to the slightest of glimmers. „Solomon?“ he then asked cautiously, still kneeling and looking up at the sorcerer.

Solomon took a deep breath and felt the crisp cold air of his room fill his lungs, felt the coldness that filled his bones and shivered. At once, he felt grounded again, felt as if he had just returned to his body from an out of body experience . „Yes.“

A deep shudder ran through Asmodeus' body as well. „There you are,“ he said, his voice relieved, a slight smile replacing his former frown. He lifted a hand to Solomon's cheek and cradled it. „Where have you been?“

For a moment, Solomon gave it some thought, finally able to think somewhat clearly again. „In the past, I suppose,“ he answered, his blue lips still reluctant to push out an answer.

„You can't do this to yourself, Solomon. You had me so worried! I came here because I felt our pact mark grow cold, so so cold. For a moment I thought-“ he didn't finish the sentence, but instead crawled up on the bed, moving behind Solomon. Without any hesitation he hugged his partner from behind, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. „Let's get you warm.“

„There really is no need to-“

Asmodeus pulled Solomon even closer, much tighter than ever before.

Although he felt icy to the core, shivering and pathetic, Solomon didn't feel deserving of compassion. Not tonight and certainly not ever. After all, he was the one who had chosen a life untouched by sickness and death. He had no right to be consoled, for he was to blame for being selfish and power hungry to the core. Wasn't compassion a thing lost on someone like him?

Asmodeus cut through his train of thought before he could slip away again. „There is every need to do this right now. Solomon, I can tell you are feeling conflicted right now. You've been acting so strange all day, I just know something is wrong.“ One of his hands wound around Solomon's body and came to a stop on his chest, right above his heart, right where their pact mark had bloomed all those years ago. „This,“ he let his fingers trace circles around the mark hidden beneath the cloth of Solomon's shirt, „has been calling out to me all night long. You always indulge me Solomon, no matter how selfish I act. Let me be there for you, just tonight, please. I need you.“

I need you.

And with that one simple, sugary sentence Solomon felt the walls he always kept pulled up ever so neatly crumble to pieces.

He was tired.

Solomon turned around to Asmodeus and only for tonight, he let his head drop onto Asmo's shoulder and slid his arms around his body in a desperate embrace which was returned immediately in the same fashion.

As Asmodeus rubbed Solomon's back, the sorcerer allowed himself to let go of those gloomy ghosts of the past, even if only for this year.

It was true, he had dedicated himself to a path of knowledge and power, but inevitably also loneliness. He had lost more loved ones than he could count.

Right here however was someone who was there to stay and most certainly wouldn't go anywhere for a long time. Here was someone who needed him desperately, someone whom Solomon needed just as desperately in return. And although their relationship was certainly a strange one, hard to pinpoint and even more difficult to describe with words, it was indisputably one for the ages.

In the arms of his pact partner, Solomon felt his icy exterior thaw. His pact mark throbbed with comforting waves of warmth as Asmodeus ran one hand along the nape of his neck and worked his way up into Solomon's silver locks.

It was the Ninth of December and although Solomon despised the implications of the date, for once he felt free to let go of at least some of the guilt. Although he had outlived so many, there were still people in his life that would remain. After all, there was so much more beyond the realm of death.

For the first time in decades, Solomon spent the morning of his birthday entangled in the arms of a loved one, fast asleep, comforted by the certainty of countless more years to come. For the first time in years, he felt almost at peace.

#my writing #obey me #shall we date? obey me #solomon #solodeus #implied solodeus #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #angst #hurt #comfort #i went soft on the solodeus since this is very solomon centric #happy birthday solomon here have some trauma #also i just needed solomon getting comforted for once so yeah if this is weird i'm kind of sorry but mostly not that much

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Impending Paternity

Word Count: 3900+ (oneshot) [AO3]

Genre: Humor/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson

Characters: Peter B. Parker, Mary Jane Watson, Spider-Man Noir, Peter Porker, Gwen Stacy, Peni Parker, Miles Morales

Summary: The closer the birth of his first child gets, the more Peter’s old fears of fatherhood resurface. Fortunately for him, he now has universes of parenting advice to call on and prepare him.

Written for the @dimension-zine.

~0~

Waking up in a cold sweat wasn’t something at all new to Peter B. Parker. That didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

What was new to him was registering the feeling of MJ’s arms around his waist as they slept, the flat press of her chin by his shoulders. Once again, they shared a bed: small, but more than enough room for them to lay pressed up against each other, legs entwined, skin on skin. It was almost enough for Peter to forget what had caused him to sleep more restlessly than he had in a very, very long time.

Even in the dark of the bedroom, the damn pregnancy test is staring directly at him from the mesh metal wastebasket, with its solid pink eye. He’d stared down monsters, mobsters, and maniacs of all sorts without blinking, and yet this damn near ignites his old “curl up in the shower and hide” instinct. MJ’s stomach doesn’t show any signs of change yet, doesn’t feel any different against his back...But there’s going to be a tiny person in there very soon. A person that he helped create. A person that he’ll have responsibility to.

MJ can’t stop smiling about it — this is what she’s wanted for a long time — and her joy is very nearly infectious. Peter had agreed to this, of course he had. It was time for him to quit hiding away from the fears that he couldn’t dodge or punch away so easily. But still, he isn’t sure if he can say he’s wholeheartedly looking forward to it, and still be telling the truth.

He’s never had younger siblings or cousins. He has long since lost Uncle Ben and Aunt May (knowing that other versions of them exist, even meeting them, doesn’t erase the sting). MJ hasn’t said a word to her own parents in years, and Peter has never had any problem saying flat out how unhelpful he’s sure they’d be anyway. So he has nobody to fall back on if he has questions or confusions or fears — aside from MJ, and while he loves her and trusts her judgment in all things, he can anticipate there may be times when an uninvolved third party will be invaluable. 

All of a sudden, Peter freezes, eyes going wide. He has the sudden impulse to jump out of bed that always used to come with a brilliant idea, which he feels are too few and far between nowadays. Obviously he can’t do that now, at fuck o’clock in the morning with his wife’s arms securely around him. It’ll have to wait until the morning, but oh, he can’t wait to explain to her over breakfast what he’s planning to do when he grabs enough free time over the next few months. She still hasn’t heard everything he’s had to tell about his little dimension-hopping adventure...

~0~

“So!” Spider-Man Noir slams this finished egg cream down on the table just as fiercely as he has the past eight glasses. “You’re finally becoming a daddy!”

“How...are you doing that through your mask?” Peter asks hesitantly, sipping on his one half empty glass of the drink. 

“I remember my childhood fondly,” Noir goes on as if Peter hadn’t spoken, gazing nostalgically out his window. He had wanted to take Peter bar-hopping, initially, but a guy walking around all in color attracted too much attention on the streets, and they had agreed that Noir’s apartment would be best for a private conversation. “Don’t remember my own mother or father, but my Aunt May says that she and my Ma used to trade parenting tips out of pamphlets when I was just a grub.”

Peter perks up slightly. “What kind of tips?”

“Well! First one’s for your future mama...Ah, how’s your place looking?”

Peter blinks. “It’s...fine. Better than living alone, no offense to you, but — ”

“No, no, you don’t get it. Is it all pretty?”

“Huh? Pretty?”

“Somethin’ Ma and Aunt May picked up from my granny,” Noir explains. “If a mama with an unborn baby sees ugly things, that ugly beams itself into her brain and straight down into her womb, and gets right into your baby. So you gotta be sure to keep her around pretty things to look at, you see? You want a nice kid, don’tcha?”

“Uh...Y-Yeah! I sure do!” he says, trying to keep disappointment off his face. Noir talks with absolute conviction in his beliefs, but what Peter had forgotten was that these were the beliefs of 1933. Even earlier, if he’s getting this stuff from older relatives. None of it’s going to do his twenty-first century self any good.

So the first chance he gets, Peter slurps down the last of his egg cream (surprisingly tasty, he’ll have to look up a modern recipe to compare sometime) and leaps up from his chair, sauntering back over towards an opening portal. “Thanks so much, Noir, but I gotta run! No telling when I can catch the next portal, y’know?”

Noir waves, unperturbed, pouring another drink. “Stock up on lard! You got to give baby’s first bath with it, get all that scum off ‘em!”

“Sure! Lard! No problem!” Peter calls over his shoulder, nearly diving into the portal.

~0~

Though Ham assures him that the natives find him much stranger and more unsettling than he finds them, Peter never quite gets used to being a real guy in a cartoon world. The lurid colors hurt his eyes, things move too fast and sound is constantly blaring, and for some reason he’s very, very suspicious about the contents of those hot dogs. But the veggie wraps are surprisingly good, and he chows down with one hand while typing at breakneck speed with the other. 

“Hot dog, you’re fast enough to kick some butt at the Daily Beagle!” Ham bounces up and pats his head happily. “Granted, we’re more story-ey than sciencey over there, but you get the point! That file-hunting stuff’s really not giving you any trouble?”

“Nope,” says Peter through a mouthful of tomato and lettuce. MJ’s newly emerging cravings were much less of a pain than either of them had expected: they consisted mostly of something rich stuffed into something bread, and he wished he could bring something from here back for her. “The rules are pretty different from the re -- uh, from my dimension, but surprisingly easy to memorize. I should be able to retrieve what you’re looking for in...maybe two minutes?” 

“Faaaaan-tastic!” 

“Can you keep them busy that much longer?”

“Sure can!” As he speaks, Ham is already whipping a comically large wrench out of his pocket and hurling it at the helmeted boar goons trying to break through the barricaded door. “Take that, you @#$%^&*!”

Peter still isn’t sure how Ham manages to make those sounds instead of swearing, but no matter. As far as he’s concerned, no questions equals smooth sailing. 

Well...of course he does have one. 

“Hey, Ham, this might be a weird thing to ask, but...what would you call ‘good parenting?’”

“Huh, I’m not sure. My parents passed before I was hatched, but Mom made sure her sac was settled in a nice place! My web was in May Porker’s lab for months before I transformed! Good thing, too, I was coming up on the tail end of my lifespan!”

“Oh...Y-Yeah, real good thing,” Peter stammers, fingers momentarily freezing on the keys as he processes that whole spider-turned-pig thing one more time. He’s privately quite glad that he’s never seen what’s under Ham’s mask. 

“I consider myself real lucky, actually!” Ham laughs. There’s a crash, and the metal door starts to squeal off its hinges, the enemy scrabbling to all get through the cracks at once. Ham promptly yanks out a machine gun and lets fly at them. Peter chokes down a laugh at the toy rat-a-tat-a-tat noises it makes. “Aunt May’s the best aunt a Spider-Ham could ask for! Bakes a mean apple pie, talks my ears off about her tech, supports me in all my endeavors. And you know, I can barely even see the bite scar anymore!”

Peter chokes on tomato. “The what?”

“Oh, Aunt May was the radioactive pig that turned me into Spider-Ham in the first place! My memories are slightly muddled around that time, but oh well! Doesn’t matter! Though neither of us had any idea it would do that, soooo...maybe just be extra careful about where your teeth go?”

Peter huffs, right-clicking the elusive file he’s found and downloading it to Ham’s flash drive, which is unsettlingly shaped like a bacon strip. “Yeah. Great advice. Don’t bite my kid. Next you’ll be telling me to keep my window open for the delivery stork to fly in with ‘em.”

“Well, sure, that’s just common courtesy! If ya really want to be nice, you give your stork a nice big tip!”

Peter swallows a groan from the deepest depths of his being, along with the last of the wrap.

~0~

“Six months and I still can’t believe you’re going to be a dad!” Gwen shouts, gracefully backflipping over another laser beam. “Like an actual dad!” 

“Almost seven, actually! And yep! Can’t believe it either!” Peter answers somewhat breathlessly, through his own leaping and punching of the armored thugs rushing in through the legs of the gun-toting robots. “Any ideas for names? Because MJ and I are way out!”

He hears Peni’s thoughtful humming through the speakers of her newest prototype: SP//dr, Mark Three. “Hmm...I don’t know much about historical naming conventions, but I also don’t think they’ve changed very much...Chief Stacy, what do you think?”

Safeguarded inside SP//dr’s cockpit from the onslaught targeting him and remaining remarkably calm about it, George Stacy considers it. “Hm. My daughter’s name is Gwendolyn. I’ve always thought that was the nicest name.”

Peter smirks under his mask, and gently elbows Gwen as she passes him. “Whaddaya think, Spider-Woman?”

He physically feels Gwen rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Why don’t you just name him after you?”

“There’s millions of me! Maybe more! And besides we don’t even know if it’s a him, yet!”

“What about Ben? Or Benjamin?” Peni suggests. “To honor your uncle!”

“Oh, come on! Doesn’t anybody have an original idea!”

Gwen wrenches a robot head off and lobs it straight into a goon’s chest. “You know what, those will probably be a little easier to come by after we finish getting shot at!”

“Agreed, ma’am,” Chief Stacy says. “Excellent throw, by the way. Hey, Man-Spider, machine gunner at three o’clock!”

No matter how short and no matter how many people fight beside him, Peter’s various battles always seem to last forever as they happen, but the memory of them only lasts a blink of an eye. So it’s slightly dizzying when just a couple hours after the attack has been dealt with, Chief Stacy secured, and a plan for Gwen to hunt down whoever had ordered it outlined, the three of them are sitting on the roof of a skyscraper, eating cheeseburgers while the sun rises before them.

“I can’t even imagine eating a burger with pickles on it,” Gwen says. “You’re really telling me that’s the common thing instead of chili peppers where you’re from?”

“Yep,” Peter confirms, washing a large, hot bite down with a quarter of his soda. “I mean, I’ve had jalapeño burgers before, but they’re like a specialty thing.”

“We eat pickles on our burgers, too, but they’re all deep fried,” Peni puts in. “Crunchy.”

Gwen laughs, the breeze blowing her hair back. After hearing the story of how she’d acquired her undercut, Peter always finds it funny that she’d gone ahead and kept it after all. “So weird.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Entirely unrelated, if you need any more help with your dad, you just let me know.”

“And me!” Peni adds, SP//dr waving a leg in agreement. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hey...Speaking of dads...” Peter pauses a moment to think before continuing, “What would you call your dads’ best qualities? Like, as a dad?”

“You’re looking for advice again?”

“A little template would be nice, sure!”

“All right, then...” Peni taps a French fry on the burger box. “I always loved how smart and loving my dad was, and that he had faith in me to continue his work when he was gone. Dad always believing in me helped me to believe in myself, when I might not have otherwise.”

Gwen nods. “I feel pretty similar about my dad. He doesn’t know about me being Spider-Woman, and he doesn’t really get the whole rock band thing. But he makes sure I know that he loves me no matter what, and that he’ll support me in whatever I decide to do. Provided I’m not, like, becoming a supervillain or anything, but I’m doing the opposite of that, so...”

Peter feels the urge to start taking notes. “Sounds good, sounds good, and...don’t take this the wrong way, but is there anything they do, as dads, that makes you not like them sometimes?”

Peni giggles. “Of course there was! I didn’t like when he’d work late and not get home on time, or when he’d make me stop reading comics and go to bed, or something like that. I’d get annoyed with him, but I still loved him.”

“My dad kind of runs the house like he does the police station,” Gwen adds. “He can be super strict, a bit like Miles’ dad. Ironclad rules and curfews for me and my brother, endless lectures when we break them. If I were a normal girl, it’d be pretty stifling, but since I have this life that I have to keep secret from him...it can be really hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I...I can see that. I don’t really know if I should keep who I am secret from my kid, though. Would it keep them safe, or...just make them resent me? Or both?”

Gwen sighs. “There’s really no right answer, I don’t think.”

“You’re worried about being perfect.” Peni pats his shoulder. “But you don’t need to be. Just use your best judgment.”

Peter looks glumly at the street below. “I wish that was something I trusted.”

~0~

There’s a hollowness inside his chest. 

The only light on the wide, empty street are from the street lamps, ghastly white against the pitch black. He moves as if underwater: swinging, roundhousing, throwing his barely-pulled punches. His heart is pounding, but the rest of him and the world feels numb. Cold sweat soaks the inside of his mask, and heavy dread washes over his skin. 

Peter’s fighting shadows, human-shaped pillars of darkness. His strikes go right through them, when he can reach. But everything they land on him feels like being pummeled by a cannonball, and he’s not sure how long he can endure it. 

The end comes out of nowhere. One spectral arm flashes up, there’s a glint of silver, and a soundless explosion that makes the whole world ripple. It hits his chest like a tidal wave, slams him into the concrete. He can’t get up again. In the world of muted, swimming colors, the gushing of blood from his shot-open heart is sickeningly vivid. 

“DAD!”

Everything in him jolts. He lifts his spinning head to see a kid sprinting towards him, as fast as they can but not fast enough to reach him. He can’t tell how old the kid is, or whether they’re a boy or girl. But he recognizes MJ’s bright red hair and blue eyes, and his own expression of utter, gut-wrenching horror and heartbreak. 

“DA-A-A-D!”

He tries to say he’ll be okay and coughs up blood instead. His rib-punctured lungs won’t let him speak. Panic engulfs him: his death is going to be burned into his kid’s eyes forever and there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do, nothing, nothing, nothing —

“Peter! Peter, wake up, it’s okay!”

The darkness is blue, striped by the thin gold light through their bedroom blinds. His eyes fly open and he grabs for his bare chest: intact, bloodless. It’s soft and safe around him but he still can’t catch his breath. MJ is awkwardly rolling over in bed to stroke his hair and try to hug him. 

“Peter, you’re okay. You were dreaming. Just dreaming...”

She’s no stranger to dealing with him like this, and the guilt stabs deeper. “I...s-sorry, I...”

“Deep breaths. Slow breaths. I’m here.”

“I won’t be,” he chokes out.

“Peter — ?”

“I-I dreamed that someone shot me, killed me, r-right in front of our kid. It...God, it terrified them, ruined them for life, I could feel it, and it was all my fault!”

He rolls over to look at her face, to anchor him to the real world. He half-expects to see irritation in her eyes at his weakness. Instead there’s love and sympathy. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a dream. That doesn’t mean it will happen.”

“It happened to every parent I ever had. It happened to me. What if I do that to my kid? I can’t — I don’t — ”

Trembling, Peter places his hands on MJ’s belly. Their kid, determined to make sure that their mom sleeps as little as possible, kicks a drumbeat against his palms. They don’t know what fear, pain, or loss is yet. How can he be the one to bring it into their life?

“I’m not running away again,” he assures MJ, as her fingers run through his hair. 

“I know you won’t. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave our kid. I never did. I want to be there for you for the rest of my life,” Peter forces out through his tightening throat. “B-But that choice could end up not being mine, after all of this. The things I do, the people I fight, I could die anytime! I’d leave you again. Both of you.”

MJ cups his cheek, leans in to kiss his forehead. “I can’t tell you that nothing bad will happen, Peter. But I can tell you you’re not alone. Like, I worry about the same thing happening to me that happened to my mom. Dying before our baby can even remember me.”

Peter’s heart lurches; he’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t —“

She cuts him off with another kiss. “We’re both afraid, Peter. Your job is probably the most dangerous one out there, but you don’t have to go through this alone. All we can do is what every parent has to do: our best.”

“What if my best isn’t good enough? What if I fail, and they hate me?”

“It’ll be more than enough for the people who love you. Always.” MJ smiles. “And they would never hate you. I never could, no matter what.”

Tears slip down his cheeks. He wants to tell her thank you, but he can’t seem to speak, only hug her as close as he can.

~0~

He has one place left to visit. Something he hasn’t been able to face until month nine.

Aside from this world’s MJ, Miles is the most common visitor to Perfect Peter’s grave. After the first time, he’s never surprised to see Peter B. here too. 

“Hey,” he says as Peter walks up, morning dew soaking his sneakers. “How’s it going? Is MJ doing okay?”

Peter nods. “Her due date’s in two weeks. All smooth sailing so far as the doctors say.”

“Awesome.” Miles half-smiles. “So...you had a question for me?”

“Yeah. I just need...one more hope boost before this thing really gets started. Feel free to tell me to kick rocks back to my own dimension if you don’t want to talk about it, but...” He gestures to the gravestone. “This Peter. Your uncle. What was it like to lose them, because of their line of work? I’ve made my life so damn risky, am I doing something wrong bringing a baby into it with me?”

Miles is silent for a long time. “I don’t have a solid yes or no to that. I...I’ll always wish things were different for them both. That there was something I could have done to save them. If I let myself think about it too hard, or too long, I’ll lose myself in it.”

Peter winces. But then Miles goes on.

“I’ve just got to tell myself, what happened, happened. Can’t change the past. The best thing I can do, for them and for me, is keep moving forward. I miss them like crazy and I wish they were still around, I always will. But more than anything, I remember the lessons that they taught me. That they were good men, that they cared about me. It’s the same with you and your uncle, right?”

“I...I do remember him that way. Yeah. But I was going into college when Uncle Ben died. I wasn’t...just a kid. I chose this life, MJ chose to stay with me, our kid didn’t ask for this kind of life.”

Miles shrugs. “I worry about my dad every day. He’s worked a dangerous job in a dangerous city since before I was born. I don’t hold it against him, because I know why he does it. I’m one of the people he’s trying to protect, after all.”

“Yeah, but — ”

“Peter. Come on.” Miles turns to look at him then, with a knowing smile. “You don’t know all of what you’re doing. No one does. What matters is that you’re a good man, and that’s what’ll be most important to your kids, whatever happens: that their dad loves them and would do anything for them.”

Peter feels the same rush of pride and affection for him that he had back at the reactor, along with a sense of security around his heart. He’s surprised to find himself laughing. “You’re the best, kid, you know that?”

Miles’ grin broadens cheekily. “Oh, I know. I try.”

He wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. “Yeah, just keep trying, future godfather.”

It takes a second for the word to hit Miles, and then he spins around to stare at him with huge eyes. “I — their godfather?! Me?”

Peter laughs. “No one out there’d be better than you. Only the best for my kid.”

~0~

After the twenty-seven most stressful hours of their lives, Mira Penelope Watson-Parker emerges into the world with a long, indignant screech. 

Illuminated in the noon sun, in the soft yellow hospital room, both his wife and daughter look like angels in Peter’s eyes. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to cry. “You did amazing, hon.”

MJ grins. “Helps to have a husband whose hands I could squeeze as hard as I needed. C’mere and hold her. I’m sure she wants to meet her dad.”

Peter tries so very hard not to tremble as MJ passes their blanket-wrapped daughter into his arms. He’s never felt anything so delicate in his life. 

“She’s...so tiny,” is all he can manage.

Mira’s hair is her mother’s bright red, just like in his dream. But the dark hazel eyes staring curiously up at him are all his own. 

Peter smiles at her, cradling her close. He really would do anything for her, he knows that already.

“Hey, sweetheart. Hey. Dad’s here.”

#into the spider verse #spiderman #peter b parker #miles morales #into the spiderverse #kaen's fics

[justheretobreakthings]

Keith’s Scaly Secret

Written for @gentronlegendaryfriendships

Day Two: Wings AU | Adopting a Pet Together

Word Count: 2,933 Characters: Keith & Shiro Read on AO3 My house, my rules, my ko-fi

Story Summary:

Due to an upcoming dorm inspection at the Galaxy Garrison, Shiro learns that Keith has been hiding some unexpected contraband.

There was a lot about his time as a young cadet at the Galaxy Garrison that Shiro often found himself nostalgic for, but dorm life wasn’t one of them. There were times nowadays when he spent the afternoon studying with Keith and the library was too crowded, so it was usually easier to just hang out in his dorm than go all the way to Shiro’s apartment, but those times were also good reminders of Shiro’s distaste for the academy’s dorms. They were dim and cramped, the mattress on the bed was thin and the desk chairs were stiff and had terrible back support. And, although of course Shiro would never mention it out loud to him, over the last few weeks Keith’s dorm had started to take on a faint smell that Shiro couldn’t quite identify, but that didn’t seem to be from dirty laundry or old food the way most other smelly dorms were.

All in all, not Shiro’s preferred place to spend a Saturday afternoon, but with the amount of stress that upcoming linear algebra test was giving Keith, it was something he was more than willing to endure for the sake of helping his protégé get some studying done. It still was a bit of a relief, though, when they finally finished covering all the practice problems they could get and deemed the study session complete, and Keith announced that he was ready for dinner.

“Sounds good to me,” Shiro said, moving to stand from where he had been seated cross-legged on Keith’s bed and then stretching out his back. “You wanna go to the cafeteria, or would you be up for going out to eat tonight?”

“Either,” Keith said with a shrug. He shook out his hand, no doubt cramped from all the writing he’d been doing in the past couple of hours, and stood too as he closed his books. “I could go out.”

“Great,” Shiro said. He glanced at his watch before continuing, “We should probably be heading out soon anyway. Less awkward to not be in the dorm when they do the inspection, so it's definitely a good night to go out to eat. You know what, I’ve been craving onion rings, wanna go to that place across from - ” He paused as he noticed that Keith had frozen in place, eyes going wide. “Keith? What’s up?”

“What - what do you mean, the inspection?” Keith stammered.

Shiro frowned, taking a moment to realize what he meant, then he sucked in a breath through his teeth and stopped just short of slapping himself in the forehead. “Crap. Forgot we’re not supposed to say anything to you ahead of time. It’s nothing to worry about, they just go through and check each dorm to make sure there’s nothing dangerous, no contraband, and nothing’s been broken. They’re not going to get onto little things like laundry or bed not being made, so you’ll be fine.”

Keith, however, did not look reassured. “They can’t do that! That’s an invasion of privacy! It’s - they can’t - why didn’t they warn us?!”

Shiro’s frown deepened. “They said in the registration paperwork that living in the academy includes dorm checks. And it’s in the student handbook.”

Keith bit at his lip, eyes darting around the room as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I, um, I don’t - I don’t think I can go out to eat tonight.”

“Keith…” Shiro said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

At the best of times, Keith was an awful liar, and this time his ‘nothing’ answer was even less believable than usual. Immediately Shiro’s thoughts started casting about, trying to take a guess as to what Keith could possibly be hiding. He had that knife of his, but he’d entrusted Shiro to keep it in his apartment for him. Had he stolen it back? It wasn’t as if Keith hadn’t stolen before. After all, the very day they had met…

Shiro quickly shook that thought out of his head. Keith had grown a lot in the time Shiro had known him, he hadn’t lashed out that way in ages, and it wasn’t fair for Shiro to assume Keith had reverted to old habits like that. Still, he needed an answer. “Keith,” he said, trying his best to make his voice stern without sounding angry or threatening. “I’m not going to judge you for whatever you’ve got here. I promise. But you have to abide by the academy rules while you’re here the Garrison, and the staff is going to enforce those rules. I can’t do anything about that, but I can help you with whatever you need right now. Okay? So what’s going on, Keith?”

For several seconds more Keith chewed silently at his lip. Then, after a deep breath, he walked to his bed and lifted up the blanket that hung over the side of the mattress and down to the floor.

Shiro’s eyes widened.

The area under the bed was hollow, meant for students to use as storage space. Most cadets would fill the space with folded stacks of clothes, crates of books, extra bedding, and the like. When Shiro had helped Keith move into his dorm, he’d had very few personal possessions to speak of. Shiro was pretty sure that space beneath the bed had been left empty.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

Instead, a large, clear, rectangular tank stood below the bed, a little landscape inside, dirt and rocks and shrubs and water. A lamp, currently turned off, stood aimed into the tank past the chickenwire mesh that covered the top, its cord plugged into the outlet in the wall near the pillow.

And dozing on a rock in the middle of the tank... was a lizard. No more than half a foot long, speckled with scales in shades of brown up to the tail, where the brown stopped and turned to black and white stripes. The lizard turned to face Shiro when the blanket was lifted, fixing him with tiny beady eyes and darting out its tongue.

It took Shiro a while to find his voice. “Keith,” he finally said. “Why do you have a lizard?”

“I’m sorry!” Keith cried, and when Shiro looked back up at him, he was surprised to see the agitation on his face, and the tremor in his hands as he wrung them together. “I found her in the student garage and I took her outside and set her loose but then when I went back there again later she was back and I didn’t want to just leave her there because she might have gotten run over or one of the other students might have found her and hurt her so I took her back to my dorm and she seemed to like it here so - ”

“Hey, hey,” Shiro said, lifting his hands and making a calming gesture toward Keith. “You need to breathe, okay? I’m not mad at you, I’m not. I just - I’m - I’m a little shocked. I didn’t expect that.”

“Please don’t turn me in,” Keith said. He moved his hands to start wringing them in the fabric of his shirt. “I was just trying to help her, I wasn’t doing anything bad, I swear.”

“Her?” Shiro repeated.

Keith nodded. “Um, the, uh - for zebra-tailed lizards, the males have these black markings on the side and blue ones on their stomach. The females don’t.”

“Ah,” Shiro said. “You really did your homework for this thing, didn’t you?”

Keith nodded again, and Shiro got down on his knees to get a closer look at the tank. The lizard stuck her tongue out at him again as his face neared her, and she darted off the rock to hide among some grass instead. “Where did you get all this?”

“Just brought the dirt and plants and stuff in from outside. And I’ve been catching bugs for food.”

“What about the tank and the lamp?”

Keith didn’t answer, and Shiro squinted closely at the lamp. “Hang on, are these from the student bio lab?”

“They weren’t using them!” Keith snapped. “The tank was empty when I found it and the lamp wasn’t even working right, I had to fix it myself! It’s not like anyone even noticed the stuff was gone!”

“Did you get permission to take the tank and the lamp, Keith?”

“I - ” He hesitated, and Shiro turned back toward him to see his arms crossed again, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “If I’d asked someone, they would have said no.”

“Well…” Shiro sighed. “Well, yeah, they definitely would have. You know you’re not allowed to keep a pet in your dorm.”

“But I - ” Keith’s chin trembled. “I was doing good, I swear. I did all the research and I’ve been feeding her well and - and I wasn’t gonna do anything to her. I wasn’t gonna hurt her or use her for a prank or anything, I swear. I promise, I was being good. I was being responsible. I promise. I just - I just wanted to help her.”

Shiro frowned as he straightened up, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith? Hey, look at me.” It took a moment, but Keith complied, turning dewy eyes up toward Shiro. “This has nothing to do with that. Okay? I don’t think that you were going to hurt her, and I’m sure you’re a very responsible pet owner. I know you meant well, Keith, I know you did. But there are other reasons it’s not allowed. The lizard could escape the tank and get lost in the Garrison, or make a mess. Or that lamp could have overheated when you had it on and burned your bed. And you’re supposed to be focusing on your classes and your flying, not on taking care of an animal. There’s also the small matter of you taking things out of the lab without permission…”

Keith chewed at his lip silently for a long moment before he spoke. “Am I gonna get kicked out?” he asked, voice cracking on the words.

Shiro shushed him lightly, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. Tell you what, I can get this taken care of, okay? We can save going out to eat for tomorrow, and tonight I’ll sort out the whole, uh, lizard situation. It’s gonna be fine. But we have to get the lizard out of your dorm, and we have to get the tank and the lamp back to the lab where it belongs. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. “I guess.”

“Okay.” He gave Keith’s shoulder one more pat before moving to slide the tank out from under the bed. He unplugged the lamp and laid it on top, then hauled the tank into his arms and got to his feet with a grunt. “You got any extra blanket or anything in here? Something we can cover this up with?”

Keith went to his closet, pulled out an oversized towel, and helped drape it over the tank, blocking its contents from view. “Thanks,” Keith said. “I’m, um - I’m sorry. About all of this.”

“I know, it’s okay,” Shiro said, giving him a soft smile. “I’m not mad, Keith. You’re not in trouble. But no more stealing from the labs, okay? And no more secret pets. Can you promise me that?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “Promise.”

“Good. Take it easy, Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow for that dinner, okay?”

Keith nodded, and Shiro gave him one last smile before opening the door and stepping into the hall and out of sight.

True to his word, Shiro was right on time the following day to pick Keith up for their promised meal. Keith was quiet as he climbed into the passenger seat of Shiro’s car, forlorn as he stared out the window at the buildings they passed.

“Everything go okay for you last night?” Shiro asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Mm-hm,” Keith said.

“You pass your dorm inspection?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. You know, I still need to give that towel of yours back to you, don’t I?” Keith replied with a non-committal grunt. “Tell you what, we can swing by my apartment before we eat and I can grab it for you.”

Keith raised a brow at him. “Or you could wait until next time you’re at the dorms.”

“Eh, I’d rather do it now. Don’t want to risk forgetting it. It’s fine, it’s on the way, it’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

“... Okay,” Keith said. He frowned at Shiro for a moment longer, but when Shiro didn’t say anything else or take his eyes off the road, he slowly turned back to gazing out the window.

A few minutes later they were parked in the lot outside of Shiro’s building, and Shiro turned the car off, unbuckled, and stepped out. He didn’t close the door behind him, though, and instead peeked back into the car. “You coming?” he asked.

“You’re just getting the towel, right?” said Keith. “Why do I need to come up?”

“Well, don’t want you overheating in the car. Come on. For my peace of mind.”

Keith sighed, but he unbuckled and climbed out of the car too with no further argument, and Shiro smiled as he led them up the stairs to the apartment he and Adam shared. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping in first and then standing aside so Keith could see. Halfway past the threshold, Keith froze.

“Shiro?” he said. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Shiro said, his grin broadening as Keith stepped slowly into the apartment. The faded loveseat that used to be up against the far wall had been moved further out into the den, and in its place stood a solid black table topped by a glass terrarium, fifty gallons at least if not bigger. It had the works: a substrate heater along the bottom frame, UVB lamp at the top, ventilated windows, a full biome inside bursting with cacti and succulents and various colors of dirt and rock surrounding a crystal-clear oasis in the center.

And resting atop a decorative cow skull, poking her head up from between the fronds of a ponytail palm that was giving her shade, was a very familiar zebra-tailed lizard.

“How did you - why did you - ?” Keith stammered.

“Well, see, Adam and I have been thinking about getting a pet for a while,” Shiro said, strolling toward the terrarium as Keith trailed behind in awe. “Initially, I actually had wanted to adopt a cat, but Adam’s allergic. And he grew up with mynah birds so we thought maybe we could get one of those, but it turns out this building doesn’t allow birds since they tend to cause noise problems. A lizard, though - they don’t make any noise, they don’t have any fur to set off allergies. It just made sense.”

“When did you get all this stuff?”

“Bought it last night, finished setting it all up this morning. Then I moved the lizard into the new tank, cleaned out the one you’d been using, and dropped that off back at the bio lab before I picked you up. She likes it, I think. She seemed to be really getting into exploring.”

Keith peered down into the terrarium with wide eyes. “So - so she’s officially yours now? Yours and Adam’s?”

“And yours,” Shiro said. When Keith turned curious eyes on him, he shrugged. “Well, you were the one who started taking care of her first, right? So I’m definitely going to need your help with her, especially when I’m not around. Besides, I think she missed you.”

“Can I?” Keith asked, gesturing to the latch on the screen top.

“Go ahead,” Shiro said.

Keith opened up the latch and set his hand down into the dirt next to the cow skull decoration. The lizard took a moment to gaze at it before scampering onto his palm, and Keith grinned as he pulled his arm out and she began skittering along his arm.

“By the way,” Shiro added as he watched, “Now that we’re official pet owners, you should really come up with a name for her. Got any suggestions?”

“Lizard,” Keith answered without hesitation.

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Keith looked away from the lizard long enough to give Shiro an exasperated glance, as if this was something obvious that Shiro had no business being confused by. “Because she’s a lizard.”

“I, uh, I guess I can’t argue with that. Okay, Lizard it is.”

For a few moments more he contented himself simply watching as Keith let Lizard clamber around him, crawling up and down his arm and at one point slipping into his shirt collar and then reemerging in the cuff of his sleeve. Finally, though, his stomach gave a little rumble of impatience, and Shiro tapped Keith’s shoulder for his attention. “We’ve still got that dinner ahead of us,” he said. “You cool with taking a break for now, coming back later?”

“All right,” Keith said. He guided Lizard back into his hand and placed her back in the terrarium, letting his hand hover inside the tank for a few seconds as though reluctant to part with her before latching it shut again and turning around.

Shiro grinned and thumped him on the back. “No worries, kiddo. She’ll be right here waiting for us when we get back.”

“I know,” Keith said with a nod. He paused a moment, then with a hastily muttered, “Thanks,” he gave Shiro a quick one-armed hug before darting out to lead the way back down to the car. Shiro followed him with a smile.

#gentronweek #vldgen #keith #shiro #this one's just fluff #my writing #fic: keith's scaly secret

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Stardew valley Imagine. Reader/ Sebastian (?)

-Before we start, oce again I remind you that English is not my main language, but I am doing my best.

“I didn’t think you were so tired to the point of passing out in that sofa.” Sebastian says while taking a drag of his cigarette. “If I knew we would have come earlier.”

“Aw... I shouldn’t have drink that beer.” you say, feeling sick to your stomach.

“If you are going to throw up, please do it in some bush and not near me.”

You didn’t even bother answering him. Next thing you knew, you were kneeling down barfing behind a tree. You were not very used to drinking.

“Sorry.” you say when you can finally talk.

“What about?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs and helps you stand up.

“You are... different.” he says.

“I know, I am weird.”

He laughs.

“You think you are weird? My best friend is the weirdest person I know. Being different in a town like this is not a bad thing you know?” he says.

You stare at him for a while too long, he blushes showing is uncomfort.

“You didn’t pass as a supportive type at first.” you say.  

“Don’t get used to it.” he says smirking at you.

When you arrive the farm you can see that the seeds you planted in the morning had turned into little saplings already. You shake your head, sure that it is a prank of your dizzy mind, but they are there.

“Sebastian, can you see those or am I really wasted?” you ask him, pointing at the saplings.

“I can see them, but I am also pretty sure you ARE wasted.” He mocks you.

“How can it be?! I planted them this morning!” you look at him completely astonished.

“So what?” he asks.

“They were not supposed to grow like this… I mean, this is crazy!”

“Oh really? I don’t understand much about farming.” he says while getting another cigarette from his pocket. “I will be going now, ok? Thanks for the game, I had fun. Destroying Sam every time was starting to get boring.

As he goes, you sit down on your porch staring at those little saplings.

…

You have a dream.

You are playing with your cousins by the mountain river. A younger Sam and a younger Sebastian are there too. Sebastian is ginger back then, but Sam’s hair still challenges gravity somehow. There is a third boy that is not from your family, he is brunette, very alethic and seems to like you a lot.

Sebastian challenges you all: who can go up a tree by the shore faster. You are the first to run there, before anyone even agrees to the bet. He doesn’t like it and runs as fast as he can, followed by the other boy and your cousins. Sam kind of gets left behind.

You start climbing the tree so fast, you didn’t even remember being so agile, you feel like a feral squirl. The other boy is right behind you, he even tries to hold your foot and tickle you, but you don’t give up. As you laugh together, Sebastian gets to pass you, but you quickly follow after him.

Somehow you manage to get to the top first, Sebastian is all sweaty and puffing. The other boy comes after and congratulates you on the win. He kisses you on the cheek and you get all red about it. Sebastian doesn’t like it, actually he seems really jealous. You think it is about you having won and start mocking on him.

You call him gingerbread man. He hates it and pushes you. Because of your weigh the branch you fall on cracks and you fall on the river. You can see both Sebastian and the other boy reaching towards you.

Your head hits a rock and you get unconscious. But actually, you just can't move, you still can see... everyone is jumping on the water after you, but you feel like you are nowhere to be found. Maybe that is it, your short life has come to an end.

You hear a funny sound and turn your head to the left. You see an apple.

The apple has two eyes and pink cheeks.  

There are others, they are all around you, making that funny sound and lifting you up from the bottom of the lake.

Next thing you see, a hand grabs your wrist, lifted by the little apple spirits. You are pulled out of the water by Sebastian, he has almost drowned too. He is crying and doesn’t stop apologizing, but you aren’t able to say anything to him, the words don’t come out.

You spend some days in the hospital, all your vitals are ok, but you keep seeing those little apple spirits around. The adults are afraid you had too bad of a concussion and no one believes in you... except for... grandpa?  

He says you were saved by the forest spirits, but your mother and father tell him not to incentive these kind of thoughts in you. Eventually, they stop taking you to Stardew valley.

The longer you are away, the more you forget about your time there.

When you wake up, the dream seems like a shadow, but you feel very different.

…

They were even bigger! From one night to the other, the saplings have grown as much as they should in a week.

“Am I going insane?” you ask yourself.

You water them and put some extra fertilizer, then you decide to go to the city and buy some food for the farm. When you arrive there, you see Mayor Lewis in front of a big old house behind the square.

“Oh, hi y/n!” he calls you, as you two seem to be the only people around. “Come here a second.”

You feel a little annoyed. Is it going to be like this now? Every day that amount of interaction in your life... how can you handle it?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis.” you say.

“Call me Lewis.” he says with a gentle smile. “Do you remember this place?”

You take a look at it. Everything is so broken and old you can swear it is probably haunted. You can’t seem to remember anything like it.

“I see.” he says. “You were so young, but you, your cousins and your grandpa used to come here. This is the community center of Pelican town. Well... it used to be. Come on in.”

You follow him inside and it looks even worse than the outside.  Bindweed has taken over the walls, there isn’t a single piece of wood that is not broken or rotten and there is even a tree fully grown in the corner of the main hall, but even that tree seems to be decaying.

“This used to be the heart of the town, everyone in the community gathered here for parties, birthdays and even city events.” he says. “But as time went by... it seems like these kinds of things are not as important nowadays.”  

He starts a discourse about how people would rather watch TV instead of gathering with the community, but you can’t follow because... there is an apple jumping by the window.

“Y/n, what’s with you?” the mayor asks turning to the place you are looking.

It immediately disappears.

“It was...” you are about to tell him about the apple but, why bother? “I think I saw a mouse.”

“This place is probably infested by mice, it has been closed for so long.” He says and sighs. “It is sad to see it like this. But I think that is what happens to old things, see Paradise farm, for example. Good that now you are there to rebuild it. Too bad for this place, there aren’t people willing to do it.”

“Did you ask people?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Unfortunately, every time we set to rebuild everyone was busy with something else. Eventually, I think everyone just gave up.” the mayor let go a long sigh. “And since Joja Mart came to town, they keep making offers to buy it and turn it into a warehouse. I am thinking about selling it by the end of this year... the city could use the money.”

You look around once more. It does seem sad to let ANYTHING that once was good end up in Joja corporation’s hands. Wasn’t this what happened to you.  

You feel a strange connection to the place.

“Anyway, I must be going now. Have some mayor duties to accomplish. Thanks for giving an old man some time to be nostalgic.” he says and chuckles. “I will leave this place open if you want to take a look, maybe you can find some of you Paradise kid’s old toys in the crafts room.”

It is weird because you wouldn’t usually do something like that, but as the mayor went away, you started exploring the rooms and they seemed to bring you back some blurry memories. Maybe you played with your cousins in that corner. Maybe you attended someone’s birthday and ate cake by that old table. Maybe you sat with your grandpa in front of that big fish tank and he told you stories about fishing.

You hear a sound and it immediately makes you turn to the decaying tree in the corner of the main hall. Your heartbeat increases as you see not one, but many apple spirits jumping around and waving at you. They seem to be talking but you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell is going on with me?” you say, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head.

They are still there.  

One of them, a green one makes you a sign for you to follow it Still uncertain, you do, and it takes you to a golden scroll in the middle of the crafts room. You see there is something written there, but you can’t quite understand it.

“Junimos?” is the only thing you can discern.

The little apple starts jumping and making that funny sound as if it is agreeing to you.

“You are Junimos?”

It seems even more excited. The more it makes those funny sounds, the more it seems like it is saying your name.

“You know me, isn’t it?”

It seems to agree.

“You saved me that day.” you say. “So either everyone was wrong and I didn’t go crazy back then, or I am going crazy right now.”

“You are certainly not going crazy, my dear.”

You yell as you listen to a voice come from behind you and a figure comes from the shadows of the corner of the room. A purple bearded wizard dressed up in a fine robe walks towards you.

“Don’t be afraid. I am Rasmodius, the Wizard, keeper of the secrets of the forest, master of the elemental’s knowledge... you get the picture.”

“Where did you come from?!” you yell as you try to step back, but you end up tripping and falling.

“I have been paying close attention to you for the past couple of days. You are the one whose arrival was foreseen by the valley. The one connected to the forest powers, the one to change the valleys destiny... well you, my friend, are a hero to become.”

“What the fuck is going on here? Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I dreaming in a comma?” you star hyperventilating. “I have gone crazy, that is it. I finally lost it!”

“Please, calm down.” the wizard says as he can see you going pale.

“Oh my, what if I never left Zuzu city? I must still be in bed, I need to wake up to go to work, that is it! I am not crazy I am just sleeping...”

The little Junimo beside up jumps and slaps your face with his little stick hand and it hurts way more than it seems to be possible.

“What the...” you say, but it seems to take you away from your anxious thoughts.

“As I was saying...” the Wizard cleans his throat. “You were brought back to this valley to help it heal from the many hazards it has been imposed by both mankind and witchcraft. Also, I have seen, to change the destiny of the people who live here.”

“Me?” you screech with unbelief. “Man, I can’t barely fix my own life.”

The wizard chuckles.

“Well, sometimes to help another one is the best way of helping oneself.” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” you say rubbing your temples.

“You will understand when the time is right.” the wizard replies. “For now, drink this.”

He extended to you a cup filled with a green liquid.

“You are kidding right?” you say.

“No, you are supposed to drink. These are the ingredients from the forest, it will help you understand the language of the elementals.” he says.

“I am not drinking it.”  

The Junimo beside you starts jumping and puffing in a way to demonstrate impatience and he seems so angry that you take the cup from the wizard’s hand and, after taking a nauseated look at the content, you drink it.

You feel dizzy and things start moving a lot slower. You can see the memories of yourself as a kid running among trees, playing in the river, collecting and eating savage berries. You see yourself playing with animals, riding a horse, rolling in the mud with grandpa's pig.

You see the faces of some people from the town. You are beside them, helping them and doing nice things, things you had never thought you would do in your life. You feel happy to help, you feel like a part of something. And then... there is this someone you suddenly see yourself kiss.

“If you might ever need me... meet me in the towers west Cindersap forest.” you hear the Wizard’s voice.

As you open your eyes, you see the image of a man and a girl, both with glasses in front of you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” you hear Maru’s voice coming from the distance. “Oh my Yoba, what a scare you gave me!”

“What? Where am I?” you say slowly sitting down and looking around.

“You are in the clinic. Maru found you passed out near the fountain. You have symptoms of an insulation, perhaps you have been working too hard in the farm.” the man says, adjusting his glasses. “I am doctor Harvey.”

“Insulation? Last thing I remember I was drinking that green thing from the wizard...”

Both Maru and the doctor stare at you, looking concerned.

“I mean, I probably had a bad dream while passed out. Thanks for bringing me Maru, sorry for the trouble.” you say.

“No problem, I am stronger than I look.” she says. “Now lay down, you are taking intravenous medicine, you seem to be very poorly nourished. Have you been skipping meals?”

She gently pushes you into laying down.

“I forget to eat sometimes.”

“That is very hazardous! Even more being a farmer and working a lot in the sun and with so much physical effort!” says Harvey, looking very angry.

He gives you a full lecture about the importance of eating healthy and says that he is going to give you some supplements. You are actually worried about how you are going to pay for the treatment.

…-

Next part here:

Credits for the pose reference: https://snuffysbox.tumblr.com/post/160658875287/have-another-angsty-draw-your-otp-%E1%95%95-3-%E1%95%97-please 

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew #stardew valley fanart #stardew valley Sebastian #sdv #SnufkinWasHere #stardew valley rasmodius

[winchester-fantasies]

Backtrack - Borrowed Time: Chapter 1

Backtrack Masterlist

Series Summary: What if you were the one Dean came to instead of Lisa? Rewrite of “Swan Song” and some of S6.

Word Count: 1310

Warnings: angst, some swearing

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

A/N: I know this a really short chapter, but think of it as a kind of prologue to Part Two! Hope you enjoy. ❤❤ Chapter 1′s song: My Body by Eliza Shaddad.

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

“‘Night, Mandy!” you called to your coworker as she walked down the sidewalk. She turned around, raising her hand in a quick wave, continuing to walk backwards before turning forwards once again. 

You turned your key in the lock before shaking the door gently. Satisfied that it was properly locked, you threw your keys into your backpack before hoisting it over your shoulder and heading towards home. 

The night was quiet, the only sounds being those of dogs barking in the distance, an occasional car driving past, or a plane passing overhead. It was warm, too, humidity enveloping you as sweat trickled down your back and fireflies danced in the waning light. It was a perfect summer night, you thought. Much like a certain moonlit night filled with passion on a clifftop overlooking the sea. But that had been ten years ago. 

You sighed heavily as you tried to get your mind off the past as it so easily tended to do. You were twenty-nine now. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about the boy who had captured your heart and left it broken. But it was impossible. Dean was etched into your mind like a tattoo. 

You rounded the corner, turning down the sidewalk that led you to your apartment. You walked up the stone steps leading to your front door, unlocking it and stepping into the darkness of your home. You flipped on the light, hanging your keys on the hooks by the door.

You walked to the dining room, depositing your backpack on the table before heading to the kitchen. Taking out the moscato from the fridge, you poured yourself a glass of the red liquid. You were feeling a little nostalgic and that brought all the memories of the past that you had so desperately tried to run from.

After Dean had left, you’d waited around for years until you finally accepted he wasn’t coming back. But living in the same town where you’d experienced so many firsts with him was like a slap in the face. You could barely walk out of your house without being reminded of him. 

So two days after your twenty-second birthday you packed a bag, left your house at three in the morning, and never looked back. You traveled from state to state, searching for a place you could settle down and try to piece your heart back together. But no place really felt like home - not if Dean wasn’t there.

It wasn’t until you reached Crested Butte, Colorado that you finally found a place you could settle down; a place that called to your battered heart. You got yourself a small apartment, applied for several different jobs, and finally landed one at a local art gallery. You hadn’t realized you had a passion for art until you started working there and began to dabble a little in painting.

You hadn’t really made a name for yourself. You never went to college like Leah. You’d remained a nomad, and you hated the looks your parents always sent your way. They never said anything, but you could tell they were disappointed in how you’d turned out. You weren’t Leah.

Leah had finished college and was now a big time attorney. She had married an Ivy League dude right out of college and had two kids. Now Brad was running for state representative and they had another kid on the way. Leah had always been the golden child, and she still was.

As much as you wanted to please your parents and make them proud, the need to be your own person was much stronger. That’s one of the reasons you hadn’t gone home in nearly seven years. You couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in their eyes and the lecture you knew would eventually come. 

But you felt you’d finally found your niche in art, and you were pretty good at it, too, if the amount of money you were making from selling your work was any indication. You were truly happy and for the first time in your life you felt content. Well…. Mostly content. There was still the part of your heart that yearned for a companion; someone you could come home to and share a life with. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried, heaven knows you had. But it just never seemed to pan out. You had a long list of shitty boyfriends and failed relationships. You had only had one good guy in your life; he’d been the love of your life, and even he had left you….

You heaved a sigh, setting your glass down on the countertop with more force than you’d intended, the wine sloshing out of the glass. You needed to get your mind off the past. There wasn’t anything you could do to change it, and you were only hurting yourself further by reopening old wounds. But how could you when Dean had been woven into the very fabric of your heart?

You ran your hands through your windswept hair before making your way to the spare bedroom that you’d converted to a makeshift art studio. It was by no means perfect, but it suited your needs. 

Flipping on the light, you made your way to the far wall where a canvas sat on a large easel. You smiled and studied the painting you’d been working on for several weeks now. It didn’t usually take you long to finish an art piece, whipping it out in a matter of mere days. But this one was special. Maybe it was the reason you couldn’t forget that summer of ‘98, you thought as you stared at the cliff overlooking a cove. 

You sighed, picking up your painting supplies and starting on the low-hanging moon. It sometimes surprised you how much of that fateful night you remembered. Most people would have forgotten it long ago, but it was still so imprinted in your memory that sometimes you still felt the way he felt as he hovered over you, the way your bodies melded together, the love you felt, and the way the salty breeze caressed your sweaty skin as he gave himself over to you completely. 

You felt the awakening arousal course through your veins at the memory and you shook yourself. As much as you were addicted to revisiting the past, you had to admit just how stupid you both had been. You’d been so young and in love, but now looking back, you were shocked and thankful at just how lucky you’d gotten that night, especially since he hadn’t used protection and you sure as hell hadn’t been on the pill. You were already hurting when he left, and you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if you’d also had a kid. 

You had just put the finishing touches on the sky when a loud knock sounded on your door. You frowned. It was late. None of your friends would be making a call, especially this late at night.

You set down your supplies, wiping your hands on the paint-covered cloth beside you before making your way to the front door. You cautiously approached it, another thudding knock sounding out in the silence. You glanced out the peephole. The head of a man was visible through the hole, but you couldn’t make out anything definite.

You stepped away, worrying your lip. You didn’t usually answer the door to strangers. You still weren’t an outgoing person, plus nowadays you couldn’t really trust anyone. You started to turn away from the door, but something stopped you. You didn’t know what it was, but you found yourself going back to the door and opening it.

You peeked out before swinging it open wide. You stepped back, your jaw hanging slack. “Oh, my god,” you breathed, your stomach dropping and goosebumps rolling across your skin. 

“Dean?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

Everything:

@divadinag @mogaruke @calaofnoldor @defenderrosetyler @coffeebooksandfandom @emoryhemsworth @satans-0-spawn @fandom-princess-forevermore @titty-teetee @gallifreyansass @swiftrogerswinchesterthot @hollymac79 @codename-nyx @kalesrebellion

Dean Girls:

@weepingwillowphoenix @akshi8278 @thesuicidalflower @adoptdontshoppets

Backtrack:

@hazel-eyed-hunter @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @wickidlady @messrrs-prongs @tranquility-or-chaos @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx​ @pansexualgrapes​

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction series #backtrack #borrowed time

[keigos-dove]

Icarus: Chapter 3

A/N: I decided to keep it soft and nostalgic in a way. So no real sadness this time around. So enjoy some soft childhood memories.

|Tags:| @sparkncharge​ @secondhand-trash​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @tooloudarts​ @gracie-the-bored​ @redbeanteax​ @kissthescorpion​ @posivnegasould​ @kirishimas-titties​ @adoringwords​ @ikinabi​ @torrpe​ @theotakumama​

Hawks POV

Sitting on the steps to his old home brings back lots of memories. Memories he wishes to forget. 

Keigo’s old home has been abandoned for years. Nobody bought the old home after his mom died. He hasn’t been in his old home since his mom died.

After a bit of reminiscing of the past, Keigo finally stood up and walked across the street.

He was going to visit Y/N’s parents.

He came to visit them often after his parents passed. They took him in like he was their own, especially after Y/N disappeared. It gave them some comfort knowing their child’s friend was looked after sometimes.

And he didn’t really mind. It gave him comfort as well. He felt better knowing that he was looking after Y/N’s parents. 

It’s what you would have wanted.  

He’s been coming by here much more since he took on the job of a double-agent. He lost you, he could bear the weight of responsibility if something happened to your parents. 

He walked down the familiar stone path that leads to your door. He notices the fresh dirt and flowers in the flower beds. Your mom much have done some gardening in the past few days. He notices the huge fruit tree in the corner of the yard. 

That was the tree the two of you would jump out of and practice flying. You both would climb up, pick a fruit, and fly down to the ground. You had many good memories under and in that fruit tree.

He finally makes it to the steps. Old and cracked with time. He remembers sitting on these steps too. You both would sit here and eat ice cream from the ice cream truck that went by every afternoon. 

There were many good times here. He misses them.

He misses you.

He knocks on the door, finally. Your mom is the first to answer it. 

“Keigo, dear! Welcome back!” she welcomes with open arms. “How are you?”

“I’m well L/N-san. How about you?” Keigo asks with a smile. Walking into your mom's embrace. 

“I’m wonderful. I’m so happy that you visit so often nowadays. I look forward to your visits at this point.” she says welcoming into the familiar home.

“Well, I do try to make time to come by,” he says honestly.

“For your sake? Or for theirs?” your dad asks seriously, walking into the room.

Keigo is speechless for a moment. It caught him off guard. He never expected your dad to ask a question like this. Finally, he answers.

“If I'm being honest, both. It makes me feel better knowing that you're both looked after. I know my little dove would want that.” 

“Little Dove?” your mother asks. “Is that what you called them?”

Keigo gets embarrassed suddenly. The nickname slipped out, he hasn't even said your nickname in years.

“Yeah. It's a nickname I gave them. They were my Little Dove and I was their Pretty Bird.” Keigo said sheepishly.

“It's cute. I'm so glad they had someone like you growing up.” your father says. 

He spends a few hours there with your parents. He almost wanted to tell them about his new job as a double agent. But he decided against it, he couldn't risk your parents’ safety or jeopardize the chance of you being alive.

He even stayed for dinner. While your parents were downstairs preparing the meal, Keigo was up in your old room. 

The walls were blue, like the sky. And had clouds painted on the ceiling. Paper cranes hung from the ceiling as a decoration. 

Not much has changed in your room. The same bed, same blankets. Same clothes that hung in your closet. Same photos of you, you with your family, there was even one of you and him sitting on your nightstand. It's like your parents never even came here once you were gone.

Swept in his memory, he heard giggles again. Your giggles.

He remembers making forts in your room with your blankets. Making nests under them to snuggle into Keigo's warmth. 

He remembers giving you little kisses to the crown of your head once you fell asleep in his embrace.

He remembers collecting fallen feathers and having a tickle fight with them.

He was so caught up in himself again he didn't realize your father standing at the door.

Keigo jumps in surprise and got nervous again. “Heh, what’s needed?” he asks.

“Dinners ready if you want some.” your father states. “Hey, kid?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You loved them, didn't you?” your father asks.

Keigo pauses for a moment. 

Does he?

He doesn't hesitate when he tells your father one answer.

“I do. I always have.” 

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia imagine #my hero academia imagine #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #wing hero hawks #takami keigo #bnha keigo #mha keigo takami #keigo takami x reader

[lovemesomesurveys]

How many times each morning do you press the snooze button? I try and set alarms cause I think I might end up sleeping until like 5PM or later otherwise, but I typically end up just turning them off or hitting snooze.

What time of day do you like to shower? At night.

When you go out to eat, what sides do your order with your food? French fries.

What do you spend more money than necessary on? Damn Hot Topic and BoxLunch are always getting new clothes and accessories and having sales and yeah, they trap me too often. I’m about to get Halloween (the movie) leggings and a Michael Myers shirt lol.

What video game or computer game are you best at? Mario Bros games and The Sims.

How do you normally come across new music? TikTok nowadays. And Spotify.

What do you keep your keys on? They’re on a keychain.

Is your favorite color different than your favorite color to wear?  I love pastels, rose gold, coral, and mint green, but I don’t typically wear or even have clothes in those colors.

Do you buy books or get them from the library? I’ve been getting books through the Kindle app for the past few years.

What section of the food pyramid do you neglect the most? Fruits and vegetables :X And fish, but ew.

Do you check PostSecret weekly?  I never go on there, but I follow the account on Twitter so I see them that way.

What do you use your stovetop for most? Ramen.

Do you notice the impact of the economic recession in the US? I mean, yeah. 

Would you enjoy living somewhere where it's sunny all the time? Ugh, that’s how California feels. I really despise summer, it’s long and hot and miserable.

What is it that you always seem to lose?  I don’t lose stuff that often.

Have you ever broken any bones? Yes.

What is your winter coat like? I have a big puffy black jacket and a couple pea coats. 

Do you keep dirty clothes in a hamper, or on the floor? In a hamper. A pile on the floor would drive me nuts.

Which decade's music do you like best?: 60's, 70's, 80's, or 90's? I like music from each of them, but the 90s definitely have a special place for nostalgic reasons.

Can you focus on studying if there's music on? I don’t like to be in complete silence, but instead of music I typically just had the TV on for background noise.

In what types of situations do you demand absolute silence? Like I said, I don’t like absolute silence. It makes me anxious and my thoughts feel too loud. Even for sleep I have to have my TV on for both noise and light because I don’t like it completely dark either.

Did you do well at fitness testing in grade school? I didn’t have to do that.

If you had to choose a wardrobe to steal, who's would you pick? I like my wardrobe, could I take someone’s huge walk in closet instead? ha.

If you had to pick one thing to bring back from the 90's, what would it be? Ahh, that’s tough. I’d love to be able to actually go back to the 90s instead.

What about the 80's? Hmm.

Do you share any of your music taste with your parents? Yeah. Especially my mom and I.

Could your parents tell when you would fake sick? I never had to fake sick as I was always dealing with health stuff and not feeling well for one reason or another often enough.

Do you own more shoes or less shoes than the average person?  Uhh, I don’t know the stats on that.

Do you still have anything from when you were a baby? Yes.

Are there any stores that send you e-mail newsletters?  I get emails about sales, coupons, and new items from a few stores I signed up to receive emails from.

Do you think people overuse the word "random"?  Nah.

How often do you floss?  Not often. :X

Do you use hairspray much? >> I don’t use it at all.  <<< 

Who is your favorite painter?  I don’t have one.

Are art museums interesting or boring to you?  I think they’re interesting.

What subject in school do you feel is the least necessary? I felt that way about a lot of what was taught in math, personally. 

When you were a kid, what games did you always play on the playground? I remember playing 4-square and tag.

Do you enjoy power outages or do you get annoyed?  Ours always happen during the summer when it’s hot and miserable D:

Do you know how to use an ATM? Yeah.

How about write a check? Certainly, although it’s useless knowledge now. <<<

Are you in to your heritage much? I’d like to learn more about it.

Are you pretty politically correct? I certainly never want to offend anyone, that’s never my intention. I may not always get it right, but I try.

What is one fashion trend you'll never understand? I don’t get why people like Crocs now. Also, wth is up with Yeezy’s? 

What do you wear when you exercise? I don’t exercise.

What is usually the last thing you do before you go to bed? Listen to ASMR.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

Kim Donghyun, 김동현

anonymous asked:

Okay, here's my request BUT you can take your time on it and just do it when you're not so busy! I'd like something with Donghyun, a non-idol au, with lots of intense feelings heh. Maybe something like you're college housemates with his friend and he always comes over all the time for literally everything and anything when actually its just excuses to see the reader? Dongdong needs the love :( -1102

Group: AB6IX

Member: Donghyun

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You stared out into the vast field of flowers, scattered with Sweet Peas, Stargazer Lilies and Daffodils. A warm breeze blew past, gifting you with the blossoms’ sweet fragrance. 

You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, taking a deep breath and just enjoying the atmosphere around you. It was that kind of calming, yet uncomfortably ‘too-good-to-be-true’ feeling. 

You squinted your eyes, swearing you could see some movement in the distance. Sure enough, a figure drew closer and closer. You could only see the person’s silhouette, not being able to pick out any defining features, but there was a certain aura around him. 

It felt safe, and romantic, and warm.

Even more so when that person held their hand out to you.

Just as you were about to brush fingers with that silhouette, a loud, jarring screech met your ears; a noise that you could recognize anywhere. It was your faithful friend that you greeted first every morning—your alarm clock.

You slammed your hand down on the bedside table with somewhat of a vengeance. Sure, you know the dream was too good to be reality, but couldn’t that damn alarm clock have let you be lost in for just a second or two more?

You huffed, sitting up and running a hand through your hair, almost certainly a greasy mess. You blinked harshly, trying to flush the last remnants of sleep out of your eyes. With sleepy, half-awake steps, you made your ways to the blinds, pulling them up hesitantly. 

Luckily, the sun wasn’t as blinding as you had expected. In fact, there was quite a bit of cloud-coverage. You made the mental note to bring an umbrella with you to school. 

You didn’t bother brushing your teeth, because you could already smell the breakfast wafting in from the kitchen. Your roommate would always say that he wasn’t that good at cooking, but his meals said otherwise. Maybe he wasn’t the best in the world, but you’d never eaten anything made by him that you didn’t enjoy to the fullest extent. 

You padded out into the dining room, hair still a mess, still half-asleep and wearing nothing but an worn, over-sized tee-shirt and some sleep shorts. Your roommate—Jeon Woong—was used to seeing this sight in the mornings; just as you were used to seeing him looking perfectly put-together, despite it being barely 6AM. 

You paused for a moment.

There was another thing you were used to seeing. One of Woong’s close friends from his hometown—Kim Donghyun. Through the last semester and a half, he’d been coming over to your dorm-room pretty much everyday.

Usually for breakfast, but also for some pretty mundane things as well. 

Like the famous, “Dude, I need to go to the grocery store, and it’s late, and I’m too scared to go alone”, or “My roommates ditched me, so I’m stealing you guys as my honorary ones”. 

Or (a personal favorites of yours), “I was reading my anatomy textbook and I read the word ‘womb’, and you know what rhymes with ‘womb’? Yeah, that’s right. Woong! So I knew that I just had to come over”.

Woong didn’t appreciate that one too much, but you thought it was hilarious.  

Kim Donghyun was a strange guy, but he was funny, so you never protested to his constant visits. In fact, you thought it was pretty cute how the two Daejeon boys stayed in touch.

Sometimes, you could physically see Woong getting fed up with him, but you’d never seen them argue, because in the end, they were friends and cared about each other—no matter how clingy Donghyun could be sometimes. 

You still remembered the first time Donghyun had invited himself over. You hadn’t expected him, and he CLEARLY had not expected you, because when you came out into the dining room looking like how you normally did, you both screamed. 6 in the morning, and you both screamed at the top of your lungs.

Nowadays though, it didn’t phase either of you. You’d gotten familiar with the feeling of seeing his dorky smile every day.

In your mind, any friend of Woong’s was a friend of your, so you kind of just let it happen. You and Woong had been friends since you both started college, not exactly clicking at first, but growing very close as time went on.

You walked to the the fridge and pulled out a jug, not fully acknowledging either of the boys milling around the kitchen. Woong was hard at work at the stove-top and Donghyun was sitting comfortably at the table, flipping through a Human Sciences textbook.

He looked up at you with that same smile he always had, giving you an elegant wave that was a bit over-the-top for so early in the morning, but you gave it a pass because it made you chuckle. 

Woong glanced over his shoulder as you poured yourself a glass of orange juice. “’Morning,” he said, smiling a little. You gave him a small wave and a hum. He knew that meant, ‘Good morning to you, too’. 

He went back to folding the omelette he was working on. “Heard you talking in your sleep,” he mentioned, urging the egg onto a plate. “Whachya dreamin’ about?” 

You downed your glass, glad to get the morning breath taste out of your mouth. “Prince Charming,” you said simply, smacking your lips to get rid of the leftover flavor. 

Donghyun’s brows rose in intrigue. “Oh, yeah?” he said. “Prince Charming got a name?” he asked, wiggling his brows. 

You shook your head, leaning against the counter of your cramped kitchen. “Not even a face, dude,” you said. You nodded slowly, as if working something out in your head. “I think he will one day, though.” 

“Why do you say that?” Donghyun asked. 

Woong set a plate-full of food in front of him. “’Cause she’s a closet romantic and she believes that a reoccurring dream like that will have a different outcome as time goes on,” he chuckled. He leaned down, as if he was sharing a secret. “She likes to think that when she meets ‘the guy of her dreams’, that’s where he’ll show up.” 

Your cheeks grew hot. “Shut up, Woong!” you said, chucking a damp dish towel at him from last night. Unfortunately, he dodged. Freakin’ athlete. 

“Weak,” he teased, making an ‘L’ shape on his forehead and sticking out his tongue. He chose ‘weak’ instead of ‘you throw like a girl’, because he’d learned the hard way that would just get his ass thoroughly whipped.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Whatever,” you huffed.

Donghyun raised his hand gingerly, as if he were asking a question in class to a particularly salty professor. “So,” he started, “you’re into the whole ‘fate’ thing?”

You hummed thoughtfully. Did you really believe in that? “Yeah, I guess I am into it,” you finally decided on, nodding. 

Woong coughed, the words coming out something along the lines of, “Closet romantic”.

You smacked his shoulder. “I said—shush!” you chastised. 

Donghyun chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s all good,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me.” He flashed a cute smile. “It’s cute.” 

It wasn’t long before you were all sitting around the dining table, munching down on another top-class meal by Jeon Woong himself. 

“11 out of 10, Woong,” you said to him through a mouth-full of food. 

He gagged exaggeratedly. “Talk or chew,” he said. “Choose one, not both.” 

Donghyun nodded. “It’s not hot,” he added. “Negative points, my friend.”

You rolled your eyes and swallowed. “I’m not eating breakfast at 6:30 in the morning trying to be sexy,” you grumbled. You made a sour expression and pushed your plate away. “You guys are making me lose my appetite.”

Donghyun chuckled. “Oh, come on! You know we didn’t mean it,” he said. He poked your side. “As your honorary guy friends, we’ve gotta make fun of you.”

You quirked a brow. “Who says your my friend?” you teased. 

“Who says I’m not?” he rebutted, a sly little smirk making it’s way to his lips. He tilted his head. “You’re too comfortable with me not to see me as a friend.”

You dipped your fingers in your water glass, flicking it after him after. “Whatever, Hyun,” you said. 

He laughed, splashing water back at you. “You even gave me a nickname!”

Woong groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m third-wheeling here?” he whined. 

That’s how breakfasts with Donghyun and Woong usually went. More fun than when it was just you. By yourself, it was quiet and lonely. With Woong, it was simple and filled with comfortable silences, but easy conversation. 

With Donghyun added into that equation? 

There was no shortage of early-morning chuckles and juice-out-of-the-nose snorts. It wasn’t even that he was trying to be particularly funny—you just found him amusing in the simplest of ways. 

And even though it was really shocking and annoying sometimes to find him just randomly there, making himself at home on the couch or raiding the fridge, it definitely wasn’t the worst thing to find.

Especially after a crap day, because he had a seamless way of lightening up the mood without feeling like he was trying too hard. You could see why Woong liked him, even if you weren’t a fan of him at first.  

He was just simple like that. 

He sneaked up on you—like the spice after a pepper, or the warmth spreading through your body after the first sip of hot chocolate with marshmallows. You were pretty happy with how your relationship with him had grown, though you couldn’t quite place why.

When he first started coming over, you felt a little left-out. He and Woong would always share funny stories from their hometown, recalling their nostalgic childhood adventures, and you’d feel a slight disappointment not understanding the inside jokes and small situational innuendos.

Though, it didn’t take too long for them to start inviting you into the proverbial circle—Donghyun being especially welcoming. You supposed that’s just how he was; always the campus heartthrob.  

You were happy that, nowadays, all three of you would swap stories, recalling some of your amusing adventures together. 

“Remember when you legit”—you made an exaggerated arm movement, complete with funky sound-effect—“dived into that pile of leaves?”

Woong sighed, somewhat reminiscent of a tired single-mom. “I do,” he said, raising a hand. “I thought you broke your neck, ‘cause you didn’t come back up for like... A solid eight seconds.”

Donghyun choked on his drink; a fruit smoothie that he was always very proud of telling you he made himself. “You remember that?” he asked, a little flushed. “It was such a long time ago, though!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course I remember!” you said. “I almost peed my pants laughing.” When you really thought about, you’d never had a bad moment with these two.Maybe they were your best friends.

You’d never had a best friend before, let alone two of them.

He smirked a little, looking smug. “Then I did my job well,” he said, taking a deliberately slurpy sip of his smoothie.

You quirked a brow. “Oh, yeah?” you started. “Elaborate.” 

He shrugged with that dumb, yet charming smile. “You looked sad that day.” He met your eyes. “I was trying to cheer you up.” 

You froze for a moment, just staring at him.

Woong looked between the two of you, looking like he was holding back a chuckle, his lips sucked in and chest shaking with effort. You gave him a look, silently asking, “You know something I don’t?”.

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you said simply. You smiled a little at the memory. “It definitely cheered me up, even though I thought you died for a second or two.”

Donghyun stood up for a moment, bowing gracefully. “’Twas my pleasure, m’lady,” he said. He sat back down and hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the table in some sort of rhythm. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to it. You knew he played guitar, but sometimes, it was more evident than others. His finger-tapping habit could get repetitive sometimes, but in the end, you could always forgive it.

His fingers had a certain strange beauty to them.

Donghyun glanced over, seeming to notice you staring at him. You didn’t realize it at the time, but his cheeks gained a lovely shade of red.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked, chuckling a little. 

You pulled yourself out of your daze, looking him in the eyes. “Hm?” you hummed. The question registered in your mind. “Oh! Nothing really,” you said. “You just have really nice hands.”

All of a sudden, his tapping stopped as he stood up, the chair legs scraping against the floor as it was pushed back by his legs. “Is that the time?” he asked, staring at a non-existent watch on his wrist. “My class is in like, ten minutes,” he said. 

Scooping his bag up off the floor and tying the flannel with the hole in the pocket around his waist, he flashed you and Woong a playful salute. “You’ll see me again, so don’t be too sad,” he said with a wink. 

With that, he was gone. 

Disappeared out the door, just as he reappeared every morning.

Woong coughed, sounding a bit more like a stifled laugh. “Whipped,” he said softly.

You furrowed your brows. “What?” you asked.

He shrugged, making a funny expression. “I didn’t say anything,” he assured you, picking up the empty plates and carrying them to the sink. “Nothing at all.”

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2:56AM

It was late. Too late.

You turned the page of your textbook, ignoring the heaviness of your eyelids. You’d already tried going to sleep, but it wasn’t cooperating, no matter how tired you were. 

Maybe this was why Woong had given you the nickname ‘Night Owl’.

Your reading light cast a harsh shadow on the words, but you powered through it, accepting the headache that you’d probably have in a few hours. 

You sighed, resting your head in the palm of your hand. You tapped your fingers lightly against the pages of your book, trying to remember the rhythm that Donghyun had been tapping out earlier. 

It was mid-tempo, calm and smooth, and it made you feel better to try and work it out in your head.  

You almost jumped out of your skin when your heard a tap on your window.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, all too aware of the fact that Woong was sleeping above you on the top-bunk. You felt your blood run cold, not daring to turn around and see what was waiting for you outside the window. 

As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a text notification. 

You looked over, scanning the pop-up. 

From: Donghyun

Dude... It’s just me. 

Your head whipped around, glaring at the window. Or, more aptly put, the face outside of it. Standing outside of the window, standing on his tippy-toes (you lived on the first floor of your dorm building) was Kim Donghyun, waving sheepishly.

You were about to open your mouth and say something, but he quickly brought a finger to his lips, silencing you. He made a circle with one hand and tapped it with the other, giving you a hopeful look. 

Slowly, the realization dawned on you. He wanted you to buzz him into the building. You nodded to him, flashing a quick thumbs-up. Despite your initial frustration, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

There weren’t many people that would come to visit you at 3 in the morning.

You hopped out of bed—fuzzy socks and all—and grabbed your over-sized sweater off the back of Woong’s rolling-chair, meeting Donghyun in front of your building. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, he was panting like crazy and he had a piece of crumpled up paper held loosely in his grip.

He looked up at you with relief in his eyes. “You’re here,” he breathed, creating a puff of heat in the chilly air. His eyes smiled before his lips did. “You came out.”

You crossed your arms, furrowing your brows. “Well, duh,” you said, looking down at him from the top of the steep incline of stairs. “You scared the crap out of me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to catch his breathe with the stinging air. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. 

You furrowed your brows. “Did you run here?” you asked. “Where’s your coat?” 

He looked down at himself, as if just noticing the lacking article of clothing. “Oh,” he said. “Guess I forgot it. I just—” He was cut off by a sneeze. 

You sighed. How could he come out in this weather in short sleeves? “Hold on a sec,” you said, starting to walk down the steps. You pulled the sweater over your head, offering it to him when you got to the bottom. “Put it on,” you said, having a sneaking suspicion that baby-blue would look great on him. 

He shook his head, eyes wide. “No way! It’s freezing—I’m not gonna take that from you.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Kim Donghyun,” you said, voice lowering an octave. He froze on the spot, staring at you with that ‘yes, ma’am?’ kind of look. “Take the damn hoodie.”

He reached for it tentatively. “Thanks,” he said with a small voice. He took to gently and pulled it over his head, mussing up his hair and making it stick out in funny directions. 

You chuckled. “Cutie,” you teased, flattening his hair back out. You couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks darkened in color; not even the dim lighting could hide it. You cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

“So...” you said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “What brings you here at 3AM? You know that Woong’s asleep, right?”

His hand clenched a little tighter around the paper in his hand, making an audible crackle. “I know that,” he said quietly. “That guy goes to bed at 11 on the dot, even if he has to study for a test.” He nibbled his bottom lip thoughtfully, not meeting your eyes for a minute. “I came for you,” he finally said.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There he was. 

Kim Donghyun.

One of your best friends.

He was wearing your sweater, his chest was still heaving from his run over, his cheeks, nose and ears were painted with red, and his eyes were glossy with an emotion you couldn’t quite read. For whatever reason, he looked really attractive like this—standing in front of you looking so... Real.

He was like a picture, unedited and unfiltered. Absolutely candid, and in a way, it was somewhat touching that he was your 3AM rendezvous. It felt special.

“Oh, yeah?” you said, shifting your weight a little. This feeling... It was odd. “What’d you have to say?” you asked. 

He took a deep breath, looking like he was trying to hold something back. An emotion, an action—it didn’t matter what it was. It was something he didn’t want to show. “It’s more like...” His voice gave out a little, his eyes watering.

You felt concern build in your chest. You’d never seen him like this. 

You took a step froward resting a hand on his shoulder. You rubbed it up and down his arm in a soothing fashion. “Take your time,” you whispered. “I’m here for you.” 

That seemed to strike a chord within him, snapping the rope inside of him that was restraining his emotions. In a fit of tears and a bitten back sob, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m hurting a lot right now,” he yelled out into the night-air, hiccuping over his words.

He didn’t care if he woke up Woong. He didn’t care if he woke up your entire building. Maybe he didn’t even care if he woke up the whole world. He continued on, “It hurts so much because of the things I can’t say. Because of the things I’m really scared to say.”

You felt your heart racing, feeling his hot tears land in your hair; some on your shoulder. You rubbed his back, trying anything to get him to calm down. “I don’t understand,” you said gently. “I’m gonna try, though.” 

You pulled him over to the stairs, gently dragging him down to sit with you. “Tell me what’s going on,” you said. 

He chuckled a little and wiped his eyes, voice still shaky. “You know,” he started, “I don’t even really know why I’m crying,” he admitted. “Is this what a period feels like?” 

You snorted under your breath. “A little bit, yeah,” you said, nodding. “What—do you have cramps, too?” 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He pointed to his chest, tapping it a few times in that same rhythm that he usually did. “In here.” He sighed a little, letting his shoulders slump. “You know, I realized something today,” he said. 

“And what’s that?” you asked. 

His left hand slowly inched closer and closer to yours, but you didn’t notice, too caught up in trying to read his expression. “When you were staring at me earlier and complimenting me...” he started. “I realized that I don’t regret one second that I spent coming over here instead of studying for tests.”

He continued, “At first, I just started coming over ‘cause school was stressing me out, and I thought that Woongie would cheer me up.” He smiled a little, staring up at the starless sky. “But then I met his cute, funny and smart roommate.” 

Your cheeks heated up. 

“I wanted to come over more often so I could get to know her better.” He shifted nervously, moving away by half a centimeter or two. “You better. Get to know you better,” he clarified softly. “I started coming up with all these dumb reasons to visit you guys, just so I could see you more often.” 

He met your eyes again, but with a shy hesitation. “I realized today that I more than just ‘like’ you. I think I...” He grumbled something under his breath along the lines of, ‘I don’t wanna say it out-loud, ‘cause it’s embarrassing’. 

He huffed, blowing a loose piece of bangs out of his eyes. “I think I really like you,” he settled on, hoping it would get his feelings across. Slowly, he unfolded the crumpled up piece of paper in his hand. 

He chuckled nervously. “I even wrote an entire freakin’ song about you, and I was gonna play it for you when I got over here, but like an idiot, I forgot my guitar at home, so I guess that plan died young—”

You cut him off with a hug that sucked the air from his lungs. “How about you sing it to me on our anniversary?” you offered. 

Why did you decide to fall into his arms? You weren’t exactly sure.

Maybe it was because he gave off the same warm and romantic vibe that the Prince Charming from your dreams did. Maybe it was him, and you just didn’t realize it.

There was a long, drawn out silence. 

Finally, Donghyun’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. “If you’re up for it,” he started, a smile in his voice, “that sounds like a really good idea.”

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Here you go, 1102! I hope this can help you finish your 2019 off on a high-note. 😉 Donghyun is such a lovebug and I hope people give him a lot of hugs. ;-; And like... Comforting + gentle collarbone kisses. I don’t know. I just feel like he’d be into that. I’m gonna shut up now.

Love ya, as always! Stay safe and healthy! 

#for anon #for 1102 #1102 anon #AB6IX Donghyun #ab6ix brand new boys #kim donghyun #kpop #kpopidol #kpop angst #kpop fluff #fluff #request #reaction #requested #this is really cute #kpop drabbles #ab6ix fluff #ab6ix reactions #ab6ix #ab6ix imagines #kpop aesthetic

[shellfish-honkon]

Perfume: English Translation of the Interview on Ongaku to Hito 2018.09 (vol.2)

Vol. 2 

A personal interview for Kashiyuka

Interview: Kashiyuka  

Since I've been through so many things until here, I feel like I'm invincible, or I'm not scared of anything, I should say.  I simply enjoy the present time so much, LOL!

- First thing first, can I ask you about your impression of the album?

K: I was surprised by the very bright atmosphere.  When I received the master sound source, he wrote a message to us saying "First, I would like you to listen the whole album without looking at the music order.  Do not read the music order before you listen"

 - I guess he wanted you to face the album as neutrally as you can.

K: Moreover, "Listen through the audio system of the highest quality you can get. No PC is allowed"

 - So he was pretty particular about the acoustic elements.

K: And furthermore, "If you don't have a nice audio system, then don't listen to it", LOL!!  I thought like, hey what kind of sound source is that?  I was surprised that Nakata-san said things like that.

 - If I were told things like that, I would feel pretty nervous when I press play, LOL!!

K: I hadn't received any requests or orders like that before, so I thought "I see, this is something"  I was pretty conscious when I took the first listen.

 - I know, you must have been very curious what would the complete album be like.

K: Therefore, I started listening without reading anything.  So I didn't know he put an instrument track "Start-Up" for the 1st song.  The moment I listened to it, I felt as if I started to walk toward a new world, just like the beginning of a story of a fairy tale.  I was so thrilled by that.

 - I know what you mean.  Unlike the 1st tracks of your last albums, it doesn't have that magnificent kind of atmosphere.

K: Then, what came next was "Future Pop"  I was pretty surprised like "What? Did he bring this for the 2nd track?"  But when I listened to it, I felt so glad that I was moved to tears.  In the past, I had goosebumps when I listened to a cool song, or got moved when I listened to a song that made me wistful inside.  But for this time, I somehow felt delightful. I felt as if I was told "You'll have bright future waiting for you from now on"

 - That might be true.  Personally, this album seems to cuddle to the past and the future of Perfume.

K: The world view of "COSMIC EXPLORER" was full of powerfulness and a sense of tension of breaking new ground in uncharted universe and future.  It was so magnificent, you know?

 - And it could be identified with Perfume of that era.  It seemed as if the album encouraged the 3 of you who were about to step into an unknown world, including the world tour.

K: This album is totally opposite of that magnificence.  It's so soft and gentle, and filled with happiness, I felt.

 - That's true.  It might be close to a view the 3 of you watching right now.  The lyrics are pretty real and it seems as if it's for the girls who are about to reach the next big-zero, or the start of the new chapter I should say...

K: Aha, you're talking about us turning 30's? LOL!!

 - ...It seems as if it tells these ladies like "You've come this far, and you can go even further from now on"

K: Yeah, and I'm so glad about that.  If you listen to each singles separately, you can sense that coolness and wistfulness. But when you listen to the whole album, even those songs are dragged to the bright world view this album possesses.

 - That's what is different from the magnificence of "COSMIC EXPLORER"

K: I felt as if the album lightly ran through us without losing its brightness at all.

 - The other thing I noticed, the number of sounds used in the album is pretty limited, right?

K: Yes.  Moreover, in some parts of the tracks, some nostalgic sounds are used.  You can tell if you listen to new tracks recorded in the album.  If you are a longtime fan who knows old Perfume songs, the sounds used behind the melodies would make you feel like "Oh, it sounds kinda nostalgic"  And for younger generations on the other hand, it might sound as a new sound.

 - I thought Nakata-san sent Perfume a message on that point as well.

K: When we started to perform Techno Pop for the first time, all we could say about the music was "It sounds like a sound of video games"  But after experiencing so many things, now I feel nostalgic and my heart twinges when I listen to this kind of sound.  Somehow I can feel warmth within the sound.

 - And you feel it in digital sounds that are supposed to be impersonal and cold, right?

K: Exactly. It's strange, but really amazing.

 - In "Future Pop", you sing "The future is bright"  But in the album, the path you 3 have walked is also illustrated, not only the future.  That might be the reason you felt so.

K: Soundly accepting our past when we move forward, rather than cutting it off, I see.  So for me, this album is pretty close to "Reframe" we performed the other day. Reconstructing the elements we have possessed for a long time and adding our latest elements into them to create something new.  I really, really enjoy doing it.

 - Wow, you sound so confident.

K: How should I say...?  Since I've been through so many things until here, I feel like I'm invincible, or I'm not scared of anything, I should say.  I simply enjoy the present time so much, LOL!

 - LOL! I know that's the mindset you 3 have right now.  So let me dare to ask you, what's the difference between the present and the past?

K: In the past, everything was a challenge for us.  And we also had a stronger sense of vocation and pressure to be accepted and get more people to listen to our music.  But now, we have arrived at the state of mind like "If people with whom we can understand each other understand us, we're just happy"

 - But does that mean you go defensive and play it safe?

K: Oh, I don't think so.  It's pretty difficult to update a vivid impression of a thing you felt when you met it for the very first time, no matter what you met.  It's same for us and people might get confused to see us doing something different from ourselves of that time.  And some people would definitely feel that our music doesn't fit their taste anymore.  I also feel things like that toward other bands sometimes.  But in any field, you just can't keep doing the same stuff and you've got to make changes.  I'd like to create something that we can proudly say "This is what we enjoy most and makes us happy", even if our change is not accepted.  I'd like to tell that to others and it would be my pleasure if we could understand each other.

 - Extremely speaking, you prefer sharing deep understandings with people who have love for Perfume, rather than getting unstable acceptance from many and unspecified audiences?

K: Hmm..., maybe?  I'm not sure. I feel really strange.  As you know, we've been working for a long time since we were young and back then, we thought the longer we continued our activities, the bigger our anxiety would grow.  We also believed that it would get more and more difficult to import elements of newer generations while maintaining our original policies at the same time, but actually we find it's getting less and less difficult to do so. We had never imagined us greeting like "3 of us together, we are Perfume!" at the age of almost 30 years old, but we actually do it, LOL!!

 - LOL!!

K: It's getting more and more fun.  Even if what we do get old, we think we can present the fun of the oldness.

 - That means you think you don't necessarily have to be cutting-edge?

K: People around us can judge whether we're cutting-edge or not, LOL!!  Now we can proudly express "What we enjoy most, what gets us excited most right now is this!"

 - In the early days, I saw you struggling to meet the expectation of the surrounding, rather than pursuing what you'd like to do?

K: We don't have that kind of difficulties anymore nowadays.  It would be our pleasure if we could get more people to listen to our music and we would love to meet the expectations.  But our feeling behind it is more like "We'd like to make your life bright with our music", rather than "We'd like to get more people to love our music"  So, it's more like we'd like to cuddle to everyone's lives, not that we'd like everyone to understand us.

 - Now I see that your perspective has changed.  This is something I told you in the joint interview, the girls in the MV...

K: Oh, you mean "Let Me Know"?

 - Yes, exactly.  In that MV, there are small girls who look like the projections of your old selves. It indicates that you're already in a position to pass something onto those people.

K: Like, this is how we have been through until now, and I believe you can do it, too, right? It's our pleasure if I could be a little help for those people..., hey, isn't it amazing that I can say things like this?  LOL!! Wow, people can change!  LOL!!

 - Yeah, I've heard you saying like that for recent 3 years, LOL!!

K: Right. So, it's never too late in whatever you do.  Nothing can get started if you just give up and say things like "This is who I am so..."  And once you get started, you'll notice a more important thing.

 - The more important thing?

K: Yes, once you get noticed about that, you can start to think things more lightly like "Alright, let's just give it a try!" even the things you feel pressure and anxiety to do and hesitate to try.

 - Hmm, that's true.

K: I thought I was a kind of person who lacked an ability to take action, and was nervous and tended to get distressed over so many things.  But recently, my friends tell me like "You know what, Yuka-chan?  You're pretty active", LOL!

 - LOL!

K: Yeah, and I actually became more active.  For example, last year I heard my friends talking "On this weekend, I'm going to go and ride on a drift ice", and I immediately went like "Ah, I'm free on this weekend!  I wanna go, so, I will go, too!" LOL!!  I've gained the instantaneous force, or activeness I should say, to follow a friend who is up to something I can never imagine doing.  Taking fancy ideas like that into action can make your life more enjoyable.

 - Such attitude might influence your mindset toward Perfume, I guess.

K: It did, actually, in a good way.  Now I don't take things too seriously.  After my teenage and 20's, the big 3-zero is just ahead of me right now.  Since I've spent my most sensitive ages working on a job like this, I have a tons of anxieties and sorrows I felt in those days. But now I feel all of them were beneficial for me and none of them were a waste.

 - That's so true.

K: When I look back from now, I can understand that A-chan and Nocchi were feeling the same back then.  But the time helped us forgive each other and we become even closer than we used to be. I really love the 2, not only their good part but including everything such as tough things and sad memories. As we had so many obstacles to get over, we became much closer now and the bonds between us became much stronger.

 - I feel your growth like that is projected to this album.  As if it's trying to tell us what you have been doing has not been mistaken.

K: I feel this brightness the album possesses is the answer for it.  I'm really delightful if Nakata-san actually senses that.

 - From my point of view, Nakata-san always senses things like that.

K: Isn't that amazing?  We only meet when we have recording or the meeting for the album releases.  We never see each other unless the CD release or recording is confirmed.  But still, he sensitively gets a scent of each members or the changes of Perfume. He must be genius!

 - That's simply because of his pure love, I believe.

K: He started to explain his music by words more and more, like he did when we released "If you wanna"  Now I believe he regards us as people who can communicate, LOL!!  In the early days, we were like "We won't miss any single word coming out of his mouth!!!", LOL!!  But recently, he speaks us more about music and I think that's because now we can have casual conversations.

 - That means you became a grownup.

K: I guess I took one step toward the grownup.  Now I don't think about "I wanna be a grownup, I don't wanna be a grownup" and things like that.  I felt "Ah, I actually became a grownup" since I quit categorizing things as "child" and "grownup"

 - I see.

I realize my motivation in life is to be needed by others, regardless whether they're children or grownups.  If I'm wanted, I can work harder for it.  So, it's like, now Perfume doesn't belongs to the 3 of us alone.  Perfume is more like a living system we create with various people, LOL!!

 - LOL!! A living system named Perfume!

K: Therefore, each one of them affects Perfume and helps it transform.  Though it might be the 3 of us who announce ourselves as Perfume, it is the living system created by our staffs we've worked with, our fans, friends and so many other people, LOL!!

 - And it will transform itself by taking the feelings of so many people into considerations, I see.

K: Even things like that are not definite.  Now it's becoming something without fixed shapes or styles.  And that's exactly why I feel we can do anything now.

#prfm #prfm_um

[iceprincesseu]

happy birthday, namjoon ah.

a birthday fic for my main mans. aka: hyunjae struggles to find out a present for namjoon and ends up doing a character study on all her other friends instead.

Jung Hyunjae has an issue. 

Kim Namjoon. Also known to Hyunjae as: Her Namjoon, her main man, her best friend, her current issue.

His birthday is in two weeks. And does not have a birthday present for him yet?? This is for two reasons: her busy schedule and her intrinsic flaws as a person. 

Because she wants to pick something that he would appreciate and would be useful. But it is hard to pick something useful when Namjoon is a part of a boy band that has an estimated net worth of 60 million USD as of 2020- according to google. A second google search for individual net worth tells her that Namjoon is worth 15 million on his own- which- yeah. 

Anything he could want, he could afford to buy himself. 

Which is why she is struggling so hard to pick something. She tried to ask if he has an Amazon wishlist (he doesn’t), checked his Good Reads list to see if there are any books he wants (all of the wants he has bookmarked aren’t even out yet wtf), and looked into sound equipment (but he probably has top of the line shit already). 

So yeah. Hyunjae has an issue. She needs some help. 

The only option is to turn towards inside sources. 

The countdown for answers begin. 

D-14. 

-

It was so much easier to see her unnies back in the day, seeing as how they shared a dorm together. Now that Yeongwon is pretty fucking close to hitting their 10th anniversary, it makes sense that housing arrangements have changed since then. 

Nowadays, when Hyunjae wants to see her unnies and there are no schedules, she has to drive to their houses. The audac- just kidding. It’s nothing bad, it’s just different from where they started. And it is how it should be, especially as they are reasonably successful veteran idols at this point who are...well...older now. Sometimes though, on the days where it seems like she hasn’t seen her girls in a while, she finds herself feeling nostalgic about the past. 

But it’s all for the best. They are older and the longer they stay in this industry, the more precious privacy gets. 

Once she pulls up to Saehyun’s apartment, she greets the security guard with a wave, and maneuvers until she is at the desired door. Hyunjae lets herself in (because they all have keys to each others’ residences, okay?), she notices a pair of shoes in the rack that clearly do not belong to Saehyun. Probably because they look like they’re a pair of Mens’ 9-9.5 sneakers. 

The only reason Hyunjae isn’t scared that she is possibly walking into something she won’t be able to unsee is because she did have the decency to say she is coming over. 

“Saehyun unnie!” She calls out. A beat later. “Seokjin oppa!” 

“In here!” they chorus together, like the disgustingly sweet couple they are. They are in the kitchen. Seokjin looks completely at home as they make dinner. Seokjin is standing next to the sink with a fish and a sharp knife (sashimi, she thinks). Saehyun is working on a noodle soup dish (seolleongtang, maybe) on the opposite counter. 

Hyunjae is pretty sure Seokjin has his own apartment, on top of the dorm that the Bangtan boys still use communally. She says “pretty sure” because even though she went to the house warming for the said apartment, he never seems to actually be there during Bangtan’s downtime- instead choosing to be at Saehyun’s instead. 

They’ve only been together for a little over six months but they’re so domestic it hurts. Honestly, the speed in which their relationship is progressing to domesticity could be terrifying, but it’s not. It just works, somehow. She thinks about how Seokjin looks comfortable next to Saehyun. She thinks about how Saehyun essentially took 8 years to come to the conclusion that- yes, Seokjin is an option for her. A good option, at that. Granted, they’ve both dated other people throughout the years that their respective groups have been affiliated with each other. And it’s not like Seokjin has been interested in Saehyun for the last 8 years or anything, but it’s nice thinking about how they have fallen together in this period of their lives. All it really took was Seokjin asking Saehyun, “Hey, what do you think about me?”- and the rest was history. In the whirlwind life that Seokjin is living now, Saehyun acts like an anchor. She is a place to come home to. And that’s all the information Seokjin needed to confirm that, yes, he was going to date the fuck out of Han Saehyun. 

Yup. That is exactly what he did, Hyunjae thinks. Aggressively pursued her. The whole ~ wine, dine, sixty- 

Nope. Hyunjae stops that thought immediately.

Instead, she thinks about one of her favorite moments that she had been blessed to witness between these two people.

Saehyun had casually been brushing off just how pretty Mr. Worldwide Handsome was- and then Seokjin had appeared with his combed off to the side, exposing his forehead.

Once she saw him, Saehyun almost walked into a wall. The power that forehead holds, to be able to make Saehyun almost injure her own.

Beautiful.

Hyunjae moves on autopilot, greeting Saehyun with a kiss on the cheek and waving at Seokjin. After pleasantries are exchanged, Seokjin asks, “What brings you here?” like it’s his own apartment. Amazing.   

Hyunjae takes a seat near the two chefs. “What are you getting Namjoon for his birthday?” She asks. The question is obviously more directed towards Seokjin, who tuts at her like she is a cute little fool.

“The same thing I get him every year- the newest phone that comes out in September.” 

Okay, Hyunjae knew that. She pouts at the answer anyway. In the stress of trying to find an appropriate present though, it slipped her mind. Maybe she is just a cute little fool.

Namjoon isn’t going to use two phones, so Hyunjae can’t piggyback off of Seokjin’s idea. So, this is a bust. 

“Does that mean you’re going to get Hannie unnie an upgrade of whatever you got for her this year on her next birthday?” Hyunjae asks. That seems to be Seokjin’s running theme.

Seokjin looks to Saehyun if a stare could be described as melty- gooey- liquid affection-? Whatever it is, Seokjin is doing it. “Saehyun can have whatever she wants.”

And now they’re making eyes at each other. Saehyun is blushing.

Gross. Cute, but gross.

But at least she gets a really nice dinner for coming by and some quality time with Saehyun and Seokjin (before Seokjin shoos Hyunjae away so that he can show Saehyun all the other options that fall under ~whatever she wants~).

D-13.

-

“Hobi!” This is a greeting normally said with lots of excitement, because how to not call out to her other 94-liner who is sunshine personified with cheer? She sneaks into Hoseok’s studio space to see Hoseok swivel around in his chair, putting a finger on his lips to signify that she should be quiet. Hyunjae is about to ask why when she sees Sanghee sleeping on the couch, swaddled in blankets. 

Oh. Okay. 

The couch is right next to where Hoseok is situated in front of his sound system. Like, not even touching a wall. This should not be wear a couch is? But okay.

Sanghee had been in Paris for some fashion show for the past two weeks. She was both a designer and a model for this particular show. This was only possible because she is a beautiful and talented b and anyone would be honored for her to grace their show. 

According to the group chat, Sanghee flew back to Korea last night. It looks like she went to see Hoseok as fast as she could and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Something about this whole scene warms Hyunjae’s heart. 

They’re not dating yet, technically, because Sanghee is still taking some time for herself. She’s not quite sure if she wants to jump into another relationship right away. She deserves that time to herself, to be honest. Sanghee likes Hoseok- how can she not? She’s just still healing from Tao.

So no, they’re not dating yet-

But they will be. They fucking will be. 

Because Hoseok looks at her like he doesn’t see anyone else, like no one else can even enter his worldview. Quite frankly, it is intense. But Jung Hoseok is an intense person who lives hard and works hard and loves hard. 

Luckily, Kim Sanghee is also the type to love really, really hard. Once she decides to love you. 

Sometimes, when they’re having a house party or a hang out and there is alcohol in everyone’s system, it is hard for Hyunjae not to notice how Hoseok looks at Sanghee. Like he’s content to just be beside her. Just last month, there was a moment between them that made Hyunjae go, “huh.” 

Sanghee had made a joke- and laughed about it a lot. Like, full on, deadass laughter. And Hoseok normally laughs at everything. But in this moment where Sanghee looked so happy and carefree, clutching her stomach from her own goddamn hilarity, Hoseok isn’t laughing. Instead, his expression is soft and open and gentle as he watches her. 

It’s like the alcohol had lowered his inhibitions and he put into plain sight who he sees in his future.  

And at the moment, Sanghee is trying to be cautious because she has been hurt before- god has she been hurt before- but she knows that Hoseok would be good for her. She knows that they would be good for each other. They get along and they laugh a lot and have similar values and there’s this weird tension whenever they look at each other too long. 

Also, if this is not indicative enough- when Sanghee came back to Korea, the first person she wanted to see was Hoseok. And she is currently asleep on his couch, wrapped up in his blanket. So, I mean? Hyunjae isn't a psychic or anything, but?? 

“What should I get Namjoon for his birthday?” Hyunjae ends up whispering to not disturb Hoseok’s sleeping beauty. Sanghee looks so tired and small and cute. Hyunjae wants to pet her. 

“You came all the way here just for that?” He whispers back, grinning. “You never try this hard for my birthday. I call favoritism,” he snarks. His tone is still quiet and low. There is still his trademark brightness in his voice though. 

Hyunjae only scoffs- as quietly as she can- because yes. Everyone is aware of who her favorite friend in Bangtan is. “Seokjin oppa said he’s already buying him a phone. Should I buy him a computer?” 

Hoseok taps his chin thoughtfully. “I think Namjoon already bought himself a gaming laptop.” That fucker. Doesn’t Namjoon know that you’re not supposed to buy yourself anything that could potentially be a birthday present when it’s birthday time? 

“What a bastard,” Hyunjae breathes out. Well, time to scrap that idea. “What did you get him then?” 

“A subscription box for those high end clothes he likes,” Hoseok shrugged. 

Damn that’s a really good idea. Why didn’t Hyunjae think of that? 

Okay. Well. 

When Hyunjae is exiting the studio door, she turns so that she can call out once last goodbye. She sees that Hoseok has already turned back to his sound table, with one hand stretched out towards Sanghee. His fingers are gently threading through her hair, staring straight in front of him. When Hyunjae turns her gaze towards Sanghee- her eyes are closed but she is unmistakably smiling.

Ha.  

D-11

-

Okay well she has one week left now and at this point she is just getting (more?) desperate. 

So she reaches out to Jeon Jungkook, her fellow maknae. 

As she is crafting her delicately word text message to Jungkook (which reads: hey what did you get namjoon and can i steal your idea) Hyunjae finds it really funny that most of her current social circle involves Bangtan boys because all of the girls (and herself, included) are ~into~ a Bangtan boy. 

Hyunjae likes to make herself laugh by saying that they’re all Bulletproof boys until they simp over her unnies. 

Jungkook included. 

He may be famous for being ice cold and unaffected around pretty women- but it hits different when it’s Yeongwon.

Maybe it’s because Yeongwon has been around since debut, but they all knew Jungkook before he learned that he was hot shit. (Sanghee joins them in this two years later.)

They met him as a teenager, when he was all awkward and not quite confident yet and blushed whenever Hyorin looked at him for a little too long. He used to blush whenever Aejung complimented his dancing too.

And one time, he tripped in the waiting room while they were monitoring Yeongwon on one of the TV screens. Saehyun had done one of her winky things that she likes to do when it’s her turn to be the ending fairy. Jungkook nearly ended up sprawled on the floor. Namjoon had told this to Hyunjae after the fact, since they were on stage performing, but it was still hilarious to hear about.) 

Ah, so cute. Hyunjae misses those days. 

Haegeul has long since announced that they should leave those EXO boys alone- so now, almost collectively, albeit at different times, they’re into BTS. The jury is still out on whether Haegeul thinks this is an improvement or not. 

Jungkook takes five whole minutes to text her back. 

He got Namjoon a really vintage record and an equally vintage record player for all of Namjoon’s vintage needs.

And he tells her a firm no, she can’t steal his idea.

What a sad day. 

D-7

-

Hyunjae likes Taehyung. He’s cute and funny and bright and makes her Aejung unnie laugh. Taehyung, with his deep voice and sincere smile and easy going nature. 

When Aejung first tells her that she is interested in Taehyung, the first reaction is to think “okay, makes sense”- and not just because Taehyung is a beautiful bastard. Undoubtedly, he is. But more than that, Hyunjae thinks she likes him because he is equal parts charming and awkward and kind- these are all aspects of his personality that make Aejung swoon. 

But the kindness- this is what Hyunjae focuses on. 

Because Lee Aejung deserves only nice things. 

So yes. It’s nice when Taehyung acts as an energizer for Aejung, ready to act cute or make a joke at the drop of a hat when it looks like Aejung is really in need of something that makes her happy.

It’s also nice when Taehyung makes her slow down. When Taehyung makes her think about her own health. When Taehyung makes her realize that she has been going at full speed for the past 32 hours and- hey, doesn’t a nap sound really good right now?

It’s even nicer when he looks after her when they’re on drama sets together. He makes sure she has eaten and stays hydrated and runs over lines with her in their down time. Also, it is super nice when Taehyung sends Hyunjae cute sneaky photos that he takes of Aejung when she is in her acting element. This part, she really likes. 

Hyunjae has always worried about who takes care of Aejung when Aejung is busy taking care of everyone else. Hyunjae gets extra worried during filming times, because Aejung will run her body to the ground to get the best version of any scene she is a part of. So when Aejung goes somewhere that Hyunjae can’t follow, she really appreciates that someone is looking out for her unnie. She appreciates it so much that it makes Hyunjae want to affectionately call Taehyung ‘Taetae’ and buy him whatever he wants, like a true noona. 

Currently- well, Hyunjae is not sure where they are yet. Aejung has made her romantic interest towards Taehyung known only recently. But like, to her girls.

To Taehyung, not yet.

Because Taehyung makes Aejung a shy mess and honestly- it’s fucking adorable. 

But there’s hope, she thinks. Yoongi has told her, on more occasions than one, that Taehyung likes talking a lot about the people/things that he likes. And apparently, he will not shut up about Lee Aejung. In what capacity and depth, Taehyung has yet to disclose to Yoongi (and, by extension, Hyunjae). 

Hyunjae is hopeful though. So far, all signs are pointing to good things. 

It is not her place to ask Taehyung about what he feels for Aejung. Hyunjae is undeniably curious if Taehyung even knows that Aejung is interested. Is he picking up what she is putting down? No one knows. Aejung’s not ready to find out. 

So, yeah. Not her place to ask. What is her place to ask about, however, is what he has prepared for Namjoon’s birthday. 

She FaceTime’s Taehyung when she has five days left to get her shit together. She greets him and then he greets her and then she wastes no time in asking, “What did you do for Namjoon’s birthday?” 

Taehyung is quick to do a humble brag. He shows her an intricately made photo album that looks like a collage of Namjoon’s finest moments. Pages worth of pictures from award shows, performances, Namjoon as an underground rapper, Namjoon with his dimple on full display, Namjoon with the people he cares about (his family, his bandmates, his friends). 

It’s aesthetic as fuck. Hyunjae can tell that a lot of time and effort went into that thing. Where Taehyung found the time, she has no idea. “You made him a whole photo album?” He proudly shows her a couple more pages and Hyunjae frowns on principle. “Not everyone is talented like you, Taehyung ah,” she complains. Taehyung blushes a little at the praise and Hyunjae can feel the nervous energy through her iPhone. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

Hyunjae’s frown softens and turns into a smile instead. She really does like Taehyung. “It is beautiful and he will love it,” she promises.  She talks to Taehyung a little more and ~accidentally~ shows Taehyung all the nice pictures of her Aejung unnie last week. He showed her nice pictures, so in return, she showed him nice pictures! This is the explanation she is going to give her unnie.

(When Taehyung compliments Aejung the next day on how great she looked in those pictures from the mountains, Hyunjae later gets a call from Aejung. Aejung is whispering, like she ducked away and hid somewhere so she could, in a very panicky scolding unnie to dongsaeng tone, ask her what did you do? -  because that trip to the mountains was a JaeJung adventure. Hyunjae can tell just from the tone of Aejung’s voice that her unnie blushing. Cute.) 

Well, Hyunjae can’t do anything on that scale of Taehyung’s present, but this does give her an idea. 

D-5

-

Hyorin and Jimin’s dynamic is interesting. 

This may be because Hyorin has kept her “dongsaeng killer” title true since Day One, but- like- lets just say Hyunjae is the most cautious of coming over to Hyorin’s apartment, lest she see something that will change how she looks at Jimin forever. Hyorin mentioned once that Jimin is really cute when he cries, which is fine, but there was something about her tone that made Hyunjae not ask any follow up questions. 

But yeah. They’ve been ~a thing~ for a very, very long time. Close to four years, maybe? Five? Bangtan debuted 8 years ago, but they’ve been on and off though, so Hyunjae's not sure that even they know how long they’ve been ~a thing~. 

When Bangtan had first debuted, Hyorin took one look at Jimin and decided- yes. 

And really, that is all it took.

Well, that. And for Jimin to be an adult by both Korean and international standards. 

Granted, there was some initial trepidation on both sides. Jimin is six years younger than Hyorin, after all. But Hyorin decided that she liked Jimin enough to look past that and Jimin decided that he wanted to follow Hyorin for however long she would let him. 

There is something about Hyorin that makes Jimin ready to risk it all. Hyunjae knows this because Jimin has said this out loud. Repeatedly. To anyone who knows about them, really. 

But also. Jimin is sweet as fuck. Just. Caring and thoughtful and ready to hype up Hyorin on her celebratory days and to fight anyone on the bad ones. It’s cute how much he champions her. Hyorin doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles, but it is cute how much Jimin would be willing to. Over the years, Jimin has proven himself as the person who will send Hyorin flowers on random days because he can. He’ll call her to tell her a particularly funny joke because he’s constantly thinking about her. One time, he hunted for a shiny Pokemon for three days because Hyorin mentioned in passing that she wanted this particular one. 

Listen. Park Jimin was a simp for Park Hyorin before the word was even added to the Urban Dictionary. 

For the longest time, they were dating, even if there has never been a conversation about an official status. This was possible because they knew that they liked each other. They knew that they would put in the work to make it work. 

Their dynamic has changed in the last year and a half. Their young infatuation with one another had turned into something more mature. 

Hyorin’s love for Jimin wasn’t instantaneous. She didn’t wake up one morning and decide that she was in love with him. Instead, it was gradual. She took her time to come to the realization that Park Jimin is her person. And she wanted that official title, even if netizens would destroy her if it was revealed that she was dating someone six years her junior. 

Jimin was quick to agree, because let's face it, he has wanted that for years. But he never wanted to push her. Was just happy to be allowed in her orbit. Just wanted to be able to take care of her, for as long as she wanted him to. 

And now, here they are. Realistically, if they keep going how they are, that day will come eventually. But for now, they are happy with their little secret. 

Anyway, suspicious kinks aside, Hyunjae is just happy that Hyorin is happy. With Jimin, Hyorin is choosing to be happy. Choosing someone who she loves and who will love her. 

It’s cute. All her unnies and their boys are cute. 

At this point, Hyunjae has figured out what she is doing to do for Namjoon. She’s just asking to ask.

Hyorin is sitting on the couch playing World of Warcraft, her newest gaming obsession. 

“Jimin ah,” she calls out to the younger boy who is sprawled on the living room floor of Hyorin’s condo. (More precisely, he’s sprawled on the living room floor of Hyorin’s condo at her feet.) Hyunjae does not ask if the floor is comfortable. Instead, she asks Jimin what she has been asking everyone. “What did you get Namjoon?” 

Jimin looks up at her and smiles brightly. “I got him speakers and that fancy bag he wanted.” Oh the bag that was like 20k? 

Solid choice, Park Jimin. 

Next!

D-4

-

Namjoon may be Hyunjae’s main man, but she calls him this in a very platonic way. This is not to be confused with when she calls Yoongi her man. 

Now, Yoongi. Min Yoongi is her man in a decidedly not very platonic way. No. Opposite of platonic. Bring on the romance. Give her the handholding and the long hugs and the cuddles and kisses. She wants the dates and the anniversaries and the potential vacations together. Hyunjae wants all of that with Yoongi. 

She just never says any of that out loud because- one, that’s embarrassing. She used to be called an ice princess. What the fuck has happened to her? And two- she’s not completely sure how Yoongi would react to all of that. They’ve only been dating for nine months so? All of those thoughts need to shut the fuck up and stay quiet until she gets some kind of confirmation that he sees a long term future with her.

The only reason Hyunjae did not immediately harass Yoongi for an answer about what to get Namjoon for his birthday is because he is a sentimental gremlin and would just tell her something like “he would appreciate anything you get for him” and not provide anything else. Which- cute, but not helpful. 

“Yoongi ah,” she greets. She should be calling him oppa, but the affectionate endearment slips from her sometimes, especially when she is being whiny. She started calling him “Yoongi ah” because of the “Just One Day” MV and has not been able to stop since. Yoongi doesn’t particularly care for honorifics anyway, which she is grateful for. 

How would Hyunjae describe her relationship with Yoongi? 

She would be lying if Hyunjae said she wasn’t interested in Yoongi the day she met him. He was (and is) talented and confident and a badass. Yoongi lives his life by giving zero fucks and it shows. And yet- he had an unapproachable image, but he turned out to be so, so, so soft. He is patient with his dongsaengs and he’s not afraid to make a fool of himself for a laugh and he cooks for them to show that he cares. Min Yoongi is a good person. Hyunjae knew this then and she knows this now.

But she met him when she was barely 19. At that age, interest comes and goes like smoke.

It is not until years later that Hyunjae’s interest in Yoongi resurfaces. He has always been around. Her best friend is Namjoon, so obviously she has been around his bandmates.

One day, about 10 months ago, Hyunjae’s attraction to Yoongi just switches on and she doesn’t know if there is an off option. She is slightly suspicious that Yoongi has destroyed the off option.

Currently, Yoongi is on his bed, enjoying his favorite past time- lying on his bed and not moving. They’re in Yoongi’s apartment and it is quiet and peaceful and nice. Hyunjae joins him on the bed, snuggling him. He lets her. “I’ve been stressing out so hard about Namjoon’s birthday present, I just want to shove it at him,” she grumbles.

“I’m sure he would appreciate anything you would get him,” he mumbles, sleepy. How did she know that he would say that? Hyunjae is almost obscenely proud of how well she knows Yoongi.

“Okay, well what did you get him?” she prods, poking his cheek.

Yoongi pauses. Barely twitches. And then says, “I wrote him a song.”

Damn all these talented fuckers. First Taehyung with the aesthetic as hell photographs and then Yoongi with a whole ass song. But Hyunjae did say Yoongi is a sentimental gremlin, so this tracks. “Which one?” she asks, curious and supportive. Yoongi produces bangers. Confirmed. 

There’s a hint of a smirk on Yoongi’s face when he says, “You should know it. We provided the guiding vocals for it.” Hyunjae is initially distracted by Yoongi’s face- ugh he’s so hot- but eventually, she processes what he says. Guiding vocals?

Hyunjae recalls a vague memory of helping Yoongi record a month ago because he was just testing a song out. He said he needed a female rapper and someone cancelled or something? And the female part of the song happened to be written in her key and register??  

Oh my god. 

She gapes. “You sneaky fuck!” Now he’s definitely smirking. Hyunjae would be more upset at being tricked if she wasn’t currently overwhelmed by the need to kiss that smirk of Yoongi’s face. 

D-2.  (<-- also the title of his second mixtape!!! My talented boy!!!! We stan!!!!!!) 

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There is a reason why Hyunjae calls Namjoon her main man. This is her chingu that acts like her ride or die. The one that matches his hair color to hers when it is comeback time. The one that calls her Baby Jae and dotes on her and is always willing to give her a shoulder to cry on.

This is the thing with Namjoon. He’s smart- absolutely brilliant. Hyunjae may call him a dumbass sometimes, but the world knows that he is not. He’s a wonderful leader and he’s beautifully articulate and he’s good at his fucking job. He takes care of his boys and he takes care of his fans and he takes care of his friends too. Actually. Does she count as one of his boys? She is an honorary bro, right?

Anyway.

Hyunjae is honored to be a part of his circle. And she does not think she is being too biased by saying that he deserves the world.

She is being sappy. She knows. But she thinks she is allowed today. She is doubly allowed to run to him the moment she sees him, almost tackling him to the ground at his own party- which she does. Yoongi is behind her and she can hear him laughing at the whole scene and today is a good day.

“Happy birthday to my main man!!”

Namjoon laughs, dimples and all. Hyunjae shoves her present at him before he can even say thank you. “Present for you! On your day of birth! You’re welcome!” 

He laughs again and finally gets to say, “Thank you, Baby Jae.”

She beams at him and runs off before he can check what she gave him. As she runs away, she screams, “Happy birthday!” again and frolics off to find her unnies.

This is what Hyunjae ended up coming up with:

There is a journal on the bag. Inside the cover, a note that says: You are allowed to pick our hair color for the next comeback.

It’s a bullet journal. Hand decorated, a la Jung Hyunjae. Filled to the brim with sticky notes. There are important reminders to dates and holidays, encouraging messages, nostalgic memories.

She can’t take artistic pictures like Taehyung or write lyrics like Yoongi, but on most days, Hyunjae does know how to sentence.

So she writes a lot of fucking sentences.

Any single thing that she can remember about Namjoon, she puts it in that book.

Across the whole journal, she writes about how much she adores him, how she knows how hard he works, how proud she is of him, how she is sure that he is destined for great things.

Essentially, it is a whole lot of feelings.

(But, you know, if he didn’t like it- she also included the whole manga collection set from his favorite mangaka.)

Happy birthday, Kim Namjoon!

#member: park hyorin #member: lee aejung #member: han saehyun #member: kim sanghee #member: jung hyunjae #pairing: jimin/hyorin #pairing: taehyung/aejung #pairing: seokjin/saehyun #pairing: hoseok/sanghee #pairing: yoongi/hyunjae