#chatty wisp

[pink-wisp]

my morning so far

#chatty wisp

[pinkwisp-ttv]

our adventures with Shadowheart.

SPOILER WARNING FOR ACT I and II

Act I

spends 10 min trying to free her

She immediately says something racist

instant regret

BENCHED

slap fight with Lae’zel

tries to kill Lae’zel while she’s sleeping AND I CANT TELL HER OFF FOR IT???

BUT WHEN I, MR MYSTERIOUS URGE DOES IT-

Act II

is forgotten until the Gauntlet

gets Shadowheart in party to due her personal quest

does entire thing backwards

“We only managed to get here cuz Shar allowed it”

BITCH I CARRIED YOU THROUGH UR STUPID TRIALS

due to multiplayer issues I accidentally left before I could let her talk to Nightsong

blames me for not letting her do a lil murder uwu

IF I CANT KILL NEITHER CAN U

she leaves camp but at least i have her gear

i go back to Nightsong lady and properly free her

#bg3 spoilers #chatty wisp #im hoping i can get along with her during my next playthrough #bg3

[snails-in-spaceships]

Hot N Cold by Katy Perry is just William's petty jealous arc when Vyncent accidentally got engaged

#jrwi #jrwi prime defenders #chatty snails #ghostknife #william wisp #vyncent sol

[scrawlingskribbles]

yoooo, get you a boss/workplace that pays for you to go get a pedicure from the salon next door and lets you stay clocked in while you do it 💅✨✨

#like… we’re having renovations going on rn to add in more bathrooms for us… so to ‘compensate’ us they gifted us pedicures??? 😂😂😂 #idk it doesn’t quite track for me that we’re getting free stuff On Top Of getting more toilets but go off queen I’m not complaining~!! #man I need to ask tomorrow if that was the big bosses’ idea or our manager bc I need to know who to thank properly lol #but that was my first ever pedicure & it was nice!! :D my tech was super sweet & chatty and the color I picked is 🔥🔥 #even tho it’s basically winter so the only time the dogs’ll be out is in the shower but xD that’ll be a lil treat Just For Me then~ #shut up Wisp

[shibaraki]

MAYBE IT’S A SIGN ┊ YAMADA HIZASHI

tags: GN reader, no quirk au, meet-cute, strangers to lovers, people watching, mic is fluent in JSL, pining, mutual attraction, flirting, fluff as promised !!!

wc: 1.7K

You aren’t afraid to admit that your life is a little mundane.

Rather than resent it you get by with the little wonders. The path is much the same but never the people, and your favourite part of the day is the train journey home. A precious twenty minutes when you can sit and watch the lives unfold around you. It’s during this time that you notice him.

You’re familiar with the regular passengers—not personally, rather, they’ve taken up space in your memory, each dedicated an intricate and fabricated backstory to pass the time. This new regular is definitely somebody you’d remember. Because he’s, well.

He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Tall and lean, decently thick arms and a trim waist often hidden beneath a signature leather jacket. Bulky headphones around his neck. A trimmed moustache and vivid green eyes peering over red rimmed glasses. Waist length blond hair, like spun gold in the train cars cheap fluorescence, never worn in the same style. You’ve seen it draped around his shoulders, a sleek updo, half down, and pulled back into a braided ponytail that mimics a mohawk.

Today it has been haphazardly shoved into a messy bun, wisps falling to frame his face as he smiles at his phone. Your heart beats a little faster at the soft sight. He’s sitting closer than usual, driven deeper into the carriage by the lack of seating; close enough to catch a glimpse at the music note sticker on his phone case and the chipped red paint on his nails. Before he can look up and catch your inquisitive stare you turn it toward the window, watching the rivulets of rainwater race in the wind as the cityscape passes by.

Thoughts wander, veering toward the faint shadows under his eyes. You’ve theorised plenty and settled on him being a musician of sorts. Piano or a guitar judging by his fingers. Guitarist would suit his aesthetic, but you find the image of him as a pianist strangely romantic.

As the train rushes through a dark tunnel you’re faced with your reflection, and his own in the background. For a split second you’re certain that your eyes meet. Then the darkness vanishes, and you squint against the pale eventide light.

Your close friends have heard a lot about Train Guy. They’ve teased you to no end, finding amusement in your lack of action. Writing a plotline for a beautiful stranger might be slightly piteous but it’s all you’re going to get. It’s not like you were ever going to do anything about your attraction.

You slump against the back of your chair and fiddle with the zip on your jacket, soaking up the heated murmurings between a couple from across the carriage. Train Guy seemed the chatty type, though he always hung up whoever he was on call to as he boarded you’d caught an english word or two. They sounded natural in his mouth—a fluent accent that inferred plenty of practice. You wanted to hear him speak more, but after the doors are closed silence is sternly expected.

As your thoughts drift, so does your attention. Your heart leaps to your throat. Train Guy is reclined comfortably, baring the pale column of his throat as he keeps an ear tucked against his left headphone speaker, bouncing his leg to a tune you’re not privy to. What grips you is the suggestion of a smile hanging on his lips as he looks back at you. It’s more hesitant than it is coy. Almost as though he might be just as unsure about his footing as you.

Pointedly, he nods in the direction of the bickering couple. His mouth downturns into an exaggerated grimace, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You laugh and quickly smother the sound with your hand, heat crawling up your neck as a nearby elderly man peers up.

Train Guy’s eyes are softer now. There’s a shallow dimple by the right corner of his mouth that deepens with his grin. He sits up straighter when you smile back and butterflies hatch in your stomach. You feel their paper thin wings beat behind your ribs. Holding his hands out to draw your attention you watch his pointer fingers stop a few inches apart and bend toward one another.

At your confused frown he down it again, this time mouthing the word ‘hello’. Then he points at his chest. He silently sounds out the name ‘Ya-ma-da’ in time with his movements. His name. Your lips part in soft surprise. Mirroring the initial position of his hands, you cautiously repeat the motion, fingers bending inward. It’s JSL—and the sign quite literally mimics the image of two people bowed in greeting.

The train creaks as it slows in preparation to approach the next stop. Disappointment hangs in the air. He shuffles in his seat, getting ready to stand. He flashes you an encouraging thumbs up, eyes smiling over those yellow tinted glasses. Then his forefinger uncurls once more, forming an upside down ‘L’ shape. He draws his hand in an arc across his face and lies the opposite palm flat, swiping flat across it.

You pout after him as he gets to his feet, this time without clarifying what he’d said. He simply shucks his leather jacket closer to his chest, pulls his headphones over his head—concealing the pink blush staining his ears—and waves as the doors open.

A gust of wind plumes into the enclosed space, petrichor briefly filling your senses. Your neck turns at an awkward angle just to catch a final glimpse in the crowd as the train pulls away.

The first thing you do upon arriving home is search up basic signs. It pulls up a website with dedicated categories; signs for greetings, for navigating daily life, for family and friends. Then, as you scroll further, your mouse hovers over the embedded images for flirtatious signs. Your living room takes on a hazy, mauve rose glow, perhaps from all the blood rushing to your brain.

Unless you are misremembering, Train Guy—Yamada, had called you beautiful.

The knowledge sits restlessly with you. An amalgam of giddiness and impatience bursts through your body like a babbling brook. This sort of thing never happens to you.

You wanted to see him again. To somehow reciprocate his efforts to connect with you in the pervading silence of that train car. Clicking back on the screen, you open up the menu bar and find fingerspelling. You repeat the motions, signing out your name until fatigue from the work day wears on your bones.

The next morning starts with vigor. Your excitement only seems to make the hours drag longer, each slower than the last. Coworkers remark on your eagerness to leave—making playful comments about a new secret lover, only to be spurred on by the sheepish expression on your face.

There is no lover to speak of, not yet. Just a pretty stranger who may or may not be a musician with which you share part of your journey home.

Yamada is there when you board, already perked up and waiting. His hair is braided today, draped effortlessly over his shoulder. You immediately duck your chin to hide a smile, teeth gnawing your inner cheek as you take the spot across from him.

A hush falls over the passengers when you hear the doors click shut. You glimpse up through your lashes. Yamada leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cheek resting in his palm. Anticipation swoops through your belly. You can’t help a nervous glance at the people around you as you sign hello to him.

Before he can respond, your finger points to your chest. Something flashes in Yamada’s eyes, now raptly watching while you sign out your name. Brighter still the instant you point at him, arc your forefinger and thumb across your face, and wipe across the opposite palm.

Beautiful.

Pink looks good on him, you think. Oscillating between flustered and frustrated, Yamada’s hands clench and unclench in his lap, seemingly agitated that he can’t use his words. You exhale a long held breath as he pats down his jacket pockets, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth while he types.

Once he finishes he leans across the gap to offer you the phone. You grip the seat handle and stretch to take it, static zipping down your spine when your fingers brush. Written up on the open notes app is:

Do you want to get off at my stop so I can take you out for coffee? YEAH! or no :-(

You huff a laugh through your nose, bringing the screen close to your front and typing your reply with a furtive glance as if it were a big secret just between the two of you.

YEAH! ✔️ I’d love to.

Yamada peeks at the response and dramatically holds the phone to his heart. This time when the train slows at the familiar stop you stand with him. Close enough to smell his warm scented cologne and leather. Shoulder to shoulder as you wait for the doors to open you feel those lithe fingers extend to brush your own. He doesn’t take your hand but it’s a close thing.

The arm resting a hair's breadth from your lower back guides you onto the platform and through the oncoming influx of passengers to a quieter spot. Alone together you drink each other in. Nervously tugging your sleeve to your wrist, you wet your lips and say, “…Hi”.

Yamada’s eyes squinted under the magnitude of his grin, nose wrinkled enough that his glasses slipped just a fraction. “Hey,” he returns. The low baritone of his voice settles over you like silk and you get the inkling that your life is about to become a little less mundane.

Even then, you’re certain that your favourite part of the day would always be the train journey home.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi x reader

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - JJK | FOURTEEN

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours. "Hey, Byeol?" "Mhmm?" "You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bad Decision #14 - New Rules

warnings: jungkook incorrectly does a bird!!! byeols bird is unhinged!! smut - fingering!! oc hasn't shaved and jk simply prefers it that way! no kissing rule established (boo), no pet names rule established (double boo), no hand holding either!!!! jk has a huge boner <3 f receiving, nothing for him!!! rules are rules!!! mirrors <3 jk is always so chatty he he , mild hand kink?

soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter; wrong- zayn, kehlani

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 450k (on-going)

minors dni | 

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

"Hey," you greet Jungkook with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying. 

The way he looks you up and down gives it away.

Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.

Jungkook can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.

You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.

You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him. 

You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours. He's welcome in your space.

But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jungkook takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.

The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.

"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.

It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.

Jungkook gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.

It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship. 

For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely. 

Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally. 

Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.

And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.

"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.

She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.

You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on. 

"Pole."

"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.

"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."

Jungkook doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"

There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.

"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"

He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."

The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.

"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."

"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."

The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual. 

And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jungkook fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him. 

Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.

When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jungkook makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.

The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree. 

"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."

He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.

It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.

Until, all of a sudden, he's not.

Jungkook: DB. 

You: That's no better than disco ball.

Jungkook: It's better than BD.

You: ...Ball disco?

Jungkook: Big Ditties.

You: Oh my god.

You: I'm blocking you.

Jungkook: No you're not. Come hang out. 

Jungkook: Coursework is driving me insane.

Jungkook: Need a distraction.

You: Good. Hope it does <3

Jungkook: :( comeee.

You: No :) x

You arrive a little after ten. 

Jungkook is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off. 

He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way. 

"Thought you said you weren't coming?"

Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."

He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."

"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold. 

"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."

It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home. 

If you knew the grilling Jungkook's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jungkook if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can. 

But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.

Jungkook doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.

He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.

But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.

Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.

And so he doesn't mention Jimin.

When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.

He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies. 

"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?" 

He nods.

"Why?"

He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."

You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot.

"We both know that this isn't what that means."

"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue. 

"Because!" 

You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be. 

"No, because what, Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.

"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Kook. You know this."

There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably. 

"The bird says-"

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."

"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"

"You've seen my tits, no?"

"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."

"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."

"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.

"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"

"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"

You're stern as you stare him down. "Jungkook."

"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised. 

You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."

He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you. 

"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."

"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."

You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"

"Because."

There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.

"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"

"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."

You don't. 

"Byeol."

"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.

"Stop."

"You stop."

"Byeol."

And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.

"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely. 

It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too. 

"And I told you to stop being a baby."

He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.

You're close. Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close. He thinks of the last time you were this close. 

Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again. 

But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-

"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies. 

Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jungkook looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it. 

He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.

"How bad is it this time?"

You just whine again. 

"That bad?"

Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.

"Stop," you tell him, pouting. 

He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"

"No," you cut him off before he can finish. 

He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.

"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."

You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up. 

"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."

You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"

He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."

"It's okay. We don't have-"

"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."

"You do?"

"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"

You suppose he's right. Tell him as much. 

"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"

"You think you need it?" You grin.

"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."

They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold. 

"You've got nice hands," you admit. 

Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.

"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.

"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "'Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.

He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling. 

You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out. 

You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jungkook.  Too much pride. 

"How do we do this?" you whisper. 

He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."

"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"

"I mean, it could be a start," Jungkook laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."

You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.

"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jungkook asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know. 

The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.

GET FINGERED.

You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.

"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."

Jungkook pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"

"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jungkook pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."

Jungkook wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to. 

"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."

"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jungkook theorises. "Control?"

You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe.

"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jungkook pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.

"Hey, Byeol?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."

"I know I do," Jungkook replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."

You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"

He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."

"Always a charmer."

"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."

"I mean, we could just get therapy."

"Expensive."

"Time-consuming," you agree.

"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"

"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an 'ask nicely, Jungkook.'"

He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"

"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.

There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint. 

This one is just you and Jungkook.

"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jungkook in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.

As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jungkook keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels. 

Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jungkook's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.

Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jungkook's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.

"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise. 

"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"

"No, I just-"

"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."

"You like it?"

"I like pussy," Jungkook simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."

"You're not eating it."

"Not yet."

"You are unbelievable."

"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets you standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.

He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.

Jungkook's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically. 

A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.

It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jungkook fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.

You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent. 

"Rules," he nods.

"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.

"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."

In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.

And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.

He only likes it because of how intimate it is.

"Anything else?"

You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."

"Not even Byeol?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Kook. Byeol is fine."

He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust. 

"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."

"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"

His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.

"Would be such a turn-off."

The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.

"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"

His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"

"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."

"No?"

He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."

You fucking giggle. It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing. 

"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon."

He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jungkook as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.

The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster. 

"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."

"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."

He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."

All you can do is nod. 

"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him. "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."

And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"

"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties. 

"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."

He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you. 

He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger. 

The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy. Gets him all smug. 

"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance.  He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy. 

Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control. 

He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down. 

It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful. Delicate. Wants you to feel good. 

When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.

He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.

Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.

"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."

Withdrawing his finger, Jungkook rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"

The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."

He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.

And Jungkook would be right. The way Jungkook has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.

His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.

You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.

"Kook," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."

"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"

All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.

He can tell.

"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?" 

He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.

He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.  

It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat. 

He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you. 

It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.

But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.

"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit. "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"

Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck." 

"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jungkook has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high. 

"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.

"Better?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."

Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display. 

Jungkook withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more. Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you. 

He's panting, too. 

And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.

He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.

"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs. 

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.

"That better, Byeol?" 

All you can do is whine. Nod a little. 

"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"

"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."

"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."

"Sorry?"

"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."

And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol." 

He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still. 

You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"

It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more. 

He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.

"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."

You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.

"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"

You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."

His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."

The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin. You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"

He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.

"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"

"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down. 

He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases. 

"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"

He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.

"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets. 

"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."

"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him. 

"Liar."

"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.

You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.

"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."

You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."

You say nothing. Do as you're told.

"Good girl."

It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.

But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jungkook just fucking laughs.

"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.

Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.

He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jungkook is pleased. You look content. 

"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."

He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.

"Such a liar."

But you both are, in your own ways. 

"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.

"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.

The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him. 

He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jungkook's been right about this all along.

"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."

"Hmm?"

"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."

Jungkook says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?

You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.

"You... want me to invite a girl round?"

"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."

"Yeah, but-" Jungkook wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.

"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"

He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.

But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward. 

"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #bd!jk #bad decisions

[idyllic-affections]

venti and xiao would be the best big brothers!!

venti would sing you to sleep whenever you seem to have trouble doing it yourself, and xiao would just loom over you /j

xiao would be so protective though i think

when their sibling can't sleep.

summary. how do venti and xiao comfort a sleepless little sibling?

trigger & content warnings. insomnia.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort. venti & younger sibling!reader, xiao & younger sibling!reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. youre so right alyssa (are we on first name basis? idk, please tell me if not haha) they would be the best big brothers!!! i imagine that anemo boys in general are just good brothers..... i should write for kazuha. i love him and i dont talk about it enough HSKSGAJFJF

what do venti and xiao do when their sibling can't sleep?

venti gives the best comfort tbh. oh, [name] can't sleep? he's there in an instant. no hesitation. they'll be tossing and turning and suddenly, the windborne bard is tapping at their window with a grin and a wave. archons know where he gets that information from (the thousand winds told him, but no-one needs to know that the chatty little wind wisps are his source! it's a trade secret!), so it seems like he just has some kind of sixth sense for when they can't sleep because he's always there when it happens. he'll gently lay their head in his lap, gingerly fidgeting with their hair if he's not playing his lyre that night in particular. sometimes he'll rub little patterns on the skin of their shoulder and upper arm; his calloused fingertips are oddly soothing. his voice is undoubtedly akin to that of a siren's. he is a bard, after all. his voice is his career.

of course, in this case, his voice is his tool to get his baby sibling to fall asleep.

i like to think venti would sing them a lullaby from old mondstadt, maybe one he learned from one of his friends. he might opt for a softer version of a folk song, or maybe a lullaby he picked up from a different nation entirely. who knows? whatever he settles on, he expects nothing in return.

he usually doesn't stay the whole night through, but when he does, it's because he himself is struggling mentally and needs the company just as much as they do.

ultimately, venti is free as the wind, a fleeting yet soothing touch of comfort to ease the one he loves into getting a good night's rest.

xiao definitely just... looms ominously in the corner. /lh

he's not like venti in that he just knows when they can't sleep—more often than not, they have to call out for him. he'll always, always appear without fail when it comes to them. he always encourages them to call his name if something is wrong. sometimes, however, he might check up on them randomly and find out that way. he's very protective, indeed, and often checks on them in the middle of the night at random times.

nevertheless, he finds out somehow.

xiao cannot offer many words. he just isn't very articulate when it comes to offering comfort. he can, however, offer to cuddle with them if they so desire (he is hesitant, though; xiao is very terrified of harming them. he never wants to hurt them in any way. he'd never forgive himself if he did).

if his presence alone is comforting enough, then he'll stalk around their room, likely settling at the foot of their bed or somewhere where he can see them and silently and effectively get rid of any potential threats that might appear.

it's very unlikely that someone would break in or that a monster would appear, but xiao is on edge nonetheless. he's protective. he would never let anything or anyone even get close to bringing them harm.

xiao is, unlike venti, the lingering presence that scares off anything that might be preventing the one he loves from getting a good night's rest.

they're both very good brothers, they just show it in different ways. <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸 #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader #platonic xiao x reader #platonic venti x reader

[grappel-writes]

Fuck it: how the BG3 companions would give a massage Gale: Have no fear, a man with more than the amateur's understanding of anatomy is here. He's chatty the entire time, explaining that your lower back is sore because it's your hamstrings that are actually tight, you see. Hands on his hips, he waits expectantly for you to lay down for him, on your stomach. How else is he supposed to get to both problem areas? Arms under your head as a pillow, you take your time getting adjusted. He promises to be a perfect gentleman and never venture too far where he's not invited. He follows the flows of muscle, identifying where they just won't let go after a full day of hauling around a pack and setting up camp. With only as much pressure as you can handle before it's painful, he quickly identifies where the worst of it is and focuses there. Little warm wisps of weave work into weary muscles and aid clever hands. All the while you're letting yourself be talked away from the feeling, somehow lost in a story about how he was once able to identify a man's limp was from a run in with a Naga. Before you know it, he's sitting back on his heels, looking rather proud of himself, and you feel... great, actually. That worked wonders and you hardly even felt it happening. Of course he knows it works, and of course he'd be happy to do it again any time. Lae'zel: You've complained of your tension headache one too many times, and she's tired of hearing it. "Sit." You're commanded, and she nods to the spot on the ground in front of her log stool. Before you can respond over eagerly to kneel in front of her or look at her in disbelief that she would request that of you, she explains you're to face away from her, hair pulled away from your neck. When you do as told, almost immediately there's a pointy elbow in your trapezius. You wince, and she hisses at you to be still. Through a dull ache, eventually, it loosens and you're able to compose yourself. Until she repeats it on the other side. Before you can thank her, she continues up the back of your neck with hard, insistent presses to the base of your skull and back down again. It's easy to imagine her intense look as she focuses at the task at hand. Working you as if you're just another blade to be sharpened. Now, far more easy than her near bruising touch from earlier, she presses behind your jaw and against your temple, and like magic, the headache evaporates. "There. Better? Now I don't have to hear your incessant crying." Karlach: A sympathetic look and an eagar invitation to sit next to her, and she pulls your leg up and into your lap. You lean back on her scattered pillows when she pulls you closer. She's no stranger to days long marches, putting one foot in front of the other even when you're beyond the point of collapse. Learned how to recover after them, too. Large, warm hands squeeze over the entirety of your calf and you drop your head back with a laugh. It aches, but in a good way,and you have no idea how to respond to the sensation other than to laugh. She laughs at you too, and keeps at it, big squeezes over the widest part of your muscle that make you jump and melt and laugh and wince every time. Down to the ankle, up to the knee, there's no technique or consideration for how the muscles work, just large, strong squeezes that force the tired away. It's invigorating, it's painful, it's wonderful. She grasps the top of your thighs, right above the knee, and tells you to punch her if she gets to comfortable. But laying flat on your back, tingling and numb legs elevated onto her lap, under her warm and unshaking hold, you couldn't imagine ever wanting this to end. Part: 1/2

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #fluff #bg3 #karlach #karlach cliffgate #lae'zel #laezel #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 headcanons

[nocturnalghoul]

Pretty please with a cherry on top, 🍒

Could you write

— “we don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. we can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.”

Wiiiiiith Cirrus being the one being comforted by a ghoul/ette of your choice for the touch starved prompts?

-@ghouletteanon

Hello my dear, I am so sorry this sat half finished for so long, but here ya go :D

So originally this was going to be with Sunny, but then Swiss shoved her out of the way in my mind. Some Swiss and Cirrus sweetness below the cut

For no particular reason, this has been one of the worst weeks Cirrus has had since she came topside. All week she has been pushing those feelings down, focusing on everything she needs to get done but it is obvious that soon all of it is going to spill out.

Cirrus knows that she is tough, strong, reliable… the other ghouls depend on her. She can power through until the end of the day when Lus and Sunny would be back and the three of them could curl up while she lets all of her frustrations out. It’s fine she thinks, she is fine. 

As she walks back towards the ghoul dorm after finishing up her chores,she can already see the leaves in the courtyard start to swirl around her as her emotions start to win out and magic bleeds into the air around her. All she has to do is make it to her room without making a scene. Surely even if none of the other ghoulettes are in the dorms, some part of her pack will be to at least help distract her. 

However, by the time she crosses into the threshold of the common area of the ghoul dorms that last thread of composure flutters away as the storm of emotion she has been shoving down all week explodes out of her. She can feel her hair whip around violently as a cyclone starts to form centered on her. There is no sign of anybody else being there, so she just collapses into the center of the room before breaking down crying, her earlier hopes of distraction long since swept away. 

All the thoughts and anxieties she has been feeling all week whip around her, howling through her brain drowning out any other thoughts. 

Suddenly, she is faintly aware of somebody grabbing her hand and looks up to see Swiss calmly sitting cross legged across from her, hand holding her own firmly despite the onslaught of air hitting him in the face. 

The wind tunnel effect distorts the softness of his smile slightly in a silly display but it still persists as he patiently waits for the rushing air to settle down around them as Cirrus forces herself to take deep steadying breaths. 

There are still faint wisps of air swirling lazily around her, but the overwhelming storm seems to have dissipated. “Swiss…” she croaks out, not quite sure what else to say. It doesn’t really matter, Swiss simply gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and leans forward to give her a swift kiss between the horns before pulling her up into a sitting position with him. 

“It’s okay Cir’, we don't have to talk if you don't want to. We can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.” he whispers while wrapping one arm around her for support. 

The pair sit there like that for what Cirrus is sure has to be at least 20 minutes, but Swiss later insists was only 5. She lets her vision drift absently to the still ajar door to the garden Swiss must have come in from, as the multi ghoul unlaces both of their boots, gingerly removing them and tossing them towards the side of the room out of the way.

Finally, Cirrus seems to snap out of her daze and scoots even closer, burying her head into Swiss’s shoulder to cry softly as he wraps her in a tight grounding hug. She lets him pick her up off the floor and wordlessly move the both of them to the nearby couch. 

For such a normally chatty ghoul, Swiss truly can be an amazing listener. He lets Cirrus dump out everything that has been upsetting her this week, offering up only small hums of reassurement until she leaves clear openings for input. The entire time Swiss’s broad hand rubs up and down her back as he lets the small amount of fire magic inside him wrap around Cirrus like a warm blanket. Eventually she dozes off in his arms, and he follows not far behind. 

As the rest of the ghouls filter in, they find the pair sweetly curled up on the couch and quietly tiptoe around them. Everyone could tell that Cirrus has been wound tight all week and seeing her so carefree and relaxed is a welcome sight that they wouldn’t dare interrupt. Sunny and Cumulus will likely coax their sleeping beauty to tell them her troubles later, but for now both are extremely relieved that Swiss was around to help her when she finally snapped.

#nocturnal writings #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #cirrus ghoulette #swiss ghoul #ghoulette anon #omg I got home and immediately published this. yay i managed to not post at 4am lol

[hellfireslut]

What a Prude!

prude

/pro͞od/

Learn to pronounce

noun

noun: prude; plural noun: prudes

a person who is or claims to be easily shocked by matters relating to sex or nudity.

paring : eddie munson x shy!fem!oc

characters : eddie munson, nancy wheeler, robin buckley, steve harrington

warnings : mentions of sex, the whole squad high out their asses, mentions of marijuana, a bit of angst, a cute ending

word count : 1k

summary: Eddie and Valerie have been together for 9 months. The pressure of sex is weighing on her shoulders. She gains reassurance from her best friends Robin, Steve, and Nancy. Along with her boyfriend, Eddie Munson. The group finds that the pair are more alike than they knew.

a/n : this is the most fun i’ve ever had writing. reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

December 15th, 1986, Valarie’s Basement

The cold and crisp December air wisped around snow outside of Valarie’s home. In the basement of her childhood home sat: Steve Harrington, the charming and quick-witted pretty boy. Nancy Wheeler, the brains of the group. Robin Buckley, the “Chatty Cathy”. Eddie Munson, Hawkins local “freak”. And Valarie Boyd, the mouse.

The group sat as the musical tellings of “Queen” sang in the environment of their conversation. Snickers and laughs spread throughout the concrete walls, as the topic of sex was at hand. The smell of marijuana wafted the noses of the squad. High out of his mind, Steve laughed as he said,

“Anyone who’s past the age of 20 and a virgin, is staying that way! I’m glad I got out of that club as soon as I could.” He threw his head back as Nancy looked at him snorting in laughter. Nancy took a puff from the blunt, passing it towards Valarie. Valarie shook her hand, denying a hit.

Her eyes closed as she spoke. “I’ve had enough for tonight. When I close my eyes I can’t see!” The whole group erupted into laughter at her sentence.

“Well of course you can’t see idiot, your eyes are closed.” Eddie pulled her hands away from her face, softly kissing her forehead, falling into her lap. She softly pet the top of his head, scratching it softly.

“Gosh, can you two get a room. I can smell your pheromones from here. Some of us are single.” Robin said, leaning forward to high-five Steve from across the couch.

“You guys make me miss Jonathan. Ugh I wish I was in California. Riding a vespa!” Nancy giggled.

The group had many insufferable moods during their sessions. Depressive, giddy, and horny. The bunch was currently in the horny “stage” of their highs.

“You’d be riding more than a vespa if you’re with him Nance,” The group looked at Robin as the dirty words left her innocent lips. “What! I know you were all thinking it! Especially Eddie!”

Eddie’s head lifted off Valarie’s lap, throwing up a thumbs up, as he plopped back on her thighs.

“I’m going to get drinks, what do you guys want?” Steve said, rising from the sofa.

“Lemonade.”

“Iced tea.”

“Malt liquor.”

The group all turned their heads to Eddie, who was laughing at his own response.

“Alright then, water for Eddie.” Steve began walking up the wooden stairs of the basement, making his way to the kitchen.

~

Robin followed up the stairs after a couple minutes, helping Steve carry all the drinks down the stairs of the basement.

Eddie lifted his head off Valarie’s lap, leaning up against her shoulder.

“You look so cute when you’re high babe, your eyes are really red though.” Valarie rubbed her eyes, only making the ruby color shine brighter.

Robin and Steve came down the stairs, all of their drinks in hand. They handed each cup to everyone. Steve sat back down, next to Valarie and Eddie this time. He was burnt out, turning to Eddie.

“How long have you two been together again? You act like a married couple.”

“Nine months, Steve. It’s felt like forever though and I can’t get enough of him.” Valarie kissed Eddie’s temple, he let out a soft groan.

“And she’s still a virgin, and almost 20, take that Stevie-boy.” Eddie said chuckling harder than how funny the remark was.

“Eddie! Don’t go telling everyone my business!” Valarie got up, walking to the other side of the couch, sitting by Nancy instead.

“Woah! Someone’s a prude!” Robin stated loudly. Nancy hit her on her shoulder. “Not cool Rob!”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was joking when I said that Val, I think it’s kinda cool how you don’t let your relationship pressure you into anything.” Steve’s apology sounded genuine, causing Valarie to mouth “It’s fine” to him.

“Yeah, I wish I was more like that, I mean Jonathan and I did it before we even started dating.” Nancy stated, matter-of-factly.

“Wait, you’re not a virgin? What did I miss?” Robin looked at Nancy, betrayed.

“Robin, hun, you’re the only one that’s still really high. We’ve all mostly,” he said looking at Steve “sobered up.” Steve punched Eddie’s arm, causing him to hit him back harder. Valarie laughed, letting out a snort.

“Man, I’m going to sit by the fan, I need fresh air.”

“That’s not fresh- you know what, nevermind go ahead Robin.” Nancy watched as she flopped on the recliner closest to the fan plugged into the corner.

Valarie sat quiet rethinking Robin’s comments. “Prude!” rang through her mind and it spit out evil nothings causing her to pout. She leaned over to Eddie and whispered in his ear,

“Babe, does it bother you that we haven’t done anything sexual at all? I mean 9 months seems like more than enough time. I guess I’m just not ready.”

“Sweetheart, you’re acting like I’m not also a virgin.” Eddie said the last words a little too loudly, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads once again at his words, simultaneously.

“YOU’RE BOTH VIRGINS?” Robin, Nancy, and Steve all said at once, shouting too loudly for the couples ears. Eddie flapped his hands around, signaling them to quiet down.

“Yes, look at me. Do you expect me not to be?” The whole group spit out their shares of “Well, I guess you’re right”

Valarie’s face was suddenly bright, appreciating her boyfriend standing up for her.

“What are you guys waiting for then? Rip your clothes off!” Robin said, still clearly the highest out of the crowd. Steve threw a pillow at her, causing a yelp from Robin across the room, as she giggled tackling him down to the ground.

“Get him Rob!”

“Mess up his hair! That’ll show him!”

“NO NOT THE HAIR! ANYTHING BUT THE HAIR!” Steve said, letting out a loud laugh from across the room.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #fiction #fluff #writing #eddie munson x you #headcanons #imagines #eddie munson angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley smut #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x robin buckley #eddie munson smut

[pink-wisp]

watching stars wars for the first time and two things

ANIKIN WTF

and hans is boobs out all the time

#chatty wisp

[pinkwisp-ttv]

thnks im trying

#i love this emote tho lol #chatty wisp

[slumbering-girl]

Ori and the Will of the Wisps

Yes, I played the first one, I cried much with that one, because it's so darn sad. I cried a bit less with this one, but still pretty much. Stupid game.

Also it's beautiful. And they made everything better somehow, even if the first one was really great. Platforming, or rather, flying around the map was excellent, fluid, satisfying. This time there were also chatty creatures around, also side-quests and challenges. I especially liked cute lil Moki and both wise and mossy frogge.

Ah, Kwolok, I'll miss you.

There are few, very distinct interesting areas. I kinda didn't like the one underground with the darkness mechanic, but made it through. There are also lakes, desolate landscapes, sand-buried ruins, ice and snow, somehow even clock tower from Castlevania (not really, but yes).

Play this game if you didn't, it's really one of the best metroidvanias around.

#video games #gaming #game review #ori and the will of the wisps

[magnusmodig]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄-𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 soothed the skin , for the wind itself was a most lithe and faithful companion. it feathered through thor's hair , curled around his shoulders in silk embrace , and nudged briskly at his feet before skipping through the budding leaves and shoots of grass.

overhead , it moved the very skies. trickles of moonlight bled silver through the speckled dusting and wisps of clouds. stars twinkled far past even them , glittering in some other star systems in a great beyond.

the wind was chatty this day. no doubt to thor that it spoke of faraway travels and the bumping ride across ocean tides. no doubt it carried upon it the tales from the stars beyond what thor could see , and here the god of storms stood , DEAF TO ITS SIREN CALL.

WHAT WOULD FATHER THINK OF THAT? thor mused , a bitter smile plucking at the edges of his lips. in an instant , it fell again. thor had no doubt his father would find the state of him outright disgraceful. absolutely detestable. it was one thing for ODIN ALL-FATHER to tap a branch of the all-force , and entirely another for the forces of another to swing an axe to it. though then , perhaps he would think it thor's own fault.

( though then , perhaps he would be right. )

sighing through his nose , thor cast his gaze from the tousled grass and the whispering canopy towards those distant stars , and wondered then : do you still watch over me now , father ?

#(he's in a mood) #(thor's complex opinions of his father drive me utterly bananas) #(he hates him and he loves him and he wants nothing to do with him and still pines for his guidance and love) #(and he can't stand being anything like the worst parts of him and idk he's having the Big Think atm.) #drabble #aevum drabble #( ic . ) — son of odin . the crown is a heavy burden for thee . #(hmmmm i'lllll leave this open for my aevum moots) #( open . ) — the dance of the leaves when the autumn wind blows . #aevum open

[vivacissimx]

Hey, how are you? I asked you yesterday if I still could ask you about certain wisps you made and you said yes. So here we go…

First what you mean by Kingdom of heaven/ Dany origin story if Rhaella slayed, that’s sounds a quite funny topic, what is the plot?Second have you written anything about TOJ, I always found the mystery surrounding it and all the speculations people make quite interesting to say the least, I mean c’mon it’s Jon Snow birthplace.

Finally for hotd- verse I’m interest in “life on dragonstone” because I love the Targaryens and I want to know more about their life in their home island, especially for Rhaenrya after all it was her seat for more than 24 years (I think).

But only share your wisps if you want to. 😊Also if I was supposed to only ask you one thing, I’m sorry, just choose one of the three. I’m just a very curious person and given the opportunity (and also the courage) I will inquiry people about every single subject. Thanks I’m advance. 👏🏼

yeah the more the merrier!

kingdom of heaven

the premise of this is that aerys dies at duskendale (rip bozo) and that rhaegar became a boy king type at 16. however this is a rhaella POV so not too much on that, i do want to explore the distance between rhaegar and rhaella--esp with him now in the shoes of aerys. she's developed a psychogenic itch issue over time as a result of the abuse which causes rhaegar to worry & employ a few of her ladies to keep him apprised of her condition, which she understands as him "spying" on her.

i wanted to play with rhaegar's whole reading ancient texts at 3 thing as being helped along by rhaella's gift with tongues/translation, maybe even an interest in history. and given aerys' mentioned growing refusal to cooperate with the iron bank, there now being a need for an ambassador to be sent to braavos in order to negotiate the repayment structure.

rhaegar, who's been trying to connect to rhaella via books like how they bonded when he was a kid, comes to think rhaella would actually be a good addition to the party doing this & she agrees because she realizes one day that she's never left westeros. there she meets the tattered prince who is employed as her bodyguard (she has a complex about the kingsguard considering aerys' kingsguard didn't keep her safe). they bond over these empty titles they have that caused them so much pain & suffering and yknow it's a daenerys origin story so you can guess what happens next !

“Seed born of your royal father,” Pycelle blusters. “With all due respect, your Grace, to the Queen, to whom I have provided services over many a year but this child is not… born in the purple chambers, so to speak.”

“Rather blown in with the wind, hm?” the new Queen speaks. Perhaps impertinently, but Lyanna Stark’s face is yet soft with the fat of pregnancy, and a babe of her own lies in the royal nursery. Rhaella releases a pain she did not know she held and sees her son’s wife with a clarity she could not, in years before.

Rhaegar holds Rhaella’s blessed bundle in his own arms. He has not yet looked up.

Rhaella wishes to go to him—an old ache that she has always tamped down, a reflexive you are not allowed you will taint him you are watched and found wanting ringing through her fingers. The itch threatens her. A first since Braavos.

It is left to him to fill the distance, then. 

Him to raise his face so bright and measured, find her eyes with his own, so much darker than hers, yet of her and her son still. “Daenerys Windblown,” the King softly says, in front of all the Council. “Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the Windblown. Long awaited.”

“Perhaps one day she shall be Queen," Lyanna adds, defiant, denying any other the chance to speak. To which Rhaella can think only of Braavos' salty streets instead, and festival masks crowned with seashells—and freedom from all such premonitions

TOJ / all candles fall quiet

this is just vibes lol i like the chatty chattyness of two people newly in luv

“Fine, then. Your turn.”

Rhaegar hums, pretends to think about it. “The Others. The Others take this, the Others take that.”

Lyanna frowns. “You jape me. I heard southron men say it often at that last grand tourney. We Northerners are surely not the only ones who would say this.”

“Southroners say it, certainly,” he concedes, “yet not half so often. In the streets of King’s Landing, you will oft hear Maegor’s teats, or Seven Hells.”

She snorts. “Seven this, Seven that.”

“Shall the Others take them too?” he teases, and she groans. “You’re terrible!”

“Apologies,” he murmurs, bringing her hand to his mouth and brushing his mouth across her skin, rubbing his nose at the knuckle of each finger. Gods be good, her skin is always so comfortingly cold. “Your turn.”

“Arbor Gold?” she tries, and he arches a brow.

life on dragonstone

meant to be a slice of life with the rhaenyra/laena/harwin/laenor/daemon/qarl hexagon going on. i LOVE this dynamic that george gave us by accident i assume, i think it's so interesting & it's the one thing in fire & blood that i desperately wish had an equivalent in the main story.

Life has not gone quite according to plan, admittedly. Rhaenyra doesn’t wonder if perhaps… in the future, should her sons look back, how they might think of her. Of the choices she’s made, whether the love she has given them has been enough to make up for all the horror they have been subjected to? 

No, that is not fair to herself, Rhaenyra does not believe. They will not be children forever. She has walked into her life with her eyes wide open and her children will do the same. Laenor did, when she wed him, Daemon as well, Harwin always professed to. Rhaenyra has never asked anyone to accept what they could not for her sake, nor would she take upon herself more than she could handle simply in love’s name. Everything she has ever done is by her own free choice.

Perhaps Laena knew that better than anyone. It is this loss that Rhaenyra feels most keenly, as one who would be a mother to Laena's girls.

#fic asks #rhaella targaryen #text #rhaelya

[antihibikase2]

Death no longer tormented Shauntal, cruel as it sounded.

Even if it was the funeral of her best friend's mother, she remained calm as everyone around her crumbled, worried about the growing fight outside, all the while she babysat Grimsley's kid sibling.

Little Cheri was always such a peculiar child.

It came as a surprise to Shauntal that the little one was being followed around by only one ghost whose face she and her grandmothers could not decipher, compared to the many, distinguishable faces that followed her and many others.

Such as Grimsley- whose mother's spirit was beginning to form, picking who to side between him and his father as they argued.

She sees one of the grown ups- the one with a blonde daughter putting flowers on Mrs. Slater's casket, stand up from pew, while his wife reminds him to not partake in a squabble between father and son, especially when both were hurting.

His daughter remains oblivious to whatever the grown ups were arguing about, but she jumps off the little wooden stool to approach her and little Cheri- who had fallen asleep on her lap.

"Cheri?" She holds up a white flower.

Shauntal smiled at the little blonde girl- she too was peculiar.

No ghosts followed her, but she had a strange aura- one of regret and worry.

The spirit that could have haunted her was bound somewhere that couldn't reach her; all they had to give her was a will-o-wisp, one that would lead her to them someday.

"Cheri is sleeping right now," Shauntal says, a finger held up against her lips. "But if you want, I can give them that flower later."

"Give to Cheri?" Her green eyes blinked, pursing her lips into a pout and puffing her cheeks. "Promise?"

She holds up her pinky to the little girl with a giggle. "Of course! Pinky promise!"

This pleases the little girl. She gives the flower to Shauntal without so much as a fuss, and runs back to picking more for Mrs. Slater.

"Oh, you're such a heavy sleeper, aren't you?" She talks to the little one in her arms. "That's good- your brother is so unruly sometimes. He can be quite loud."

Her point was proven at the sound of glass shattering against the floor; she hoped it was Grimsley throwing a fit.

She chose to believe his father was a good man, if not simply misunderstood.

Cheri's head shifts a little, soft hair brushing against her neck.

"What a rowdy family you have," She sighs. "Hopefully, you won't be anything like them when you're older."

...

"I saw your brother," Shauntal says with a grin, watching Grimsley pick up the Pokeballs on the floor.

Someone was caught off-guard, she thought.

"I was the first one he challenged."

"And he left me for last," His pride as a trainer may have been shattered, but a part of Grimsley couldn't help but feel a little good about Cheri's- Cheren's growth. "I got swept. Badly."

"No kidding?"

"Marshal gave him his Gigalith-"

"Now, now. It's unfair to give Marshal all the credit."

"I know, but-"

He takes a deep breath.

"..I just didn't expect him to be this good already. He's bonded quick with Marshal's Gigalith. He seemed to be in sync with the rest of his party."

"Then," Shauntal beams. "You're worrying over nothing."

"You think so?"

"Seems to me he grew into quite the splitting image of you, back in your younger days- and he's just as chatty."

She sits atop her Jellicent, amused smile on her face.

"He has the same determination in his eye, a desire to prove something- not to mention, he's wearing similar clothes too. Maybe he still looks up to his big brother Giima after all?"

There's a moment of silence.

"You think so?"

"Mhm."

"Even if I've been a good-for-nothing, absent brother?"

"Hey, you're the one saying those things, not me."

There's a slight rumble under the heels of her sandals- but before she notices, she gives Grimsley a big thumbs up.

"You're doing just fine."

...

A castle rises from the depths.

The gym leaders took the front entrance, while the Elite Four went through the back, capturing as many grunts as possible, halting any chance of escape.

A few slipped through their fingers.

Shauntal wondered if whoever poisoned Cheren was one of those people.

She could do nothing but watch as Grimsley collapsed to the floor, his brother in his arms-

But no ghost appeared.

Rather, the blue-eyed doppelganger that's been following him all this time seems to have disappeared.

She doesn't wish to know what it means- at least not know.

All she can do is crouch beside her friend, a comforting hand rubbing his back.

#bw/bw2 rewrite #drabble #death cw