#also if anything sounds stupid i typed this up at near midnight <3

[zahroreadsthings]

hmm vriska thoughts under the cut

putting this under the cut because it's going to be mostly incoherent rambling from someone who wasn't around for the vriscourse but i mentioned in a tag before vriska's actions followed a pretty simple pattern to me and i want to study her like a bug

like a lot of things boil down to

she gives the distinct impression that she had bad choices, didn't see a way out, and eventually decided to get comfortable (eg killing trolls to feed her lusus - she's not shown to have a problem with it, but also seems disappointed after her conversation with kanaya when she sees her lusus is still alive, and also doesn't take up karkat's offer to bring her lusus back to life)

i think this eventually devolved to her thinking she doesn't have control over her actions or their consequences at all, which in turn (ironically, given her whole thing) made her incredibly easy to manipulate (rolling her dice and determining she has bad luck she can't fight against, and then being exploited by doc scratch - he says at least once 'you'll do this anyway, i'm just telling you what's already been laid out'), which she uses to absolve herself of responsibility

which isn't to say she has no responsibility, obviously; the thing that pulls it all together is the way she exploits others she sees as beneath her. in her first few appearances i remember thinking 'peak white woman' - but obviously not just a white woman thing, i'm sure any member of a marginalised community knows at least someone else who's marginalised and tries to feel better about their position in society by exploiting people with less social/political power (side note: i also think she feels her position among the 'blue bloods' is precarious too; if terezi's comment to aradia about being a little too teal for their tastes is anything to go by that would mean her caste neighbour is also on thin ice)

and i'm sure her whole thing can largely be chalked up to her relationship with her lusus; in the best case scenario she fed her lusus of her own free will, and in the worst case scenario (if [s] make her pay is any indication of the power a lusus has over their troll) it's entirely possible spidermum had at least some direct control over vriska's actions

(which also means that if that is the case she's very new to making decisions without outside influence, and that's a skill we all develop) (and boy is she not doing great <3)

so personally, the question i kept in mind while reading act 5 act 1 wasn't 'did vriska do anything wrong/was she justified' but 'how much control over a situation does she have vs how much does she think she has vs how much does she pretend to have' because those are all wildly different

which is all to say, after reading this her decision to wake john up and claim responsibility for making him a hero makes complete sense

AG: Relaaaaaaaax.

AG: Listen, John.

AG: Regardless of what I did, he is already here.

AG: I know this consequence will 8e hard for you to accept, 8ut whenever you feel angry or confused a8out it, just repeat this to yourself.

AG: It should 8ecome your mantra!

AG: He is already here.

like. im sure she's trying to pass on the rules to john that she's lived by lol, I genuinely dont think she's able to comprehend a life outside of predetermination

[xtinyaurora]

Heyyyyy I’m new here :3 could I request ATEEZ reaction to you being a brat? :3

Ateez reaction: Bratty Y/N

__________________________________________

➼ requested?: yes

➼ genre: smut

➼ pairing: Ateez x neutral!reader

➼ Word-count: 2k+

➼ Warnings: nsfw content, strong language, cursing, threads, annoyance, bratty behavior, pet names...

➼ Note: This is not based on their real behavior or meant to represent real life. This is simply a fan fiction and is only for the purposes of fun, it’s a hobby. Read at your own risk!

➼ A/N note: Sorry for updating after a longer time, I had a few mental health issues... Thanks to everyone who waited tho and thank you so much for 200+ followers... Please let me know if you have ideas in mind for a ‘special'! Hope you all like this one tho. Feel free to leave some feedback! Also, let me know if any of you wants to be added to my taglist!

➼ Taglist: @teeztheflag @darkstarlights

__________________________________________

Park Seonghwa

You were sulking because Seonghwa didn’t bought you that dress you saw in one of those expensive shops today. Actually, you could call him your „sugar daddy”. He bought you anything you wanted whenever you wanted, but not today. Today was different, because you already started to provoke him in the early morning, disobeying and yelling at him. He didn’t know what happened to you, even after asking a hundredth of times, you just kept on being bratty towards the male. Soon, he had enough. While the two of you were sitting in the car, at the parking lot of the shopping mall, you kept on complaining about that dress. Seonghwa leaned into your side and grabbed your throat, immediately shutting you up. „You better stop talking, before I lose my shit and hit you right in the face and fuck you right on top of this car, baby. Would you like that? For all people to see how I put you in your place. Huh?” You silently shook your head, a hint of fear written on your face. „I thought so. Now stop being a bratty little bitch and start behaving, understood?” Again, you remained silent, nodding your head this time. Seonghwa then sat back and started the power of the car, driving off, back home.

Kim Hongjoong

Hongjoong finally took a day off, immediately calling you to go on a date but you were mad at him. Why? He knew that you had other plans today but still choose this day to take a break. „Y/N, baby, come on. You know I have no say in this. This is not my fault, so please come to the restaurant we always go to, okay?” You let out a ironic laugh. „Tz. First, you pick the worst day and now you want me to come there myself? Oh no, if you really want to get out with me then you are going to pick me the fuck up.” Hongjoong was kinda shocked, not excepting this kind of behavior. After massaging his temples, since this boy was stressed and annoyed by your way of behaving, he just hung up the call, not in the mood to keep up with you right now. You went absolutely insane. Like, how dare he? When midnight came around, Hongjoong entered the front door, food in his hands. You were sitting in the living room, still pissed about earlier today. A knock on the doorframe made you look up. When spotting your boyfriend, you rolled your eyes and kept watching tv. „Haven’t cool down yet?” You got back to 180. „Excuse me?! Get your ass out of this room Mr. 'I think I can allow myself whatever I want' because yes, I am still mad at you.” He stared at you, not believing what was happing. Since when did you get so bratty? Shaking his head while approaching you and placing the food on the table, he grabbed both of your forearms and looked you deep in the eyes. „Okay now listen here you bratty bitch. You’re gonna listen to me and start behaving or I will punish you so hard that you wish you could turn the time back and thank me for making time for you, okay? I want my good little kitten back because I don’t like nasty strays that don’t obey me. No one would like one, so be happy and appreciate me you ungrateful pice of shit and shut the fuck up.”

Jeong Yunho

He was just staring at you blankly, while you were throwing a tantrum. This already happened a couple of times but it was never this bad. He kept on watching you, until you eventually calmed down yourself. It really provoked you that he didn’t stop you or has done anything for that matter. At some point, you gave up because you knew how well Yunho could control his anger. Honestly, you didn’t even know why you freaked out like that. Both of you were searching for a movie to watch and when Yunho picked one that you already saw and absolutely hated, both of you started auguring. It’s his turn to pick the movie because you picked last time, yet that didn’t sit with you. Maybe you were just having a bad day? At least that’s what Yunho told himself. „Are you done now?” You sat there, at the ground while Yunho sat in front of you, on the couch. „Yea... sorry.” Yunho nodded, pulling you up on his lap. You thought he will cuddle with you but sike, he flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach, over his knees, ass in perfect view for him. „How many hits do you think you deserve? Hm? Maybe 20 or 30? Or... 40 or 50?”

Kang Yeosang

He had this furious and annoyed look on his face. You got kinda terrified now, knowing what a beast this boy could be when he was mad. He watched you until you went silent, sitting next to each other and waiting for what’s going to happen next. You started to get nervous because Yeosang kept looking at you without saying or doing anything. His silence never meant anything good... „Stop looking.” He raised one of his eyebrows. „Stop talking.” You did keep quiet, not knowing what else to do now. „Dumb pet, do you think you’re worth my time? Oh how embarrassing... It’s such a shame that there are so many people who want me yet I chose you over everyone else, an ungrateful little bitch.” His words kinda hurt and you stated to doubt your worth. Maybe he’s right? You maybe should have followed the rules. You shouldn’t have told him no and most important, you shouldn’t have done all of that in front of his friends. You kinda started to regret it but it was way too late now. Even if you did apologize now, Yeosang wouldn’t forgive you, he will punish you no matter what. The more silence there is, the harder the punishment will be. „Go into the bedroom. Take your clothes off and wait for me.”

Choi San

To be direct, you were unnecessarily overreacting. When you visited the boys and watch them while they practiced, San didn’t greet you as usual and you didn’t like that. At all. He was too focused to even notice you tbh. When he finally turned around and spotted you, he rolled his eyes, taking in your grumpy state. He made his way towards you, so he could give you a kiss but you pushed him away. He gave you a questioning look but you just turned your face away. „Hey, give me a kiss.” You still didn’t move, hoping to upset somehow. „Y/N.” His first warning. „Look at me.” Still, you didn’t move. The other members started to notice but kept on practicing because they didn’t wanted to get involved in anything. San exhaled loudly, pulling you up and dragging you out with him. „Don’t touch me!” You yelled at your boyfriend. He didn’t even bother to listen to you. „It hurts!” You hoped that he would loosen his grip a bit, but instead his grip on you got stronger. When he reached his room, he threw you on the bed and undressed himself. „You hurt me!” Still having that attitude on, you again yelled at him. He gave you a murderous look, finally shutting you up. He the hovered over you, staring you dead in the eyes. „If you ever dare to pull something like that in front of the other members again, I will make you regret visiting us, okay? Now better behave, before I completely lose the last bit of my self control, you stupid kid.”

Song Mingi

„Mingi, Mingi! Wake up!” You shook him until he groaned out in annoyance. „Y/N? What’s wrong?” You huffed. „I am bored. You have to do something with me, come on.” You tried to pull him up but he was stronger than you, resulting that you were the one being pulled and laying on top of him now. „Did you loose your mind? It’s three in the morning, let me sleep!” He half yelled, half whispered. As he was about to drift off to sleep again, you pulled on his hair, making him tear his eyes open and cry out loudly. „Ouch! What the heck, Y/N? That hurts!” A smile creeped on your face, finally achieving your goal of waking him up. He just stared at you, giving you a ‘are you serious?’ type of look. „Now that you’re awake, we can do something! Should we watch a movie or should we play some ga-“ „No! We are not going to do any of these! It’s bed time, so lay down! I am not in the mood for all of this.” You smacked his thigh. „No Mingi, get up! What do you not get from 'I am bored, let’s do something’, huh?” He really has enough. „Okay Bunny, you wanna do something? Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘try not to scream while getting your ass beaten and brain fucked out’. Sounds fun, right?” You gulped, then getting pulled and flipped around, so that your backside faced up. At least he’s full of energy now...

Jung Wooyoung

Both of you were sitting in a restaurant. He was already fed up with your behavior but he let go because he didn’t had enough strength to deal with you right now. This cutie was so hungry and tiered after practice, that he didn’t wanted things to go wrong but you really left him no choice. Just because you didn’t wanted to eat in this restaurant and wanted to go to your favorite one instead, you stated to act up, gaining lots of attention from all the nagging and yelling. Wooyoung grabbed your upper arm and pulled you near him, whispering in your ear so others wouldn’t hear. „Shut your mouth now Y/N, I’ve had enough of your bullshit. You’re so fucking embarrassing you stupid brat.” He then let go, harshly shoving your arm away and leaning back. When the waiter approached you two, to note your order, you remained silent. After rolling his eyes, Wooyoung ordered food only for himself. When he finished eating, he stood up and threw some money in the table. He was about to walk away when he turned around to face you. „If you don’t get up within the next two seconds, I will break your legs.” He gave you a last condescending look before walking out. You obeyed and followed him out, joining him in his car. He didn’t even spare you a glance, driving straight to your apartment a grin forming on his face, several ideas for your punishment popping into his head.

Choi Jongho

Hit after hit, you put in more effort to annoy him. You soon realized that this wasn’t enough, so you started pinching and biting him. „Ouch, Y/N, are you crazy?!” Ah, finally! You smirked at him and wiggled your eyebrows, satisfied that he finally showed a reaction. „Do you think that’s funny?” You smiled. „Very. And now that I finally have your attention, you can do something with me. Oh and, get me some water please I am thirsty.” He stared at you in disbelief. „Are you okay, Y/N?” You gave him a look of disapproval. „Uhm, yea? I still am but if you don’t get me my water I won’t be and than I am going to hit you, again.” He was kinda amused now. „Oh? Where does all that attitude come from, all of a sudden?” You shrugged with your shoulders. „I don’t know and I don’t care. You gotta deal with it now.” You laid down on the couch both of you were sitting on and placed your legs on his lap. „I am still waiting for my water Jong.” He didn’t move. You wanted to raise your head up to scold him but he was faster than you, now hovering over you. „I will give you something else to drink. Get down and kneel. We have to clean that bratty mouth of yours, yea? Come on brat, suck me off. You don’t want me to get mad now, do you?”

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Of Tapping and Starry Nights

a/n: I am too in love with silly boys throwing pebbles at windows to get their s/o’s attention. Gimme all the tropes, I love them. Also, it’s midnight and I haven’t legitimately read through this, so mind that, yoinks. Thanks as always to mother for encouraging me to write <3 @samwrights

notes: addition to Of Tapping and Fairytales (kuroo x gn!reader). If anyone would like to request someone else doing the tapping and what their lil midnight adventure would look like, I’m all ears :) find my masterlist here

pairing: oikawa tooru x gn!reader | genre: fluff | warnings: none :) | word count: 1,291

The glaring blue screen of your laptop was burning your eyes and you swore that you’d be seeing the imprint of your stupid essay for the next week. You had been at it for hours and still only managed to have barely more than a page worked out. The longer you stared helplessly, the more the constant blink of the black bar was starting to annoy the shit outta you. You know it was probably because it was midnight and you had been doing nothing else all day, but you could almost hear the stupid thing mocking you.

You rubbed at your eyes, groaning at the lack of inspiration gracing you like some kind of biblical revelation. And that’s when you heard it.

You were so zeroed in on the sound of your furious typing that you didn’t notice the tapping against your window. What in the hell was that? It wasn’t raining, there were no trees near your window, and certainly no birds were going ham on the glass this late at night.

Despite it being midnight and you very possibly could just be hearing things and needed to go to bed, your curiosity got the better of you. Intent on double checking that you weren’t indeed going crazy, you threw open your window and promptly heard a startled yelp followed by a solid thud. Confused, you looked down to see your dumbass of a boyfriend Oikawa Tooru lying flat on his ass. His glasses were crooked and his galaxy pajama shorts and matching sweatshirt looked rumpled, as if he dressed hurriedly.

“Tooru?” you called, still confused, but mostly amused by the sight of your boyfriend.

Fixing his glasses he answered with his usual chipper “Hi, Y/n-chan!” as he stood, rubbing at his butt.

“Mind telling me why you’re standing outside my window in the middle of the night?”

He smiled shyly and your heart swooned. It wasn’t often that the Oikawa Tooru did anything shyly. You loved him, but the boy had a tendency to be a little too full of himself. “It’s a really clear night tonight.” You leaned a little out your window, glancing up to see the stars were shining brilliantly, even amidst the suburbian light pollution.

Underneath his shyness, you could see burning excitement, so white-hot that you were surprised he wasn’t bouncing on his feet. “And?” you pried, wondering what in the hell could have Tooru so worked up in the middle of the night.

“And there’s this really cool comet--” ah, that’s what “--that’s supposed to be visible in about,” he glanced at the watch on his wrist, the worn leather one that you had gifted him, “an hour and I forgot to tell you about it earlier today because Iwa-chan threatened to hit me if I was late to practice again and I try to avoid being hit as much as possible though it ends up happening anyways because Iwa-chan is such a brute!”

“Well, you are the captain, Tooru. I don’t blame Iwa-san for wanting you to be a responsible one.”

Tooru pouted, whining, “Y/n-chaaannn, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of you being a responsible captain, Tooru-chan. Besides, you could have texted me about the comet, yeah?”

“You see, about that…” he said sheepishly.

“It’s dead, isn’t it? Your phone?”

He nodded. “I forgot to charge it.”

“You were watching footage of your last game, weren’t you?”

“No!” he puffed his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was the game from last month.” You giggled at his childish demeanor and his smile came back easily at the lovely sound. It was one of his favorites. Your laugh, and the sound of volleyballs hitting a court. “So?” he continued.

“So, what?”

The shyness came back just as suddenly as before. “So, do you wanna watch the comet with me?” He gestured to a blanket at his feet and looked so hopelessly shy that you had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling at the rare sight. You glanced down at yourself, only in shorts and a thin shirt that wouldn’t stand against a cool summer night’s breeze.

“Give me a sec,” you told him. His answering grin was blinding, elated that you had agreed to spontaneous midnight star gazing.

You softly shut the window, changing into sweatpants and a sweatshirt that appeared to be Tooru’s if the green alien on the sleeve was anything to go by. Grabbing your phone and your house keys in one hand, you quietly made your way downstairs, slipped into sneakers, and snuck out the door without so much as a creak (thanks to the death grip you had on the railing to make sure that you didn’t biff it down the stairs).

Tooru was waiting for you, the natural light of the moon and the artificial light of the streetlamps mixing to create an ethereal glow behind him. He looked like an angel standing there in galaxy pajamas, his impossibly soft hair messy and glowing, his smile crooked and charming. You took a moment to appreciate that this absolute dork chose to tap on your window, chose to be with you. He reached out and took your hand in his, gently pulling you along with him. You two walked silently side by side, listening to the soft sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. After a while of simply just being with each other, Tooru tugged on your hand, leading you to a spot he had picked out in the park near your home. It was on a hill and overlooked the small lake, little ripples from falling leaves occasionally rocking the water.

He let go of your hand for the first time and spread out the large blanket -- in it was hidden another, smaller blanket for you two to wrap yourselves in. He laid down, patting the space next to him for you to join. You did, nestling yourself against his body, resting your head on his shoulder, curling your hand on his chest, tangling your legs with his longer ones. Tooru threw the second blanket over the both of you, ensuring that between both the blankets and his own body heat that you would be warm and comfortable.

You both stared at the stars, marvelling in the beauty of the universe, the beauty that is both creation and destruction, peace and chaos, light and dark.

All of the stress from earlier melted away. In that moment you felt nothing but beauty and love.

“Tooru,” you whispered, too scared to say it louder in fear of interrupting the magic that the stars brought.

“Yes?” He turned to look at you but you kept your eyes on the stars.

You smiled simply. “Thank you.” And you didn’t have to say anymore for him to understand. True, you were thanking him for bringing you there, but you both understood that this thank you ran much deeper than that.

“I love you, too,” he breathed. You looked at him and saw him returning your smile, his eyes alive with all of the secrets of the universe and the stars in the sky.

When a brilliant flash of light marked the comet and drew your gazes to the starry night, you couldn’t ever hope to describe in words how impossibly happy you were to be there in that simple moment with a charming boy who cherished you above any star in the sky.

“Y/n,” Tooru whispered, calling your attention back to him. He leaned in and you closed your eyes and let him kiss you and in that kiss you felt all of the love the universe had to offer.

And he was giving it all to you.

[mlm-writer]

Another One Bites the... Endrega?

Gif source

Pairing: Platonic Geralt of Rivia (Game ver.) x Peter Parker (T.H. ver) Rating: Mature for violence Words: 2590 POV: Third Summary: After losing his parents, Peter makes the journey to Novigrad to live with aunt May and uncle Ben. However, the road is not without dangers. Fortunately, Peter has lady luck on his side. Note: Last of the crossover works! Also that spider got to bite Peter so often. I pulled on uno reverse card on that shit.  Tags: action, fantasy, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, fight scenes, monsters and mild Witcher 3 spoilers of what happens in Novigrad

Branches cracked beneath his feet, as he ran as fast as he could through the forest. The moon illuminated the night, showing him the way through the bed of leaves that covered his vision of the night sky. Peter was unsure if he should scream for help or if that would attract even more of these spider-like creatures that chased him. Lady luck was on his side as he saw light flickering in the distance. A smile spread over his face as he put the last of his energy into getting help. 

Peter screamed for help, when he approached the light. A figure with white hair that reflected the moonlight stood up from near the campfire. Yellow eyes made themselves clear in the dark and Peter knew he was saved. He ran past the man, stopping when he was behind him. The witcher grabbed his silver sword and Peter watched him slay the beasts, though not without struggle. Peter had not looked behind since he last caught a glimpse of one of those things, so only now he realised there were at least a dozen of them and the witcher struggled taking that many all at once. 

The blade swung with finesse through the air, the peeking moonlight reflecting off it, until it got stained with monster blood. One of the spider-like creatures bit the witcher in the leg. He tried to shake it off as his blade slashed through the other monsters. Even Peter could tell that the witcher had to free his leg soon or it was a lost fight. The young boy looked around, trying to find a weapon, but unless he somehow could get a hold of the second sword on the wither’s back, there was none. He had to think quickly. Act quickly. 

Peter lashed out and jumped the monster that had its teeth into the witcher and… gave it a taste of it’s own medicine. It let go as Peter’s teeth struck through a particularly soft patch on their body. It bucked and threw the boy off. Peter coughed, spitting out the blood that had gathered in his mouth. Head started getting fuzzy immediately. He hoped the witcher was alive. It sounded like it, but everything sounded muted, as if there was a wall between him and reality. 

He heaved, the air in his lungs prickling. Vomit covered the ground below him and he coughed, clutching his chest in pain. Strong hands lifted him up and placed him against a tree. “Do not swallow. Just rinse your mouth,” a low muted voice cut its way through his panic. Peter followed the instructions, taking the water offered to him. It did not help. Then suddenly, clarity as if there was a spell casted on him. It still hurt and he still felt like he was dying, but the panic was gone, he could think clearly of what to do next. 

“Listen, I could try to give you something, but it might kill you.” Peter understood. He nodded and reached out for whatever could either save or kill him. The alternative was just dying anyway. It was not hard to tell with the excruciating pain. He took the bottle, hardly looking at the red fluid, before downing it as fast as he could. More coughing. More pain. Then nothing.

---

Geralt sighed as he watched over the young man. Were it not for the boy’s foolish actions, he would have died today. The boy was sweating, his brown hair sticking to his forehead, but his face looked pale enough for him to be dead. The witcher threw another stick into the fire, trying to keep the boy that saved his life warm. At least he was not dying of hypothermia. 

The fact that the stranger was not screaming from pain was a good sign, but that did not mean he would make it through the night. Night turned to day and Geralt awoke to the sound of a coughing fit. He helped the boy sit up and handed him some water. Once the boy was no longer coughing, their eyes locked. “Thank you, master witcher,” the boy spoke hoarsely. 

“You are lucky to be alive. Biting an Endrega was really stupid.” The boy nodded and sat up, arms shaking. “You are also lucky to survive ingesting a witcher potion. I think you might even pull through this, kid.” He nodded again, understanding his situation. A small smile spread over his lips when he got the news he was probably going to survive. “What’s your name?” 

The boy looked at him with a hazy gaze. He seemed to think very hard, before he could answer. “Peter,” he ended up saying, “sorry, my head is all fuzzy.” Geralt placed a hand on Peter’s head. It felt really hot. 

“You’re running a fever. Your body is still burning through all the toxins. Where are your parents?” The boy looked down. Right. The war. Another orphan then. 

“They died. I’m heading to my aunt in uh…” He paused, thinking again. “Novigrad.” Geralt huffed. This boy was probably lady luck’s own bloody son. 

“That’s where I’m headed. I’ll drop you off at a healer there.” The boy thanked him over and over until he got caught in a coughing fit again. “Don’t mention it. I drop you off and we do not owe each other anything.” Peter nodded, finally shutting up. 

The journey to Novigrad was a long one. Peter was weak, only getting a little better each day. He had to rest a lot, but he was good company. Geralt could see he was the type to chat his ears off, but speaking brought Peter into a coughing fit, so words were rare. Geralt learned Peter’s parents died in the Battle of White Orchard. Peter was also good with horses or at least with Roach. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the farmer’s boy, but there was something special about him too. 

Peter tried to offer his mother’s ring as payment for the escort, but Geralt did not accept. By the time they closed in on the gates of Novigrad, Peter seemed to be doing well enough to get home on his own. He insisted he finished the journey on his own two legs and Geralt had business to tend to, so their ways parted at the gates. After finding Dandelion, he thought he was done in Novigrad. After all, Ciri was not there, but Geralt’s path was bound to converge with Peter’s once more. 

Geralt needed coin for the journey to Skellige. There was a contract on a ‘giant, humanoid, red spider’. It apparently attacked some people. It was a menace to track down. Tracks ended on walls that even Geralt could not climb. There was no distinctive scent either. He followed the trail of thick, abnormally strong spiderwebs to a house near Oxenfurt Gate in the Bits. Downstairs was a workshop that looked untouched for a couple of weeks. Spiderwebs spooked in the corners, but none matched what he found on the buildings in other parts of the Bits. 

“Anybody home?” He called out. Feet rushed over the first floor and headed to the stairs. Geralt watched as someone came down the stairs, skinny but muscular legs, followed by a lean body and then… a very familiar face. 

“Geralt!” Peter exclaimed joyfully. In a flash Geralt found himself being hugged tightly by the boy. He froze, unsure what to do. “It is great to see you! Look!” Peter stepped back and did a little dance. “I’m all good and healthy!” The boy paused, then frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?” 

The witcher looked around, eyes scanning over the workshop that looked abandoned. “What happened to this workshop?” Peter’s smile disappeared. He cleared his throat and looked down. 

“Uncle Ben died. It was his. I uh… meant to pick up his work, but… it’s just hard to touch his stuff.” Geralt answered with a grunt and a nod. He stepped around, careful to not touch anything. “You need anything? I can make stuff as well. Combs, mirrors, machinery components, you name it. I’ll make anything for you at half the price…”

“I’m looking for the red spider man that has been attacking people ‘round here.” Geralt was right. Peter really could talk a lot. Dandelion would love him. Peter grew awfully quiet. Geralt could hear his heart pounding rapidly. When he looked at the boy, there was no eye-contact. “Peter, if you know anything, you need to tell me. This thing could attack you too.” 

Peter finally looked up, shaking his head. “No! It is not like that! I mean…” He moved around restlessly. “Spiderman saved me! He does that a lot! He attacks bandits and other bad people. He would not harm me.” Lies. Geralt could tell, but he wondered why Peter would lie about it. 

“This spider man attacked some commoners.” “Maybe those commoners were attacking someone else.”

Geralt raised a brow. That was a really quick answer. “Peter, I am not asking again. What do you know?” Peter seemed to get smaller under his threatening gaze. He mumbled something that even Geralt could not hear. “Speak up.” Peter took a deep breath, before speaking in a small voice. 

“I’ll lead you to Spiderman. Meet me at midnight behind the city walls, between Oxenfurt and South Gate.” “Just tell me where he is. No need to bring you into danger as well.’ “Like I said, master witcher, sir, Spiderman will not harm me or any other innocent person.” “You don’t know that.” “But I do and you will too, tonight.” 

The boy fidgeted in place. He offered the witcher a cup of tea. Geralt refused and left. He had some other matters to attend to, before leaving for Skellige. It was raining that night. The moon was hardly visible, only a thin crescent hung in the sky, leaving that night’s illumination to the flickering fires from the city. Geralt’s witcher senses were triggered when he heard something behind him. Down from the wall came a figure clad in red with a mask that reminded him of one that Dandelion wore during his scheme with Sophronia. Geralt reached for his silver sword, but stopped when the figure stood before him. Even at a distance, Geralt could recognise the faint scent of that neglected workshop. His first thought was that Peter got eliminated, before he could meet Geralt, but as the spider man stood before him, he noticed a similar build, a similar height, a similar way of cowering before the witcher. “Peter?”

The figure reached for his mask and indeed, as the leather came off, there was the scared, but unnecessarily brave boy from the forest. “Hello, Geralt, sir,” the boy almost whispered. Geralt lowered his arm, sighing. “How did you climb that wall?” 

Peter smiled a little and walked back to the wall. “You see, some things changed after I bit that spider thing…” “Endrega.” “That! I think it interacted with that potion you gave me.” “Gotta note that down…”

“And now I can do this!”

Peter jumped and scaled the wall while sticking to it like… a spider. Geralt stared at him, unsure of how to react. He nearly got a heart attack when Peter jumped off the wall when he was near the top. He rushed to catch the fool, but from the boy’s wrist came something that stuck to the wall and Peter hung from it, upside down, right in front of Geralt’s face. “I can also shoot webs like a spider,” the boy proudly announced. Geralt sighed, rubbing his temple. 

“Peter, did you attack people?” The boy came down and nodded shamefully. 

“Yes, but I only attacked bandits and some whoresons that were harassing elves! Please, Geralt, you must believe me… sir.” Geralt could tell he was honest. It was not about believing him or not. 

“You need to stop. You might get hurt. The witch hunters might even want to put you on the pyre.” “Let them try.” 

Geralt raised a brow. Peter stood before him, clad in red like a junior Dandelion and arms crossed like a child. He was a child, a ridiculously stupid child. “What you’re doing is dangerous and you need to stop. You don’t know what these… powers are. You’re healthy now, but you might not be for long.”

“And what about you?” Geralt raised a brow at the boy again as he walked closer. “You go around helping people with your special powers, why can’t I?” “I am trained to do this.” “Then train me.”

Geralt let out a sigh of resignation. He wanted to send Peter to Kaer Morhen, but he didn’t trust him to get there alive or even find the way. “No.” Geralt tried to walk away, but quicker than he ever saw any normal human move, Peter was in front of him, blocking the way. 

“What if I can take you on in a fight. Not win, of course, but I bet I can stand against you for a minute.” “You have gone from foolish to just arrogant.” “Give me a chance! I can do more than climb walls and swing from a web… please?” 

“Fine, if you survive a minute, I’ll train you, but, if I floor you within that minute, you get rid of the stupid costume and never attack anyone again, bandit or otherwise.” “Deal.” 

---

Peter was afraid he might have overestimated his abilities, but all he had to do was not be floored. Fortunately they agreed to no weapons. “Time goes in now,” Geralt announced and Peter expected him to pounce right away, but it seemed the witcher was waiting as well. Peter stayed alert, his new, sharp senses noticing how slow Geralt’s heartbeat was in contrast to his own, pounding his chest like it was trying to get out. 

Then finally, Geralt lunged forwards and Peter barely dodged him. He rolled over the floor and got back up with great finesse. Yellow eyes narrowed and scanned his body like it was determining the price of a horse. Peter swallowed a lump in his throat, before dodging again. For now, that was all he was doing. He knew better than to try something funny or to hope for Geralt to get exhausted. With one close call, Peter found himself behind Geralt. He took the chance to give a quick, albeit not hard, kick against the witcher’s back, before dashing backwards. They had drawn a circle on the ground, he barely stayed in it. 

It ended up being the only strike Peter would give. Geralt was simply not as fast as Peter and while Peter had taken a pretty good blow to the head, he was still standing after a minute. When the time was up, a sigh left the white-haired male. “Fine, but you will have to come with me to Skellige. I still need to find Ciri.” 

Peter let out the air he held in his lungs and collapsed on the ground, tired from dodging like his life had depended on it. “Your daughter, right? I’ll… have to leave aunt May for a while, but I’ll be back, right?” Geralt gave him a look that said ‘yeah, sure, maybe’ and Peter found it rather ominous, but he also trusted the man enough to keep him alive. “I’ve never been to Skellige. What is it like?”

Geralt did not spare him a look as he put his equipment back on. “Cold. We leave tomorrow at noon.”

[meltingheartsandcores]

This is a wangxian Yoi au, or it was going to be, I wrote the first chapter. Then realized I don’t know how to write skating, I don’t know anything about figure skating, and I feel like I should not be flying blind in this. Also, creativity got fried. Which sucks.

But, I figured you might enjoy reading the first chapter, and idk if it's because i wrote it but I find it's fine to read on it's own.

Story under the cut, I do hope you enjoy. 

“Huaisang, why are you calling me at midnight?”

“Excuse you, it’s one am. And you didn’t respond to my text. Check your messages and watch the link I sent you.”

“Fuck no.” Despite Wei Wuxian’s words, he grabs his computer off his bedside table and sits up, “What’s the video called?” Wei Wuxian asks as he pulls up youtube.

”Uhhh,” there was some tapping, ”okay, english is Lan Wangji attempts Wei Wuxian’s Confusion.”

The name made Wei Wuxian perk up as he quickly types and searchs for the video. “Why didn’t you just tell me it was Lan Zhan?” He wouldn’t have grumbled.

”Just watch!” Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes at Nie Huaisang’s excitement but plays the video, muted because Jiang Cheng will kill him for waking him up at midnight. Wei Wei Wuxian was pleasantly surprised throughout the whole video, and also curious as to when Lan Zhan learnt it so completely. It had been his freestyle at Worlds two nights before, the one that earned him gold, again. He had changed it to work with his current condition and still earn him gold, but that just meant it was more complicated stepping he had perfected and a bunch of quads- not nearly as much as he normally did but, enough. Lan Zhan had changed his quads to triples.

Wei Wuxian could only point out one mistake. He rewatches it to see if there are any others. They’re aren’t.

“He fucked up one of the salchows.” Wei Wuxian states, watching the video for a third time. That was generous, he wobbled a bit too much on the landing. Madam Yu would’ve called it a complete fuckup and made him redo the entire program. For a practice it wasn’t bad, especially since Lan Zhan seemed distracted still.

Nie Huaisang groans on the phone, ”That’s all you have to say?”

“Hey. He’s the one who didn’t call me.”

”And now he’s dancing your stupid love letter!”

“It was not-“ Wei Wuxian is stopped by a pillow hitting his face, falling back onto his bed. “I have to go, I woke Jiang Cheng.”

Nie Huaisang giggles and hangs up with a singsong, “Good Luck!”

Wei Wuxian sits back up, chucking the pillow back onto Jiang Cheng’s bed. The lump that is his brother doesn’t move. Just an angry grumbled, “Get the fuck out of the room if you’re going to be awake.”

Wei Wuxian could go back to sleep, but he’s more interested in Lan Zhan right now. So he shuts his laptop, pulls on a jacket, and leaves the room with his phone in his pocket and his laptop under his arm in his fluffy bunny slippers. He goes down to the airport and sits at his gate, opening hs laptop back up to watch the video again. They were flying out to Italy in five hours. Well. wei Wuxian and Uncle Jiang were, Jiejie and Jiang Cheng were flying back to Canada in ten. Jiang Cheng had made their room decisions because if Wei Wuxian and Uncle Jiang shared they would’ve left without saying goodbye. In Wei Wuxian’s opinion, it’d be better to say goodbye before they went to sleep instead of waking everyone up at six in the morning, but he was promptly told to shut up.

Wei Wuxian calls Nie Huaisang back as the video plays, it’s impressive. And Wei Wuxian has always loved Lan Zhan’s skating. It made the Grand Prix all the more odd.

”It’s a love letter.” Nie Huaisang says in lieu of a greeting.

“It was not a love letter.” Nie Huaisang made a doubtful sound. “It was a letter of why the fuck did you never call me? I gave you my personal number and whitelisted you. Why did you never contact me?”

“So… an unrequited loveletter.”

“Why am I friends with you?”

”Because I helped you shave off Lan Qiren’s awful goatee.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles at the memory, Teacher Lan had been so pissed. “Hey… do you think he has any relation to Lan Zhan?”

”I do blackmail, not familial relations. If I did, you wouldn’t have spent five years calling Xiao Xingchen Jiujiu as a joke only to find out it was very appropriate.”

Ah, yes, the most awkward celebratory dinner in Wei Wuxian’s life with his uncle and grandmother.

“You and I both know I called him Jiujiu because I forgot his name and it was the first thing that came to mind.” Nie Huaisang cackles, fully aware that when Wei Wuxian forgot peoples names, if he didn’t hate them, he immediately went to familial relations.

It’s how Nie Huaisang’s older brother is forever Da-ge to Wei Wuxian. And how half his competitors are variations of cousin and uncle. Those that don’t speak chinese are typically confused but assume it’s a nickname until someone (Jiang Cheng typically) tells them they are now the son of Wei Wuxian’s father’s brother. Or something of the like. Those that speak chinese typically return the favour. For example, Xingchen called him Wai Sheng as often as Wei Wuxian would call him Jiujiu.

”Yup. And then you finally met your grandmother. Hands down, best World Champions I’ve ever been to.”

“Oh fuck you. Are you going to Italy?”

”Already here. I convinced Da Ge to fly me out right after the World Champs. I have been shopping for days. I love Italy.”

“You love that you can logic your way into drinking wine with every meal.”

”Mmhmm. You don’t normally participate in the Egna Spring Trophy. Why are you coming this year?”

“I like to shock people.” ’I don’t want my season to be over just yet. I don’t want to stop skating.’ “Can you keep a secret?”

”Of course. Did you put shaving cream in Jiang Cheng’s suitcase again?”

“No. He doesn’t let me anywhere near it anymore. I…”Wei Wuxian chickens out. He can’t say it. Not now. “Actually it might be better to say in person. Do you think the video’s a message?”

”What? Oh! Lan Wangji’s? Maybe? What message might he be sending?”

“That he still wants me to coach him next season?”

”You can’t coach someone and participate.” Nie Huaisang remarks. Wei Wuxian stays silent, normally his response would be ‘watch me’, but he can’t. Nie Huaisang gasps at Wei Wuxian’s extended silence. ”You can’t”.

“I’ll talk to you about it in Italy.”

”Have you told Coach Jiang?”

“No. Not Jiang Cheng or Shijie either. Don’t say anything. I’m still…”

”Yup. Got it. Lips are sealed.” Wei Wuxian sighs in relief, he’s not sure what he was worried about, but he’s grateful Nie Huaisang isn’t telling anyone. Not until Wei Wuxian says it himself. ”And, I guess the video could be a message. Maybe he lost your number? And it’s not like you told him you whitelisted him. Maybe he thought you were joking and didn’t want to risk rejection? I’ve asked Da ge but he told me to shut up and not bother him so…”

Oh right. Wei Wuxian forgot Da Ge was friends with Lan Zhan’s brother. “Meanie. But you know where he is right?”

“Yup. But Da Ge told me not to tell you. Didn’t want you bothering the Lan brothers or something.”

Wei Wuxian hums, “What a shame.” Nie Huaisang couldn’t tell him where Lan Zhan was. But, he could tell Wei Wuxian about Lan Zhan’s home.

”Mmhmm. There’s a wonderful hot spring in Gusu. As well as a cold spring that’s supposed to promote healing. I always find that afterwards, I’m too busy warming up to really care about any injuries.”

Wei Wuxian chuckles, Gusu huh? “Never heard of it.”

“No? It’s a rather small city. Not very well known. The hot spring I go to is called Hanshi.”

“...Frost Room?” Odd name for a hot spring.

”Mmhmm. I think it’s ironic or something? You know, a hot spring frost room? Who knows? We both know I didn’t ask.”

Wei Wuxian nods, “Mm. Maybe after Triglav I’ll pop over.”

”Making this season count I see.”

“I just want as many gold medals as possible. I’ll let you get some sleep. I am going to get started on coaching notes.”

”I’ll send you whatever videos I have of Lan Wangji. See you soon.”

“Mm.” Wei Wuxian hangs up and pulls up his note-app to start taking notes as he watches Lan Zhan’s video again. Noting places where Lan Zhan could do with improvement. There weren’t many, but Lan Zhan hadn’t focused his training in the same areas Wei Wuxian did. In some areas he was actually better at Wei Wuxian’s program than he was. Particularly with the stepping. More precise and fine-tuned than Wei Wuxian’s own. If Wei Wuxian had given Confusion to Lan Zhan he probably would’ve netted a higher score than Wei Wuxian. If he could land the quads at least.

_-3 weeks later-_

“Gusu is so nice. So warm. So not Canada.” Wuxan says to Nie Huaisang over the phone as he waits for the cab he arranged to pick him up from the airport.

Nie Huaisang’s laugh titters over the phone, “You’re not in Gusu yet. Gusu is a mountain city.”

“Ah, so the temperature will be back to normal. Good.”

”Tell Xichen-ge hi. I did not warn them you were coming, so, have a fun surprise!”

Wei Wuxian laughs, “I will. How’s Da ge?”

”Very annoyed that I told you where they live. And not accepting the fact that I didn’t tell you where they lived. I told you of a wonderful hot spring in Gusu and upon research you found it was owned by Lan Wangji’s brother. How can I be blamed?” Nie Huaisang actually seemed offended.

Wei Wuxian laughs at his friend. “Well, at least he’s not making you do hockey.” Nie Huaisang screeches, making Wei Wuxian laugh harder.

”He would never.”

“Didn’t he initially put you in hockey? Who’s to say he won’t put you back in?” It’s a joke, but Nie Huaisang is silent on the other end. And then Wei Wuxian can hear him running through his house.

”DAGE!” Wei Wuxian pulls his phone away at the yell, but puts it back once the yell is over to hear whatever else Nie Huaisang says. There’s some muttering that Wei Wuxian assumes belongs to Da ge.”You wouldn’t put me in hockey, right? Even if I fail Ice Dance?” There’s complete silence on the other end. But Da ge must’ve said something, or made a certain expression because Nie Huaisang screeches, offended and scared, “Da Ge!” Wei Wuxian laughs at his friends' misery and offence. He always feels a little bad for Da ge at events since he’s typically the only hockey player there and very few figure skaters bother to hide their dislike of hockey players. Typically it’s vice versa too, but when Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang go to Da ge’s games they tend to keep away from that subject. As much as possible. Except that one year one of Da ge’s teammates called Figure Skater’s prissy princesses and Wei Wuxian attacked him and had to be pulled off by Da ge.

He was fourteen. Nie Huaisang took a video.

Wei Wuxian stops laughing enough to notice his cab and met the driver, putting his phone in his pocket to drown out Nie Huaisang’s crying. After a quick chat, his luggage was put in the trunk and got in. He pulls out his phone and puts it back to his ear just as Nie Huaisang starts calling Da ge mean.

”How could you scare me like that?” Da ge was laughing in the background.

“Older brothers. It’s what we do best.”

”Meanie.” Was hissed at Wei Wuxian. More mumbling Wei Wuxian couldn’t make heads or tails of before Nie Huaisang speaks again, ” Da Ge wants to talk to you.”

“He’s not putting me in hockey is he?”

”Uhhh, da ge? Are you putting Wei-xiong in hockey?”

Da Ge was close enough to the phone Wei Wuxian could hear his reply, “Can I? He’d do damn good.”

“Don’t joke! I’m too fragile for hockey!” Wei Wuxian protests with a pout. “What did Da ge want to talk about?”

”Don’t harass Xichen and Wangji. If they tell you to go. Go. I don’t care what Wangji said at the Prix banquet, leave him alone if he wants to be left alone.” Da ge orders.

“Roger roger.”

“Wuxian.”

“I got it. I won’t bother them if they don’t want to be bothered. If he says no I’ll book a flight tomorrow and head home. Or to your place. Or to Xingchen’s. Bottom line I’ll leave if they want me to.” He won’t overstay his welcome.

”Good. Good luck.” With that, Da ge hangs up.

_-Gusu-_

“How was lessons?” Lan Xichen asks as Lan Wangji returns from the rink with Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi in tow. The five year olds loved skating. So when Lan Wangji returned from his complete failure at the Grand Prix, he had taken over their skating lessons at Cloud Recess at their insistence.

“They improved. How was business?” Lan Wangji asks as both kids run upstairs.

“Adequate. We have one guest currently. Actually, he asked for you by name.”

Oh. Great. “Did he say why?”

Lan Xichen shakes his head, he probably didn’t ask. “Just said to tell you. He also said if you don’t want to talk to him he’ll leave.”

Lan Wangji shakes his head, “No. I’ll talk to him.” He hopes it’s not a fan. Or one of Coach Zhong’s students come to ask him back in place of Coach. Lan  Wangji just wanted to take care of his rabbits and ignore the world until his failure is forgotten. Lan Xichen smiles, probably remembering that just last month Lan Wangji told him he didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Good. I’m going to make sure the tykes are not causing havoc upstairs, watch the front for me?” Lan Wangji nods at Lan Xichen’s request, allowing his brother to rush up the stairs.

Lan Wangji had just sat down at one of the tables, intent to get some work done. He was working with the library in Cloud Recess with translations, it didn’t pay well, but he enjoyed it and could do it in between helping Lan Xichen out at the Hanshi.

But before he could pull his laptop out, a guest came into the main room. Lan Wangji looks up to greet them but the words die on his tongue, eyes widening a fraction as he took in Wei Wuxian, half naked, with his hair in a towel. Well, he had a jacket on that wasn’t shut, so he wasn’t technically breaking the rule about being undressed outside the springs, but his incredibly toned chest was still on full display. Lan Wangji could feel his ears burning, and was very thankful he rarely blushes on his face.

A smile split across Wei Wuxian’s lips, “Lan Zhan.” ’What?’ “I wanted to talk to you.” Wei Wuxian falls to his knees on the opposite side of the table than Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji nods, although he was still stuck on ’Why is Wei Wuxian calling me by my given name? How does he even know it?’ Somehow Wei Wuxian’s smile got brighter. Which Lan Wangji felt was just unfair and rude. He’s trying not to panic here. “I want to coach you for next season.”

What.

Fuck trying not to panic.

What?

“Why?”

“I saw your video. Your stepping is very impressive. But you need to work on your jumps. Although you seem to learn quickly since you were able to learn Confusion in just a few days.” Lan Wangji would like this conversation to stop and rewind. What video?! He only danced Confusion once! And- oh fuck. Lan Jingyi is corrupting his perfect child. Wei Wuxian was still talking. Lan Wangji missed a portion. “-so I figured I’d come down to offer my services as coach.”

“Are you not competing next season?”

Wei Wuxian looks surprised, “Ah, I guess you don’t get much news out here.” Lan Wangji has been avoiding most skating news. He only watched the Worlds because Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui demanded it. “I’m taking a break. I’m twenty-three and have won every single competition I’ve been in for five years, got bored. And then I saw your video and decided I wanted to help you win the Grand Prix.”

What.

“What’s your current work out regime? I have some ideas but I don’t want to overwork you. Also, where’s the rink and can we schedule private time to practice?”

“Wei Wuxian-“

He cuts Lan Wangji off, waving his hand, “Call me Wei Ying.”

Okay.

“Wei Ying. You cannot take a break just to coach me.”

“Yes I can. But I didn’t. I was going to be taking a break this season anyways. If I hadn’t seen your video I might’ve let Da ge talk me into hockey.” Wei Ying shudders theatrically, “I’m too delicate for hockey.” Lan Wangji would disagree. Lan Xichen showed him the video of Wei Ying beating up a hockey player nearly twice his size. “If you don’t want me to coach you, I’ll leave. But if you do… I already have plans for your programs. And areas to improve.”

It was tempting. To accept the offer. Last year's Grand Prix had been Lan Wangji’s first venture into international competitions. He was used to national and local competitions. But after the complete failure of last years Grand Prix he wasn’t sure about returning to the international stage. However, Wei Ying had a lot of experience in the international stage. He’d been competing in International Competitions since he was thirteen. An entire decade.

Lan Wangji nods, “I accept.”

Wei Ying’s smile gets impossible bright. “Perfect.”

[some-ikemen-snob]

Pee Pee Poo Poo (Masaharu x MC) Fanfic

Proofread by: @the-voltage-diaries​ :D

Yes the MC has a name, I’m sorry to those that prefer (Y/N)

I was going to make a version w/ (Y/N) and w/o commentary but I just could not be bothered

“Please come with me to a party!” Rina’s hands are clasped tightly together in front of her. A look of nervousness covers her face. When she told me she had something serious to ask of me after work, I wasn’t expecting this. She knows how much of a risk it is for me to go outside, being a wanted fugitive and all. I don’t care about what would happen to me, I just don’t want her getting caught up in any of my problems. 

“You do know how ridiculous of a request that is right?”

“Yea… but it was worth an ask.” She sulks dejectedly, whatever the reason may be, I want to hear it. 

“Why do you need me for some party?”

“A few days ago, some new recruits were talking behind my back. They were poking fun at how I didn’t have a boyfriend at my age and claimed I was just into hook-ups.” If only they knew who she was dating, they would shut their traps. The thought amuses me but I know Rina wouldn’t like it if I threatened them to shut up. 

“I got fed up with their remarks and told them I’d bring my boyfriend to one of their parties.” Hachiko has always been the brave but stupid type. “I didn’t want to bring some random guy because I felt as if I would be betraying you..” God, the expression on her face was adorable. A fugitive like me doesn’t deserve someone as precious as her. “It’s okay, I’ll just tell them he was too late to make it.” I know what I’m about to say defies all rationality and common sense. But hey, a man’s gotta trust his gut, especially when it comes to his girl. “Alright, you win. I’ll come to the stupid party, but I’ll be in full disguise mode and lounging around in a corner.” A smile that is worth ignoring all the rationality in the world erupts on her face. “THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” Rina looks as if she just chugged a pack of Red Bull down. She gives me a peck on the cheek, much to my surprise. “I’ll text you the location and time when I get my hands on it!” Picking up her feet, she turns around and heads for her room. “Wait.” I grab her right sleeve. Confused, she turns her head around to face me and at that moment, I plant a kiss on her cheeks. “That’s payback for what you did,” I give her a smirk. She mumbles something underneath her breath but it’s inaudible to me. However, judging by her slight wobble back to her room, I can tell she enjoyed it.

The day of the party, Rina has instructed me to come meet her by the bookstore in front of the station. As I stare at my perfectly put disguise laid out on my bed, I get a knock on the door. Inui peeks his head into my room. “Can you go pick up some groceries?” “Sure.” I can make it back in time to change into my disguise then head to the party. “The least you could do is pick up ingredients since you don’t know how to cook a meal even if your life depended on it.” A mischievous Hino peaks his head in. As much as I would love to blast his head for making that comment, I could never while Inui was here. “What’s with the get-up?” Hino turns his gaze over to the disguise on the bed. “Nothing much, just don’t touch it, I’ll be leaving now.” I leave the base with a very clear feeling that Hino would definitely touch it. 

//

Moments later, I’m walking through the streets as strangers stride past by me. That took forever. I grumble with my hands full of groceries, making my way back to the car. The last item on the list were these stupid tapioca balls that I basically searched the entire city for. “She better make something good with them.” I tuck the list back into my shirt pocket, the name of the preparator was written right next to the desired ingredient. Rina’s scribbled name looks petite and rushed. She probably had the idea to make bubble tea at the last minute. I put the load of paper bags into the trunk and slam it down sturdy. “Now let’s go home and-” “Masaharu Ryuzaki?” What? “I think you have the wrong person, sir.” “Then turn around and let us see your face.” Crap, I don’t have time for this. Best thing I can do right now is… RUN! I break out into a sprint, hoping to get these men off my track. 

“There’s nowhere for you to go.” In the midst of the chase, I find myself face to face with an inescapable path. How did they manage to find me? This is the first time I’ve ever been recognized with my disguise in. These sunglasses should have hidden my identity completely! (No shade but that is actually his in-game “disguise.” A pair of sunglasses.) “Hear me out gentleman, I don’t want to fight you or anything.” “Do you not remember what you did to us?” “I don’t even remember who you are.” 

< Insert the mysterious men explaining a crime Masaharu committed against their group as he shows Masaharu a scar he gave him during their previous encounter. I can’t be bothered to write this up >

Finally, he finishes explaining. I look up at the sun which has already begun its descent. I’m going to be late at this rate. I wasn’t planning on shedding any blood today but my girl’s going to be waiting for me soon. 

//

I stuff the gun back into my pocket, the men lay in anguish on the floor. (Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor). I didn’t kill them, just immobilized their movement. I look at my watch which has bits of blood splattered on it. Agh, damn! That fight took a hell load of time. If I didn’t have my gun on me, it’d have taken even longer. Rina won’t mind me being 15 minutes late to the party...right? I steer the car through the bustling city, not even making time to get home. The groceries and disguise can wait, hopefully they don’t mind seeing bits of blood on my outfit. I park my car outside of the train station, getting out to look around for Rina. Damn, she’s not in front of the book store, probably already at the party. The building is of walking distance from the station and with a parking spot already found, I begin my walk to the party. Entering the party alone must have taken her a lot of guts, even after what she told her co-workers. Plus, I don’t want to look like I just ghosted her on this meeting. I grab my phone out, I already told Rina that I would be late but she hasn’t seen my message yet. Rustling my hair in frustration, random thoughts enter my brain. Maybe forcing them to shut up wouldn’t be so bad an idea? (LET IT ALL OUT LET YOUR FEELINGS OUT, LET THE WORLD KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ALL ABOUT - Zela) No, get it together, Rina wouldn’t want you to do that. As I’m walking through the area, I hear a conversation that perks my ears. “We’re now officially husband and wife.” A couple snuggles together, leaving the marriage bureau.

“I can’t wait to see my lovely husband when I get home from work.” While their PDA makes me stay away from them, it makes me think. If Rina and I were married… when she came home from work, I would be able to welcome her home with a warm (yet deadly) meal, we could take a bath together and afterwards (insert something definitely NSFW). These fuzzy imaginative thoughts fill my head for the remainder of the walk.

//

This should be the right apartment number, I study the text Rina had sent me a few days ago. Light emits from underneath the door and I can hear chattering from inside. However, none of the voices belong to Rina. I knock on the door before opening it with caution. “Hello, I’m Rina’s husband, Rasaharu Myuzaki.” (can you tell I put much effort into creating the name?) 

“Husband?!” I can hear the shock come from a couple of girls. Crap! I got it mixed up with the couple’s conversation. (SPY X FAMILY REFERENCE, IF YOU GET IT, I LOVE YOU)

Before I could clarify the mix up, Rina speaks up on my behalf. 

“Yes, Masa- Rasaharu is my husband, so with this, can you stop talking bad behind my back, Chisaki?” I glance at who I assume is Chisaki, the one who started all of this. 

“Myuzaki, you’re covered in blood.” A gentleman offers me a towel which I kindly accept. “Thank you. I work as a butcher so I often deal with chopping up pigs, especially pigs that think it is okay to talk shit about my wife.” I give Chisaki a look that tells her she better leave this country or she’ll be dead by midnight. My plan works and Chisaki immediately gets down on her knees in front of Rina and begs for her forgiveness. Three other women who I can assume to be part of her posse also do the same. Rina looks relieved, having this situation come to a close, however, there’s a hint of unrest on her face. “Now that we’re done here-” I tug at her waist. “I will be taking my lovely wife away, I hope you all don’t mind.” The confusion on Rina’s face is clear as day but she still leaves with me after saying her farewells. 

//

The ride to the spot was a silent one, where Rina just spent the entire time trying to rub the blood off my clothing and face. (omg girlfriend goals <3) “Where is this place?” I stop the car near the edge of a cliff, the both of us get out and walk closer towards the edge. Before us is the city and the night sky. The lights create an orange like hue over the city, making it almost impossible to take my eyes off it. Compared to the noise and bustle of the city, the deafening silence here almost sounds unreal. “Found this place a while ago, thought you might want to blow some steam off here.” 

“How did you know I was stressed?” 

“As if you would be satisfied enough with just an apology from Chisaki.” Rina gives me a warm smile. “You’re right.” She cups her hands over her mouth and inhales. “EAT (doodoo) HONEY! I BET YOU CAN’T EVEN GET A DECENT BOYFRIEND WITH YOUR RAT ASS A T T I T U D E!” At the end, there’s a quick silence but then we both burst out into laughter. “That’s my girl!” I cup my hands over my mouth just like what Rina did. “TALK (doodoo), GET HIT.” At this point, Rina is doubling over with laughter. This little screaming session continued on for a while until our lungs could not scream anymore. 

“...I’m glad you came.” “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Well...before I even entered the room, I could hear them berating insults about me. I felt really down thinking that maybe you weren't really coming.”

“I sent you a text that I would be late.” Rina checks her phone and looks at me with a sheepish smile, “sorry,” she laughs.

“But luckily, your amazing husband was here to save the day, right?” “Husband? That is a very bold thing for you to say.” 

“Why? You can’t see me giving you a ring one day?” I throw a little joke at Rina but her reaction is completely different from what I expected. With her face beat red, she punches my arm. 

“Anyways, didn’t you say you were going to wear a ‘disguise?’” I can tell she’s embarrassed by my joke so I let it slide. “You’re not going to question the blood?” 

“I trust that you didn’t kill anyone?” 

“You’re correct, just had to deal with some guys from the past.” 

“Oooh, look at my hubby acting so brave and strange.” “Now look who’s saying husband.”

We spend the rest of the night just bantering as I think, ‘she’d make a lovely wife one day.’ 

EXTRAS:

“Shouldn’t we be going home soon? I’m hungry.” Rina asks me. 

Home? Hungry? Food? OH CRAP. I left the groceries in the car. I think of how much the car is going to stink because of the fish that was left in there for at least an hour. Fuck my life.

~

When I get home, I remember that I left my disguise on my bed. Entering my room, my disguise is missing. Instead, there’s a clown costume on my bed and all the clothes in my closet are missing. “What the ever loving fuck?” And there’s only one person on this damn earth who knew about this and would do it. “H I N O.” 

Rina’s POV: 

I come into work with a bright and cheery face. On my way to work, I got a free coffee for being the one millionth customer and got to pet an adorable puppy. So, tell me why, do I hear Chisaki blasting her mouth off first thing in the morning? “I heard Rina was spotted in the red light district with someone.” 

“And he looked younger than her, is she planning on being a cougar?” 

This isn’t the first time I heard this from them. I did not want to start a fight right then and there. 

“I was not in the red light district yesterday and I do have a boyfriend who is older than me, in fact. If you want to see him, I’m willing to bring him to a party.” 

“Really now?” Chisaki looks me up and down suspiciously.

“Then bring him. We’ll all bring our boyfriends too so they can all talk.”

“Oh how considerate of you, make sure to text me the details.” As I walk away from Chisaki and her grouper, I begin screaming in my head. IDIOT, IDIOT, IDIOT, I D I O T. Ahhhhh, how am I supposed to ask Masaharu?

~

After Masaharu gives me a surprise kiss on the cheek, my face instantly reddens. “That’s payback for what you did.” 

“I didn’t know revenge was supposed to be this sweet.” I mumble under my breath, hoping he didn’t hear me. My heart’s pounding a mile a minute.

~

Ah fuck, Masaharu didn’t show up at our designated spot. I’m standing in front of the door. I’m already late and even worse, my boyfriend isn’t here with me. What was I expectating? More than this being dangerous, it was plain stupid.

~

When Masaharu called himself my husband, my brain went full on meltdown. H-h-husband? Is he into marriage roleplay? Anyways, I can use this chance to finally shut Chisaki up once and for all.

~

“Why? You can’t see me giving you a ring one day?” YOU DON’T JUST RANDOMLY PROPOSE TO A GIRL LIKE THAT!!!!! DJDLDSSDF. I punch Masaharu on the arm to hide my embarrassment, THAT’S THE SECOND TIME ALREADY IN THIS FANFIC (yes I just threw a 4th wall moment in like that)

~

“Hey Masaharu?” “Hm?” “Why does the car smell like rotten fish?”

~

When I get to work the next morning, Chisaki comes up to me. “I’m so sorry for talking shit behind your back for a while now!” 

“It’s okay, let’s put it behind us now.” 

“But I do have to say, how come you never told me you had such a sexy husband?” Wait what, excuse the fuck me? You wanna fucking fight for my mans?  

[slashhinginghasher]

Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 1: Thief In the Night

Listen. I love the "Big Scary is only soft for their SO" as much as the next horny person, but I feel like we as a community have been largely overlooking the fact that Chromeskull canonically tortures and murders people (specifically women) for personal enjoyment. So I'm gonna be the nasty bitch that brings that side of him back up again lol.

You can also read this on my Ao3.

Marena hated a lot of things. But if she had to list them, “summer” would be very fucking near the top, and “summer in the Southern United States” would be right next to it. She hated the way the sun beat down like an anvil. She hated the sticky, suffocating humidity that draped itself over everything until it felt as though the entire world was sweating. She hated the waves of heat that emanated from the ground, even in the dead of night. She hated that even the fucking ocean provided no relief; she’d nearly gagged the first and only time she’d attempted a midnight swim, the water curling around her ankles like tepid bathwater. She wanted to peel off her clothes, shave her head, wriggle out of her skin. She wanted to crawl into a freezer and wait until winter, but that season didn’t seem to exist here in the armpit of the world, so maybe she’d stay there until she was dead.

There were no freezers to be found in the swampy vegetation bordering the empty road she followed. There was, however, an abundance of gnats, flies, mosquitoes, and other nameless biting, flying things so great that Marena was seriously considering setting herself on fire just to kill them off. She’d been on the road for weeks. Her feet were blistered. Her stomach was starting to eat itself. If she had to comb any more spanish moss out of her hair she was going to scream. But she kept going, one foot in front of the other, because it was better than turning back. And she stayed in this stupid sauna of a country because it was better than what lay across the ocean.

Marena walked, and dreamed of snow.

***

The car was a temptation. Shiny and black, it gave off an impression of speed even while sitting still. And it was gloriously unattended. Marena had been watching it for nearly fifteen minutes and had seen neither hide nor hair of the driver.

Her court-appointed therapist in Miami had said that a lot of her problems stemmed from a lack of impulse control. Marena thought that was bullshit. She could control her impulses just fine when she wanted; it was just that she so rarely wanted to. With a mental Fuck You to Dr. Call Me Linda, she pulled the wire hook out of her bag and popped the car’s lock in a matter of seconds.

The rest of the job was not so simple. The car was a newer model; the dashboard alone had enough electronics to power a small rocketship. At first, it resisted her efforts, almost as if it didn’t want to be stolen. Her nerves felt like a live wire as too many minutes stretched past, expecting the owner to return. Two screwdrivers and broken nail later, she resorted to swearing and brute force.

“Come on you piece of shit suka blyat’, START!” she snarled, forcing screwdriver number three into the keyhole with her fist and cranking it as hard as she could. The engine roared to life, the radio blaring a hip hop dance remix she’d heard outside at least half a dozen clubs. She slammed her hand against the power button and froze, the only sounds now the purring of the engine and the incessant insect chatter. Scarcely believing her luck, Marena slid into the leather driver’s seat and carefully shut the door. She tapped the gas pedal and grinned when the engine revved in response. Cranking the air conditioning and easing out onto the road, Marena let out a triumphant whoop and floored it.

***

The sky was turning a dusky, pre-dawn blue when the car slowed to a stop.

“What?” The tank was still half full. Marena stomped on the gas. No response. “Chto za khuynya? What the fuck?” She punched the steering column, punched the dashboard, succeeded only in scraping her knuckles. The car shut off. “No no no no…” The cooling engine ticked mockingly at her. “How the fuck…?”

The screen on the dashboard flared to life.

NOT YOURS, PIGGY

Marena’s very heartfelt Fuck! froze in her throat. She had to get out. She had to get out now. Eyes still on the screen, she pulled at the door handle. Locked. When did that happen? And why couldn’t she unlock it? Rage bubbled up in her chest as she yanked at the handle, rage at whatever bastard was controlling the car, and at her own stupid mistake for stealing a goddamned remote control car, of all the dumb fucking…. Marena forced herself to stop before she did something else idiotic, like ripping the handle off the door. Took a slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She scanned the futuristic dashboard. Too many buttons, probably not enough time to push them all, assuming they’d even respond to her touch.

Come on, Masha. You love to break shit. Duh. Marena pulled her only spare shirt out of her bag and quickly wrapped it around her elbow, planning to smash her way through the window.

The guy with the crowbar beat her to it.

***

The first thing Marena noticed when she came to was sweet, blessed cold, the kind one felt in warehouses with industrial AC systems.

The second thing she noticed was that she was chained to a chair. Literally chained; she could feel the links chilling her wrists and ankles. Another chain dug into her hips like a too-tight airplane seatbelt. Whoever tied her up knew what they were doing then; metal couldn’t be frayed or worked loose like fiber rope. And the restraint across her lap prevented her from bucking or contorting into a more favorable fighting position.

Speaking of fighting… all of her knives were still in place. Wrists, boots, back, pockets. Which meant one of three things:

1. This was a rush job. 2. Her mystery abductor was half an idiot and didn’t check her for weapons. 3. Her mystery abductor knew she was armed and didn’t do anything about it because they knew she wouldn’t be able to beat them in a fight anyway.

Marena really hoped it wasn’t the third one.

A quick mental check revealed that she was still fairly intact. Her muscles were stiff, her head ached, and she had a nasty case of dry-mouth, but she’d had hangovers worse than this before. The lack of a massive head injury meant she hadn’t been beaten unconscious, so she must have been drugged. She tried to think past the car window shattering, but couldn’t remember being forced to swallow or inhale anything. A needle, then?

Marena heard heavy footsteps approaching, then the rustle of fabric as someone settled in front of her. She briefly toyed with the idea of playing possum, but the need to face whatever was about to happen head-on won out. Not weak. Not anymore.

She opened her eyes and came face to face with a grinning skull.

Well, it was a mask shaped like a grinning skull, attached to a head that was most probably human. The mask shined in the weak light of… wherever the fuck she was. It was meant to be intimidating, distracting, and Marena forced herself to look away and take in the other details of her captor.

The guy was a beast. Crouched as he was, he was still eye-level with her. He’d dwarf her standing. Shaved head, black tailored suit (why though), black gloves (too thin to be leather, latex maybe?). The red light of a camcorder blinked from a mount on his right shoulder. She caught a glint of metal near his waistband but didn’t let her gaze linger long enough to identify exactly what type of weapon he was packing.

That familiar destructive urge, the need to kick and claw and tear, crept through her veins. Her fingers wanted to twitch. Her teeth wanted to clench. Marena forced herself into stillness. Not yet. Wait for the right time. Patience. The skull stared at her, motionless, expressionless, so she returned the favor. He pulled out a cell phone, typed something, and held it up for her to see.

HELLO PIGGY

Years of practice kept Marena’s face blank while a litany of choice curses flew through her head.

“This is about the car,” she said. It wasn’t a question. The skull nodded anyway, and reached for her.

Fuck it.

Marena lunged.

[stray-writer-glitch]

Cuddles

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

Genre: FLUFF

Word count: 1074

Requested: can i request a super fluffy hyunjin fic where he helps the reader fall asleep please :(( i love ur writing by the way <3 - Anon + HI. CAN I REQUEST SOME HYUNJIN FLUFF PLEASE, maybe like he’s a little whiny because you’re busy and he’s trying to get your attention? Ooof thank you love!!!!!!!!also hi I love you❤️❤️ - @hyunjins-wife

A/n: Hope you both like this!!! also hope you don't mind that I combined the requests

The blue glare of the computer screen stared back at you, any natural light long gone, seeing how it was nearing midnight. You however couldn’t afford to follow rules of nature and going to bed at proper times. You had an essay to finish, or you’d fail.

And that’s how Hyunjin found you, with your fingers tapping furiously at the keyboard trying to force the words on the page to make sense. Figure hunched over, tired out of your mind but too stubborn to quit until you had at least a page of the stupid thing typed up.

“Y/n?” Hyunjin poked his head into your room. “So you weren’t kidding when you said you’d be up ‘till sunrise, huh?”

“Nope, this essay isn’t going to finish itself.” You grumbled, not lifting your eyes from the screen. You knew by his voice that Hyunjin was tired and sleepy and that look on him made you soft, softer than you were usually and you did not have time to turn into a puddle of mush at the moment.

“And how much of that essay makes sense at the moment?” He was smirking, you could tell without even looking at him. Coming up behind you he gently rested his chin on your head, arms wrapping loosely around your shoulders. You were thankful for the darkness of the room, and his position, that hid your blush.

“Listen, my brain is tired and stubborn. I need to just finish the idea. I can edit tomorrow. I edit better than I write.” You grumbled, hoping he couldn’t feel your heart racing 1000 miles a minute.

“That doesn’t make sense but okay.” Thankfully Hyunjin moved off of you to flop onto your bed. “Now please finish up quickly and come cuddle with me.” He whined.

“How old are you again?”

“Old enough to know when I need cuddles and sleep. Come on, I know you’re tired.”

You sighed, closing your eyes against the glare of the screen.

“Y/n please? I need cuddles right now.”

Cuddles with the overgrown child seemed like heaven right now.

“Yyyyyyy/nnnnnn.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Gosh why are you so whiny and needy today?” You tried to sound annoyed but it came out more tired and you couldn’t keep a smile off your face when it came to him.

“Because today has been a long day and I need you to make all the nightmares stay away.” He said matter-of-factly as you closed your laptop and made your way to the bed in the dark.

“I make your nightmares go away?” You giggled, settling down, after some maneuvering you found yourself burying your face in Hyunjin’s chest, a heartbeat roaring in your ears, probably your own.

“Of course you do.” He said, hugging you closer momentarily. “Now sleep. We both need it.”

You hummed your response not even noticing how quickly you nodded off.

…

You woke up with your nose in someone’s soft shirt. You were so comfy and warm you didn’t want to open your eyes or wake up. You snuggled closer into the sturdy softness of the shirt before realizing what you were doing. As soon as your sleepy brain realized that the shirt your were so in love with probably had a body inside it your eyes snapped open.

“Did you know you look like an angel when you’re asleep?” The voice came as much from above you as from right in front of you. The chest you were hugging so tightly rumbling in a laugh.

You froze up. Hyunjin. You sleep-cuddled your roommate and best friend. This went against all the unspoken rules. Didn’t it?

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” His eyebrows lifted in worry, looking down at you.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything else embarrassing.” You buried your face in your hands, rolling over to your other side, away from Hyunjin and his dam perfect face.

“Nothing but mumbling something incoherent and being overall adorable.” He sat up, leaning on his elbows, to see you better.

“Hyunjin, please.” You begged through your hands.

“Please what? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I was the clingy one whining for cuddles last night.” You heard what sounded like Hyunjin facepalming, and hitting the mattress as his arms gave out, morning drowsiness taking over. “I can’t believe I actually did that.”

“Why did you do that?” You asked, genuinely curious, and also, maybe, searching for a reason to convince your heart to stop beating so fast. A rejection should do the tri-

“Because I like you. A lot actually.” Hyunjin said simply. Okay, so maybe a confession did the trick too, cause your heart just stopped.

You didn’t know if you wanted to turn around and hug him even tighter or to take a running start out the window.

“Why did I just say that? Stupid Hyunjin.” He was definitely facepalming now. “Look, I know this is rushed and sudden but there’s no taking it back now. Y/n, can you look at me for a second? I really need to say this properly to your face.”

Silently you turned to face him, hands falling between the two of you. He grabbed one of them, enveloping your shaking hand his huge one. It took everything in you to look up into his eyes, but when you did your insides melted at how soft and warm his brown eyes were. He looked so cute, taking a deep breath to prep himself for what he was about to say.

“Y/n I really like you, a lot.” Hyunjin breathed out, closing his eyes.

“You’re so cute. Did you know that?” You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Y/n” He started to whine.

“And you’re so caring,” you kept going. “You have a killer work ethic but you never forget to tell me that I need to get rest. You are one of the softest and kindest people I have ever met.”

Your other hand came up to brush aside a few rebellious strands of his hair out of his eyes. “And I guess that’s why I fell for you so easily.” You finished.

A smile spread across his features as he took in the information. Immediately he pulled you back into a hug, burying his face in your neck. Your arms went around his head, playing with the soft hair, a soft chuckle breaking from your lips at his cute action.

[fanficparker]

"Why don't you date me?" | Haz one-shot

Title: “Then why don’t you date me?”

Pairing: Best friends!Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word count: 1520 words

Based on: ‘How I fell in love with my Best friend’ an amazing Indian short film by the youtube channel 'Filter copy’.

Warnings: Angst, painful jealously, emotional breakdown, fluff

Summary: Harrison realizes that he was in love with his best friend, when she starts dating another guy.

Written by: @fanficparker (Wattpad/ Instagram/ tumblr)

You saw Harrison trying to act cool in front of that super boring chick who was just talking nonsense and thinking that she was an expert in flirting, it was your time to save your best friend from that weirdo.

“Hi babe!” you yelled as you pushed that girl away and immediately hugged him.

“It’s been just 3 minutes, but I missed you so much” you continued hugging him tighter making that weird chick roll her eyes and leave.  As she left, you pulled away chuckling….. “Thank me later,”, you said looking at him.  “Uh y/n, what if I and she could be cute together?” He said looking at the direction where that girl left.  “Come on Haz, you can get someone better, I am sure you would have died of boredom if I haven’t rescued you,”, you said sounding obvious.  “I m 22 and still never had even a single girlfriend till now, Tom makes fun of me, saying that I m secretly dating you Y/n.” He said. “Look there,” you pointed towards another girl making his gaze shift.  “Her name is Raina, she would be much better than that previous one,”, you said as you and Harrison went inside the hall to enjoy the party…

As far as everyone knows, you and Harrison have been best friends forever. It was impossible to separate both of you. From parties to walking your dogs, from video games to late night food cravings, from movies to sleepovers, you both were almost together everywhere and yet you both were just friends. You both spent more time hanging out with each other than your own families.

Your family and friends including the whole Holland family and Osterfield family continuously shipped you both, but none of you ever paid attention to it.  Until, that one day…

You called Harrison at your (and his) favourite restaurant, to make him meet someone special… He came earlier than you. You entered after him with a boy of his age getting his eyes widened. “Harrison this is Leo, he works with me,” you said taking a seat opposite to Harrison near to Leo.  “Yeah, Y/n told me about you,” Harrison said shaking hands with Leo. “So, well me and Leo are dating,” you said a bit shy, and Harrison’s smile faded away in an instant. He has never ever imagined you with anyone else. The way you and Leo laughed together, the way Leo knew some of your secrets, every time you and Leo held hands, he felt like his whole world cracked. That was the day, he realized he liked you much more than a friend, rather he had feelings for you, he loved you.

You were still oblivious to his feelings, but something in you made you feel like if something was wrong. You even sometimes fake excused Leo to spend time with your friend Harrison. It had been a week since you and Leo were dating and you were at Harrison’s house both of you playing the new Spider-man play station game when you normally asked him a question. “So, what’s up with you and Raina?” “Huh? Who’s Raina?” He asked putting his game console down.  “The girl I suggested you for dating,” you said looking at him.  “I.. uh ……. I am not interested in her,” he said looking away.  “That means you are interested in someone else?” You questioned, cheerfully poking his arm.  “Yeah, maybe,” he said softly facing you again.  “Don’t tell me, it’s me?” you said laughing at your stupid joke, which wasn’t stupid for him.  “Ah.. actually Y/n, it’s—” He started to speak, but couldn’t complete because of your phone ringing. You picked up the phone. It was Leo’s call, he wanted to go on a vacation to LA with you. You kept his phone on hold turning to your best friend. “Leo is asking me to go for a vacation with him… What should I do?” You asked Harrison.  “I don’t know… I mean yeah, you should go, he’s your boyfriend, you should spend time with him.” He said with a fake smile, his eyes were ready to shred tears anytime. You cheerfully said yes to Leo and hung up the phone.  “So, Haz what were you saying earlier?” you asked him. “I.. Actually am busy…..So, I should be leaving,” He tried to hold back his tears.  “It’s your home Haz!” you said laughing.  “I have to visit Tom…” And he rushed out not even waiting for your response. That was the day he cried all night in his car. Seeing you with someone else was the most painful sight for him ever.

And the next day, you went for that one week holiday with Leo. Harrison tried his best to get over you, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you, as his memories with you played again and again in his head. He realized how much he wanted to spend time with you. How much he wanted to kiss you, wake up next to you in the morning, to make you his.

It was just the third day of your trip and he was already sleepless and watching random TV shows munching the leftover food from the fridge sitting on his couch when he heard his doorbell rung. It was 1 am, a quite unusual time. He opened up the door and found you standing there. Before he could even welcome you, you hugged him and pecked his cheek making his heart skip a beat. He got you in and gave you a seat on the couch next to him.

“So, you are back so early, and visiting me at midnight?” He asked, worried. “There’s nothing to worry, I just didn’t felt good with Leo, I think he isn’t my type, he’s so serious and boring, so we broke up and I came back, also I was missing you sooo much”, you said grabbing the food. “So, you and he aren’t together right,” he asked weirdly staring at you.  “Yeah, that’s what I said, he’s good, but he isn’t my type, I mean I like guys who are funny, free, romantic, friendly, div, guys like you,” you stated just as a fact, not at all thinking about Harrison. “Then why don’t you date me?” he yelled all of a sudden getting your attention. You thought it was a joke and you tried to laugh, but his serious expressions were telling otherwise, developing a weird tension between both of you.  “You mean you like— ” he cuts you off. “I love you Y/n. ” He continued futher, “Every time I see you, I forget everything around me, I try to find excuses just to spend time with you… I-I want to spend my whole life with you.”

You abruptly stood up, him following shortly.  “What, but what if it ruins our friendship?” You started getting teary, and Harrison’s eyes were already glossy.  “It won’t, I can’t see you with anyone else, it kills me…And you too left Leo because you said you wanted someone like me! So why not me?” he said almost yelling as tears escaped his eyes, and so did yours.

He thought that maybe you will leave him after his confession, so he stormed away to his room locking it, too weak to face you.

“Open the door Haz!” You yelled crying, knocking at his door…  “Please open the door!” You screamed, you were afraid that he could do anything stupid.  And finally, after a whole 10 minutes, he opened the door with his cheeks stained in tears. His miserable look made your heart sink, you instantly hugged him. “You almost killed me of fear,” you murmured in his chest and pulled apart.  “I am sorry Y/n, if you want we can forget whatever I said,” he said wiping away his tears.  “I don’t want to,” you swallowed a lump in your throat. “W-Wha..?” before he could even ask what do you mean, you already crashed your lips on his. The kiss made all your tension go away. The way his hands travelled your waist and stroked your hairs and the way your hands were pressing his cheeks, brought instant relief to both of you. You pulled apart starring at his eyes and so did he.

“I can’t find someone else who’s like you, cause you are a one-piece,” you said plastering a big smile on both of your faces…….

(This fic was based on a YouTube short film ’How I fell in love with my best friend’ by ’Filter copy’ ( it’s in Hindi but, has English subtitles). I really loved this film, so decided to make an Haz fic out of it…)

***

Requests are open..!

[nctflirts]

busy; lee donghyuck

a/n- literally nobody asked for this but its a remake of one of my old johnny fics so here,,, this is for u hyuckzens

warnings: just fluff from when I was high

You knew Donghyuck was busy.

You knew that. It was okay that he was busy, he was finally getting to do what he loved with some of his closest friends.

It was okay that you weren’t one of them anymore. And no matter how much it hurt not seeing him, you never brought it up. Not in the midst of his hurried texts.

You weren’t going to be that best friend.

You weren’t going to be the love struck best friend who wanted all of his attention.

Because at the end of the day, you only wanted what was best for him.

But it’s nights like tonight.

Nights like now when you’re lying awake in bed, remembering how his laugh sounds like your favorite song, and how lovely his hugs were.

That’s when it hurts a little. You couldn’t sleep, his voice playing on repeat for hours on end, never taking a break as you replayed every good memory you’d ever had with him.

You don’t know why you were sulking like this. It was stupid. Nothing had happened. He was just busy. And you didn’t need to be awake right now.

So when your phone dinged at 2:13am, you were confused. And even more so to see his name on your screen.

You lay there in the pitch dark, your heart aching and your skin tingling remembering his eyes. Maybe it was fate that he was texting you right now.

Right now, when he’s the reason you can’t sleep.

hey, are you awake? sent 2:13am

What kind of a question was that? There was no logical reason you should be awake right now.

But here you were.

yep! read 2:14am

Was that it? He really texted you this damn early and got your heartbeat up for that? You rolled your eyes. How the HELL did you let yourself get this infatuated? You waited a minute. A minute turned into five, then ten. You looked at your phone again. Nothing. This bitch. Your heart felt more hurt than you thought possible, and for no reason. He couldn’t leave you hanging like this.

did you want something? read 2:26am

Nothing for another 5 minutes. It took everything in you not to heave your phone across the room. You were just about to give up and return to your lovesick slumber when you felt a buzz, and your heart jumped.

hey bab! sorry, i was in practice. couldn’t respond. I’m hungry :( sent 2:32am

This was your chance. THIS WAS YOUR FUCKING CHANCE You willed your hands not to shake as you typed out slowly.

aw, let’s go get something to eat then! read 2:33am

At this ungodly hour. It wasn’t even seconds before he responded.

deadass? BC I’m down 100% sent 2:33am

Yeah, deadass! You jumped out of your bed, so fast and with such energy, you felt lightheaded for a moment. You quickly put on some sweatpants, and one of your hoodies. You knew you probably looked like shit, but at this moment, you just wanted to see him.

walking to McDonalds now. read 2:40am

McDonald’s had been your favorite meetup spot, seeing as it was a 3 minute walk from your apartment and a 10 minute drive from his. You walked briskly down the empty roads, not scared in the least. You didn’t have time to be scared. You were seeing him.

You were genuinely shocked when you find him inside the restaurant already. You give him a questioning glance as you walked in, the AC’s cold air hitting you hard.

also,

He looks like a fucking angel. His sweatpants were hanging off of his hips, his sweater was loose against his body, but still showing off his frame.

You swear he’s somehow gotten taller. It takes every bone in your body not to run to him, but you smile your widest and biggest smile as you approach the male standing in line. For a second, you were unsure if you should hug him or not, even though you wanted nothing more, but to your pleasant surprise, he engulfed you in a bear hug that made you almost completely disappear.

You nuzzled his chest shyly as he rocked back and forth, arms locking you to him. This is the best feeling in the fucking world.

Being with him. He didn’t pull away for a while, instead holding you there, as he looked at the menu.

Finally, you grunted.

"Hyuck. I can't breathe.” You managed, laughing. Your heart felt untouchable right now.

You felt so distinctly safe.

He chuckled as he let you go, but kept his arm around you. And you tried to etch the feelings and the sounds into your heart. The workers behind the counter were waiting impatiently.

At 2:45am, there were only a good 3 customers. One girl coughed, as if to remind you of your surroundings. You felt your cheeks heat up. After you’d both ordered, you walked over to the window, looking outside at the half moon and the clear, midnight sky.

You felt Donghyuck's body heat behind you and see his reflection in the glass and smiled at his comepletely undone hair.

“I missed you.” Finnaly, his voice broke the comfortable silence.

You could have screamed, and you gulped to keep from. Did he miss miss you? Or just…. casually miss you? You gulped.

"I missed you. More.” You turned to look up at him, and his eyes closed as he smiled, grabbing your hands in his and putting them on his face. You were so close to him. Your hands cupping his cheeks, you wanted to kiss him more than anything.

He felt it too. He’d known for the longest time how you felt. You never even had to tell him, because felt the same. He loved you with every bone in his body.

But he was scared when you hadn’t reached out in a while. Terrified you didn’t love him anymore.

He just wanted to kiss you.

Right now. In this cold ass McDonald’s at 3am.

Your faces neared each other involuntarily, almost as an instinct. You felt your heart stop and start at the same time.

"____? Donghyuck?” The woman behind the counter snapped the both of you out of it, motioning to your ready orders on the counter.

This was some movie shit. You blushed as his eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

A soft smile as he walked up to the counter. You followed him as he walked out of the door, not knowing where exactly he was taking you, but you trusted him.

You chuckled when his lanky frame climbed the hood of his car. You followed suit, his strong hands helping you up onto the very top. You smiled contentedly as he handed you your fries.

“Thank you.” You say softly. He hums.

You then begin your talk. You weren’t sure how long you talked, but you were both finished with your meals and he had gotten down to throw the trash away at least twice and you were still talking. You lay flat on the hood, and he watches your face as you scan the starless sky.

"Stunning.” He said, audibly. You eyes snapped open.

"Huh?”

“I said you’re stunning.” He repeated, a crooked smile playing on his lips. Your heart screamed.

“It’s too early for this, Lee Donghyuck.” You brush it off, breaking the gaze you were sharing and looking up at the few stars scattered in the sky.

You felt his gaze on you and you pushed his face away with your hand. “Stop looking at me!” You’d whine.

He laughed a big, hearty laugh, throwing his head back and messing up his hair even more as you tell him to shut up. You couldn’t help but smile at his laugh, locking that in your heart for later, too.

"You know something?” He said thoughtfully. “These last few months have been absolute hell.”

You nod, sighing. He deserves better.

“Like absolute fucking shit.” He continues.

“Practice is that hard?” You sit up, resting on your elbows.

"No.” He says, then backtracks. “I mean, yes. But that’s not why it’s hell. It’s been hell because I haven’t seen you.”

Your cheeks are probably ridiculously red, and you thank the heavens for the bad street lights, hoping he won’t see.

He does.

"You’re one of the most important things in my life, you know? Like, you’ve always been. And you’ll always be my priority.”

You groaned, throwing your head back at the affection, but you actually think you might die.

You sit up fully now, reaching for his hand and brushing his fingers. He’s been working hard, you swore they hadn't been that rough before. You brought his hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it.

“I love you.” He smiles at his lap. He’s gotten shy now. Your heart was beating wildly.

“Let’s not go months without seeing each other again, okay?” He says slowly, looking up at you. You nod, his hand still in yours. You just stare at each other for a moment, your eyes scanning his and vice versa.

Everything in you wanted to tell him he was your world.

Everything in you wanted him. His lips parted slowly, and your eyes momentarily flickered down to them.

Fucking hell, his lips.

He noticed, because he licked them immediately after. You cleared your throat.

“Hyuck?”

“Hm?”

"If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” You ask slowly, and within seconds you feel him kissing you. Your heart came to a complete stop and still managed to beat faster than it ever had before.

The kiss was gentle.

You could still taste the burger on him.

There was no fighting for domination, just two people melting into one with each other. Your hands clung his and his found his way to your neck, and you felt him chuckle.

here you were, at 4am, in a McDonald’s parking lot making out with your best friend.

[boredzoomerpire]

Found a nice ask meme on questionslisting, good.

Get to know me

1. Name: Lucian Michaelis

2. Age: 21

3. City that you live in: Won't say the city, but it's California.

4. What do most people not know about you? I'm not American by birth. Oh yeah, also the vampire thing. But I figure more people know that, bizarre as that is to think about.

5. What do most people know you for? I dunno. Being the baby-faced guy with two cats who doesn't go out in the sun. You'd have to ask my neighbors.

6. Hobbies: Gaming, writing, reading, singing. Dancing, somewhat.

7. What are your passions? Writing poetry and tending to cats. Music in general.

8. What do you search for in a significant other? A big heart and a sweet smile. Nice figure would be a plus, but ah well.

7. What are you most proud of? My poetry.

8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love? I spent hours talking to my cats last night. Unless you mean love in *that* sense. Forgot that one.

9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it? I collect video games.

10. List 10 things off of your bucket list. See the Taj Mahal and the Pyramids, write dialog for a video game, find the love of my life, find a way to eat something again, can't think of more.

11. What was the last thing you learned? How to post something on this blasted website.

12. How many relationships have you been in? Three.

13. Turn ons: Bright eyes, sweet smile, sense of humor, so on.

14. Turn offs: An empty cranium or an empty conscience.

15. Favorite food: none

16. Favorite drink: take a guess.

17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received? A puppet show

18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic? Quite optimistic.

19. Do you sleep during class? Yes.

20. What is the most expensive thing you own? My computer. I pieced it together, but it can't be less than a few grand.

21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own? Old flip phone. Worthless now, but it still works well and so I can keep an Italian number so my grandparents in Europe can call.

22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone? A lot.

23. Text or call? Text.

24. Opinion on long distance? Not sure.

25. What is your definition of success? Being happy to wake up.

26. Favorite song? Too many to list

27. Favorite artist? Possibly Abney Park, not sure though.

28. Celebrity crush/crushes? None.

29. When was the last time you read for fun? Today.

30. Favorite flower? Peonies and roses.

31. What is the best gift you could receive right now? A car. My Honda is as old as I am.

32. Any guilty pleasures? Corny pop songs.

33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself? I'd love to look slightly less like a kid.

34. What do you search for in a friend? I dunno. What happens happens.

35. How many times have you said "I love you" in the past month? Didn't keep count.

36. Where did you last go other than your room/home? Work.

37. Why do bad things happen to good people? Destiny has no morals.

38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye? I can probably regenerate my eye better than my heart.

39. How many green shirts do you own? None. Green isn't my cup of tea.

40. Do you like anime? Sorta.

41. What do you invest the most time in? Gaming.

42. What was the name of the last book you read? The Book Thief. Brilliant.

43. What's the difference between loving and liking someone? You like someone's superficial manners and appearance, and love someone's flaws.

44. Where are you most productive? At my desk with some music in my ears.

45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends. Talking, drinking tea, gaming.

46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone. Reading, listening to music, gaming.

47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist? Sure, when everyone's either dead or too tired of this shit.

48. Do you have any allergies? I used to be allergic to mosquitoes. No really. It wasn't fun. Oh yeah, and wasps.

49. When was the last time you cussed at someone? I cussed at Diane a couple hours ago. Coffins aren't scratching posts. Neither are arms

50. What was the last promise you made? I promised a friend I'd babysit their dog.

51. What was your last dream about? Waking up in a morgue. Fuck that nightmare.

52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be? Not sure.

53. How many countries have you visited? Italy, the United States, Scotland--that makes 3.

54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.) Writing.

56. When was the last time somebody complimented you? Yesterday Tommy said my outfit looked nice.

56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself? I'm the one with the over the top sense of style.

57. Do you consider yourself mature? No.

58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr? None. Yet.

59. What is your favorite quote? None in particular.

60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be? Don't hurt cats, don't be an ass, gift me an article of clothing at least once.

61. What is your greatest accomplishment? Getting Diane to tolerate Sardine.

62. Do you believe in the death penalty? Not really.

63. What are your goals for life? To find love and travel the Earth

64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now? Not even sure I am

65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world. | Not sure, truth be told. Possibly Vivec City from The Elder Scrolls. Dunno why, it seems cool.

66. What were you like in 2013? 8 years ago... oh god, I was a 13-year-old. 8th grade. Detentions on the daily, my stupid eggy ass saw confrontation as the "MaNlY" thing to do. Fucking hell, why did you have to dig that up? Nobody deserves to hear tales of stupid little boy Lucian.

67. Do you have a job? Yep. Graveyard shift at the nearby pharmacy. Dull, but I've got to have it.

68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend. Ah yes, guy named Tommy. He's trying to break into acting now and starting to see some results. When we were kids, he and his sister staged a whole-ass puppet show for my birthday. Didn't tell me. I smile to this day when I think about it

69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be? Making people more open-minded, that's for sure.

70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before? ...I've been pulling all-nighters every day for months now.

71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website? Spotify does it for my favorite website. Lots of music.

72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars? I don't much care for a million dollars. So long as I can pay rent and packs, I'm fine.

73. Does money equal happiness? Nah. I'm about ten times happier now scraping by than I was when I lived with my family and had all the money in the world.

74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime? Often, but I don't really keep count.

75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime? I haven't kept count of that either. Often. I'm an emotional guy.

76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told? An Italian joke about the Last Supper.

77. When was the last time you looked at the news? This morning. Yay on the US being first in the medal rankings of the Olympics. Slightly less yay on Italy being 10th

78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say? "Good afternoon!" Everything past that sounds like too much of a hassle.

79. What is your favorite animal? Cats and bats.

80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it? Ask someone who isn't dead.

81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at? Dunno.

82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get? I used to sleep pretty regularly, midnight to seven or eleven to six. The vampire thing isn't helping my sleep schedule any, though. I'm awake past 3 PM, and don't usually get over 5 hours of sleep.

83. Does age necessarily equal maturity? Nah, I've met some old idiots.

84. What is your favorite clothing store? There's a little clothing shop near where I live. I'd never wanna leave.

85. In the winter- beanies or gloves? Don't know, can't feel the cold (though contrary to popular belief, it gets cold in California)

86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail? A fish tail. People weren't made to fly. Says the one who *can* fly, but I don't like it.

87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it? I don't know, I don't think I care enough.

88. What do you fear the most? Destruction.

89. How many digits of pi can you recite? 3.14. Yep, that's it.

90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be? 2019, probably. No pandemic, stuff in my life started falling into place...

91. Describe yourself in one word. Restless

92. Describe your last victory. I beat a friend of mine at Pokemon Platinum. Nobody expects bug types.

93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen? I've seen a few. Couple UFOs.

94. What is something you will never forget? The stars. Shit, the stars. You simply don't forget the first time you see them with eyes like mine.

95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail? I've already got a treasonous overly-vivid memory. Wouldn't trade it for forgetfulness.

96. Have you ever broken a bone before? Well, yes, I think I broke my arm a few weeks ago. Not entirely sure because I can't exactly go to a doctor, but pretty sure. I can say this: regenerating bone sucks even with a regenerating power.

97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody? Meh. I tend to keep it to "like" and "dislike".

98. Coffee or tea? Tea's tastier, but coffee's more effective.

99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way? Funnily enough, lately I've definitely decided to work on my life. I've been taking care to brush my hair more, and to enjoy the small things more.

100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today? Hell if I know.

[gracieheartspedro]

Stuck with Me (Steve Harrington x Reader) PART 2

NOTE: IM SO HAPPY! The response on the first part had me so happy, I had to post quicker than I wanted to originally. Thank you all for the amazing comments! I don’t have a tagged thing up yet, so if you want to be tagged, please message me and I will add you. For now, I’ll just have to post and hope all of you see it. I will get a tagged list ready for Part 3!

Word count: 2348

Warnings: NONE (yet (-; muahaha)

PART 1

After school homework sessions were now me and Steve’s everyday routine. We would sit on the living room floor, eat whatever my uncle stocked up on, and help each other with our work. It was productive but also super fun. We would have breaks in between and talk about random stuff. Whether it was about school, life, anything, Steve was always up for conversation.

By Friday, his essay was ready to be turned in, and I was ready for the pop quiz we had.

The rest of my school days went well, except for the constant threat Billy would say something to me. On Wednesday, he asked me to go to the basketball game and watch him play but I said I had plans, which I did, technically, but I just wanted to avoid him. On Thursday, he stood outside my Physics class and walked me to my last period. He kept asking me when I was going to let him bring me to the movies. I told him when he turns into Tom Cruise and takes me to a movie premiere. He chuckled at my answer and told me I was “a piece of work”.

His laugh was kind of cute. His genuine laugh. I heard it once when I said something catty to him and he threw his head back. In that moment I thought I saw decency within Billy Hargrove. The feeling and realization faded when he told me I looked “hot” in my skirt as I walked into my classroom. Every time he said it, it sent a tingle up my spine. It wasn’t the adjective I was looking to be called and every time I heard his deep voice mutter it, I wanted to shrivel up into a ball and die.

Steve, on the other hand, called me “cute”. He said I was “unlike any other girl he’s hung out with” and that I made him laugh than other people in his life. He made me feel important and always complimented me, in a not-creepy-type-of-way. He smiled and laughed at my jokes, even when they were terrible. And when I sang in the car on the way home from school, he was always harmonizing with me jokingly.

We decided whatever was going on between us, needed to be taken slowly. I wanted nothing but to kiss him and hold him, and he made it pretty obvious he felt the same way, but we knew flying into things would end up making things awkward and weird. Taking it slow and being friends first was the best bet to make this thing last.

So for another week, he drove me home and we watched TV together. Sometimes we played wrestled and fought over shows we liked. He even started picking me up in the mornings, so Hop didn’t have to drop me and Jane off at school. He would bring me breakfast biscuits and we would talk about upcoming assignments in math and how we couldn’t stand Billy. As time went on, he started staying around longer. He would stay after school with me until 7, which was an hour before Hopper got home. He said he “didn’t have anything else to do” but I knew something else was going on. I could feel it as his demeanor changed when people were near us. Jane, people at school, whoever. He just shut down and got quiet. It was odd, but I decided not to question it.

He told me wanted to see some horror movie, which I gladly said we could go see together. He told me he’d hold my hand if things got too scary. I giggled and told him he could hide in my hair if things became too much for him. He didn’t laugh, just huffed and said he was fearless. We decided on Friday night and promised each other it was just a “friend date”, whatever that meant.

So when 8 rolled around and my uncle pulled up to the house, I was ready to present my case for a 9 o’clock movie with Steve Harrington. He walks in, huffing and puffing. He doesn’t notice my dressed up attire, as he headed to the fridge to grab a beer. He had one or two a night. I made sure he’d cut back, especially since Jane was around now.

“Uncle Jim, I got a question…”

“Does it involve me leaving the house?” He groans, sitting down on the couch next to Jane, who was reading a book she had for school.

“No, I’m just going out with Steve tonight and I was wondering if it was okay?” My voice started to go up in nervousness.

He chuckled, “You two dating, now? Do I have to scope him out?”

“Not dating, just hanging out.”

Jane looks up from her book, “No more homework here?”

Hopper furrows his eyebrows.

Shit.

I didn’t really tell him Steve was coming over every day. He always left before he came home, anyway. I knew he wouldn’t go for it and probably yell at me.

“You have him over without me here?” He asks, his voice guttural and demeaning. He sits forward more, his elbows on his knees.

“Uh… yeah. We’ve been doing homework here after school.” I respond, nervously. Please don’t be mad.

“And were you planning on telling me or we just going to start inviting guys over all the time? Yanno what,” His voice twists. I know he’s about to be sarcastic, “Hey Jane, why don’t you invite Mike over for a sleepover? Maybe he can even sleep in your bed!”

Jane’s face twists, “Sounds stupid.”

“And what aren’t we Jane?”

“Stupid.” She turns the page of her book, her face deep inside it, her curls the only thing visible.

Hopper looks over at me, his face steady. “Bingo.”

“It’s not like that! We honestly just do homework, and sometimes eat your cracker jack bu-”

“I knew it was going too quickly!” He yelled, sounding more angry about the cracker jack than he was about me having Steve over.

“I’m sorry, I’ll buy you more!”

“Y/N… I need you,” He stops to think and collect himself, “I need you to be honest with me okay? I just need communication. I know ever sin-”

“Don’t pull that with me,” I say, my throat getting tight. Don’t bring her up.

“Just tell me what’s going on and I won’t get mad, okay? You can go out tonight but,” He scans my outfit, “Put on pants.”

I roll my eyes, “Madonna doesn’t wear pants with mini dresses, Hop.”

“You’re not Madonna.”

I return to my room to change.  

-

“Have a good night. Have her home before midnight, Harrington.”

The door closes behind us as we get into Steve’s BMW. It’s a little chilly tonight, so I was grateful I changed when I was told to. I changed into some black jeans and a simple red top, putting my jean jacket over all of it. I also touched up my lipgloss and mascara, ensuring I was a little more done up than usual.

I buckle up and glance over at Steve. He huffed after turning on the car, placing both of his hands on the wheel.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just,” He stops, biting his lip, “I had to sneak out because my dad is mad at my Biology grade and we fought when I got home from school… it’s dumb don-“

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help with Biology?”

“Because then it would’ve taken up more time with you that i’d rather spend just listening to you talk about other stuff,” I watch him curl his lips, trying to figure out what to say next. His eyebrows raise, “I mean you could talk about cheeses and I’d listen to you for hours, but..”

I blush, placing my hands in my lap, “I really like mozzarella.”

He snickers, putting the car in reverse. “Tell me more?”

“I would be I’ll have to find a cheddar time.”

We both grow silent before laughing loudly, filling the car up with our awful cheese jokes. We switch the conversation, Steve bringing up how my uncle sure went easy on him. I told him he found out about him coming over, and he shrugged.

“We didn’t do anything, anyway.”

“Yeah, but he thinks we are,” I reply, running my hand through my curls.

Steve was quiet. He seemed even more off tonight. When he came in to get me and say hello, he wouldn’t even look at Jane. He just silently muttered a hello, and continued conversation with Hop. I suspected he was hiding something from me. Maybe it was me being wary of letting people in, maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, who knows.

“So how’s Jane doing in school?” He asks out of the blue, watching the road.

“Fine. She has problems with teachers because she’s kind of quiet.” I respond. Jane was a lot of things, but mostly to herself and silent. When I first met her less than two months ago, she wouldn’t even shake my hand. She either had something smart to say or nothing to say at all. She kept to herself, reading and watching TV. On the weekends, she got to go over to Mike’s house and hang out with her friends, but other than that she went to school and came home.

“She’s a really strong girl,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s trying to take the conversation elsewhere, but I’m not completely sure where he’s going with it. And it was a completely random statement. What are you hiding, Harrington?

“Yeah, her mom not telling my uncle about her and then watching her mother die? It’s awful. I think that’s why she’s quiet. She doesn’t really know how to take it all in. I’m just glad Hop stepped up to be a father again. I knew it was hard on him.” I say, watching Steve carefully to see if his expression changed. But it stayed steady and calculated. Like he was rehearsing the whole exchange in his head.

Steve cleared his throat, “Yeah, absolutely.”

I furrow my eyebrows, before returning my eyes to the road. “What are you thinking?”

“Huh?”

The question was not apart of his script. He was thrown off that’d I’d even ask it.

“What. Are. You. Thinking?”

He was silent for a moment, “How great you look in that jean jacket.”

I stare down at my outfit, shaking my head. “Not the answer I was going for, love.”

“What was the answer you were hoping for?” He asks, almost annoyed.

I don’t look over at him even though I know he’s glancing over at me, “Maybe how you wouldn’t even look at Jane when we were back at my place. And now you’re bringing her up in conversation. Maybe that.”

“I’m just curious?” He began to get defensive, sparking our first argument.

“Well, it just seems a little weird and off to me.”

“I don’t know why. Do you think I know something you don’t?”

“Yeah, actually I do.”

“Well, I don’t!”

I look at him, a fire in his eyes I’ve never seen before. His face scrunched his hands tightly around the steering wheel.

“Pull over.”

“What?” His voice cracks, nervous at my request.

“Pull over!”

He slams on his breaks, pulling off the main drag of town, almost driving straight into a ditch. I huff loudly, crossing my arms. We sit for what feels like hours, in complete silence.

“If you know something about her that I don’t, I need you to tell me,” I whisper, looking down at my lap, before looking over at him. He’s staring down at me, his mouth opens a little like he’s about to say something.

“There’s weird shit happening in Hawkins, that I don’t understand. I know she and her friends are involved, and that whatever we all thought was over is back. And it came back as soon as you showed up.”

His statement took me aback. My heart started racing, my mind wondering.

“What kind of weird shit?”

He leans back into his seat, “Things you’d only imagine to happen in movies.”

I almost want to laugh at how stupid he’s being, but when I break, smirking a little, his face stays the same. He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile, just a stern seriousness that almost scares me.

“And all this ‘weird shit’ began again when I showed up?” I mutter, trying not to piss him off. I keep my instinctual giggles to myself.

“Yeah… I know it sounds made up and stupid, but I am genuinely afraid of Jane. She can do stuff- I-I just don’t understand. I just…” He drifts off, “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why I started driving you home. Because I wanted to make sure nothing happened to you. I don’t need help with English, and I am not acting weird because of my dad, I’m acting weird because when we left, Jane wouldn’t stop staring at me and I felt like she was trying to tell me something.”

“She was staring at you? Maybe it’s just because you’re extremely attractive and she’s questioning her love for Mike.” I smirk, going to grab his face.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not fucking around, Y/N!”

His tone completely throws me off. I stop going towards him, retreating back into my corner.

“I wish I was. I wish this wasn’t happening again, but something is up. And I know you won’t understand this all from me.” Steve continued, his voice tamer.

“We are going to miss our movie.”

“That’s fine. I have a better idea.” He puts the car in drive, speeding off towards the outskirts of town.

“What are you going to murder me?” I ask, almost anticipating him to actually be an ax murderer who is completely delusion. This night couldn’t be any more of a disappointment, anyway.

“No, I’m going to bring you to someone who can explain it all, way better than me.”

[elsewhereuniversity]

To Be Favored (Part 1)

Sooo, this is really long, but ever since I saw the stuff about the Crows and their favor I HAD to write it. sorry if some of the EU lore doesn’t match up, I tried to cross reference things! (Also, I know cat-eyes isn’t some mystical information peddler but I sorta used her as such in this story.) Anyways, I hope you like!!

———-

For those new or still yet naive to Elsewhere University, you might describe the crows as, for lack of a better word, cute. To you fresh faces to campus, they are simple creatures, ebon-dark with wit as sharp as their shrills, who for some reason or another flock to EU in droves. You see them as companions to adore, to cherish. You will try to gain their favor with baubles and shiny bits, pieces of bacon thrown underneath their flocks, shiny gems left on windowsills. You think the crows of EU as mindless as others.

Know, from this point on, that you are wrong. Foolishly so. To continue believing them simple is not only stupid, but dangerous. The crows are mindless only in their machinations to achieve their desires, they care not for your feelings or beliefs, for your vindications and convictions. They care not for your adoration, your fear or your petty little baubles- they care about, most off all, themselves at the heart of all things.

Though, sometimes the crows grant boons to students that leave suitable things- offerings they find worthy enough to justify a favor. And Sometimes, the crows watch the people who insult them, whether you did so knowingly or not, with eyes that pierce the veil into Elsewhere. Often the only thing that’s left of those poor souls are the ignorant, mocking gifts they thought appropriate, or the last breaths of ill-timed insults.

The Not-so-smart students attempt to garner their favor and present to them simple gifts; many of which are near insults to their intelligence, which they thankfully ignore- most of the time.

 The Smart students approach the crows with a vague interest at most.

 The Smartest students ignore them completely.

But sometimes- and it doesn’t happen very often at all, for the crows are very, very, very fickle beings, but sometimes they find a particularly unlucky student that sparks their intrigue. Now, despite what it may sound, this is not a good thing. 

These students are perhaps the unluckiest of all, because no matter how smart you are, the crow’s Favor is not something you can escape.

To emphasize, Favor is not something you want. No one knows how they choose their Favored. Rumors lurk that you must be born at a specific point between the stroke of midnight and 12:01. Some say the darkness, the Elsewhere, taints some students before they even arrive in the womb, and the crows, friends of the darkness, flock to it. Others say that they like those with the shiniest of souls- what makes a soul shiny, only the crows will ever know. And they don’t divulge their secrets willingly. Not even to me.

Whatever the case, Favor is not something you try to gain. It is different from a boon or a gift in that it is all-encompassing and terrifying in it’s nature. It digs itself into your skin and transforms you from the depths of what you thought you always were. You become what they will you to be, and you will watch yourself do so unerringly. It will taint your mind and your bones, until you are Their’s. They will have you; every sorry, pathetic, wretched piece of your damned soul. You will not be happy with what you become. You will not want it. But you will Become. They will ensure it. 

You see, they are innately possessive, and what they want, they get. No matter how hard you try to escape. No matter how fast you run. No matter what help you enlist. The EU crows are Elsewhere weaved with blood and bone, animal instinct emboldened by intelligence and a drive that is something Else entirely.

The Not-so-smart students want to be Favored by the crows.

The Smart students know that the crows are dangerous.

The Smartest students fear them entirely.

This is a story of a girl who was one of the Smartest. She did everything she was supposed to. She made no mistakes. She did not fault. But still, from the time she stepped onto campus, the crows Favored her.

And because of this, I was doomed to lose the battle from the moment I started fighting it.

—————————————————————————–

I had done my due diligence.

I’ve never been the bragging sort, but I didn’t graduate with a Summa Cum Laude designation by mistake. I had started researching colleges and universities by sophomore year- I knew what I wanted; a big, prestigious name attached my diploma at some point. Something that I could take pride in. The other top 10 were all going to Stanford, Yale, Harvard even (a bit overrated if you had asked me) and those were nice but predictable, in the end. I wanted something great, but different. A diploma from a school not many had heard of- one people would inquire about, want to know more of. I wanted to be impressive. I wanted to stand out.

Looking back on it, maybe that was my first mistake.

Whatever the case, it was a few months away from graduation when I received the letter. I was sat atop my bed, sorting through my acceptance letters (I still hadn’t gotten one from Harvard, which was totally fine) when a particularly heavy one fell into my lap. It wasn’t….like the others. As silly as it sounded at the time, it…it seemed to sing. Nothing loud, but when the glossy paper of the envelope touched the skin of my leg something hummed in my bones, heavy and sure. It was dark blue, four corners folded in, and in the center was a seal of red wax. In bold, white letters, the envelope stated the words:

“CAUTI, CORDATI, AUSPICATI.”

Wary, wise and lucky, I had thought. How odd. AP Latin classes had finally come in handy (I hadn’t even really liked Latin, at some point after the third year most of the Latin students had just…kept going out of obligation.)

I let the other envelopes fall to the bed and ran my fingers over the wax. A hand stamped seal was not an extravagance many, if any universities, afforded their prospective students. I opened it slowly and with baited breath- something had chilled in my. I hadn’t heard anything other than the beat of my own heart for what seemed like an eternity. My fingers were dry and cold, and goosebumps prickled on my skin. When the seal was broken the envelope popped open in such a sudden motion that I gasped involuntarily. I took a moment to recollect myself, and then peered into the contents of the envelope.

Inside were three things. The first was a small woven pouch, an image of a flying crow printed on the front, along with the words Freely Given underneath. Inside the pouch was a ring, made of what seemed to be polished iron. It was heavy for a ring, and when I slipped it on it fit perfectly. I marveled at it for a moment, wondering at the meaning of the odd gift. My eyes fell to the second item: a small packet, the kind ketchup comes in at fast food restaurants. It was clear though, and the contents were clearly not ketchup. Instead, it looked like honey, and in small black letters was the phrase Better To Be Treated Than Tricked. I gave it a look and pushed it away slowly, better to not tastes things like that. The final item was a letter, which looked to be a folded piece of parchment paper. It couldn’t have been though- the font was clearly typed, and it had my name addressed at the top. After an initial scan, most of it was the usual collegiate drivel, but the beginning caught my eye:

Dearest Lucille Hernandez:

Here at Elsewhere University we take pride in the fact that on our campus, the Exceptional and Extraordinary have become Commonplace. We offer a various and often uncommon range of majors, with curricula that stretches our students to places they could have never imagined. From the Iron Sciences to Wordcraft, you’ll be sure to find a corner to slip into that suits you.

And because of your exceedingly astounding academic accomplishments, we want to offer you, with a strictly unsuspicious hand, a full scholarship for all four years of your college experience. This if freely given of course, provided you maintain a satisfactory academic standard…

You may be wondering why I would give you my name so freely. Isn’t it dangerous? Aren’t names one of the concrete things that hold power in this unbelievably shaky world? Yes, yes they do. And yes, names may be powerful, but they are never concrete. And you would be wise to never give yours to anyone. But, the crows have already had mine. They plucked it from my tongue without remorse, and then renamed me in mocking adoration. Lucille is nothing but a husk. But, back to the story.

As stated before, I did my due diligence.

The envelope had been so peculiar, the message so oddly capitalized and worded, that I stayed up until 3 AM researching the university. What I found didn’t disappoint. Elsewhere University was a relatively small but rather prestigious university that really did offer a wide range of majors- though “Iron Sciences” and “Wordcraft” weren’t listed anywhere on the website. There were notable distinguished alumni, and the pictures of the campus were beautiful. But of course, I looked into campus culture-it seemed fairly open and progressive. A good amount of gender and racial diversity too. But, in some odd threads on reddit, under the subreddit elsewhereweird I found some of the most curious things. People asking questions about things called corner witches, the best place to get a bit of silver nitrate, what brand of sweet cream to leave outside their dorm room. There was a particular one that stated:

“I askd for a favor from a girl w/ long white hair last wednesday- and in return she asked for a gift. I told her she could have anything she wanted, but she just smiled and disappeared before I could ask exactly what that was- now my girlfriend has been missing for a week, I’ve been hearing rustling coming from my closet just to find nothing there, and throughout the day I hear this weird song coming from the forests next to campus-  it’s beautiful and I wanna follow, but nobody else seems to hear it. It sounds like my girlfriend- she was a vocal performance major anyway. I think I’m gonna check it out in a few days. I’ll update you guys l8r.”

The post was from a few months ago. There wasn’t any update apparently, only a single comment underneath that said “RIP”. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I pushed it aside. Stupid girl, I was.

Apparently though, campus culture called for nicknames- to use your real name was taboo. Iron was worn on campus by nearly everyone, which explained the ring. Bake sales were popular too, the culinary groups had what they called “Protection Fests” where they sold sweets at a cheap price. Protection from what, I couldn’t find. 

But, the crows were everywhere. On the insignia, pictures of them on the website, they were featured in a lot of discussions and comments, and even addressed by the Dean as “beautiful but cautious creatures of the Elsewhere campus.” They were smart, apparently, but that was no surprise. Crows were pretty intelligent creatures, it made sense.

That night, somewhere inside I had already made my decision. I took a week to mull it over, deciding on a Civil Engineering major, an “Iron Science” I supposed. I told my parents- and they were happy enough that it was a full ride, and that I was going to university in the first place, so they were ecstatic.

The night I spoke with a representative from the university and accepted the offer, sleep came easier than it ever had. And as I fell asleep, an official fledgling student of Elsewhere University, the only thing I could think of was printed picture of the crow on the pouch, and the words Better To Be Treated Than Tricked.

[Oliver Scales]

[killcapitalizm]

the idea of you; peter parker

summary: reader is overly-dramatic about being in love with peter parker and someone has to do something about it.

word count: 3,700 yo 

warnings: the overuse of the name peter parker, an unnecessarily long fic, terrible writing, some swearing, and the fact that i didn’t bother editing this.

a/n: inspired by the song idea of you by mxmtoon! i wrote half of this at midnight and the other half is just me trying to come up with a decent ending. the last part is so rushed i'm sorry. lmk if i need to fix anything or smth. i don’t even know how to write peter parker. this is the first thing i’ve written in a year.

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You stared at the back of Peter Parker’s head as you probably missed really important information about your next biology project. Being in love is so uncomfortable.

Or, at least you think it's love. Maybe? It's been a few weeks and you still don't know.

Peter Parker is a pretty close friend of yours. His heart is gold and you're dirt poor. You don't know why you're considering the idea of loving someone as rare and precious as Peter Parker, you clearly aren't anyone special so just the idea of loving him is a dangerous thing to touch.

But the idea is so appealing that you can't help but lay your hands all over it and you even dare to dream of it. You might be completely wrong about what it's like to love Peter Parker (specifically when he loves you back) but the idea you've made is too golden to not fall in love with. And the real-life Peter Parker? He's just as lovely as your daydreams of him. Far less romantic, though. You've been stuck on the boy for so long now that you can't distinguish whether you're in love with him or the idea of him. It's hard to tell.

A sharp ring of the school bell rips you from your brain and your eyes from Peter Parker’s curly hair. He turns around in his seat and faces you. Smiles at you.

“We’re still going to meet at your place, right?” He shoves his textbook into his bag as he looks up at you. You, him, and Ned were going to have a movie marathon at your house and the boys were going to sleepover since your parents were out for a few days.

You smile back at him. You just smile at him. “Definitely.”

You wish you tried to talk to him more because he immediately swings his backpack on and stands up. “Okay, see ya’ there,” and he runs from the classroom and off to work. Or half-work? I wonder what an internship is. I wonder how I even got into high school, god, I’m stupid-

You sweep your notebook into your bag and head out of the classroom, feeling incredibly immature for wasting and entire class period on your little love-crisis. You also feel immature for telling yourself that it’s Peter Parker, therefore it’s not wasting. With your internal struggle clear on your face, you weave your way towards the school’s exit. Michelle would probably draw you if you were in the detention room.

You’re not in love with Peter Parker, probably.

You and Ned had already managed to finish watching Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith and Star Wars: A New Hope before Peter Parker showed up. Four hours late was a new record, and it was much more disappointing when you both remembered that it wasn’t you guys that set the arrival time to 7:30. Even with 5 hours to do whatever he does every day at his internship, he still managed to show up four hours late. When you finally heard the doorbell at 11:45, Ned had to run to the door before you to make sure you didn’t lock Peter Parker out.

“Four hours, Parker.” You did your best to show you weren't amused by his tardiness. “Are you trying to set a world record?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He peeled off his shoes. “Mr. Stark had to keep me for a while longer, then I lost track of time and-“

“What in the fuck does he need to keep you for? You’re there daily and he’s a billionaire that can easily hire someone else for at least one night.” You stopped yourself from saying anything more. You sounded hurt enough already. You doubted every sweet thing you’ve thought of him. Maybe he was untrustworthy all along. Or maybe he doesn’t like you and Ned anymore.

Peter Parker made eye contact with you and in that moment you realized his eyes were more of a nut-brown than an amber brown, but Ned intervened before anyone could reply. “Guys, c’mon- I brought over the blu-ray for The Force Awakens. Let’s watch it before we get too tired.”

So you told yourself that Peter Parker was lucky, not because you love him but because he’s your friend. It’s not love if he doesn’t try for you anymore. He doesn’t try for Ned, either. Well, maybe he tried but you’re too upset and hurt to think of anything except blaming Peter Parker and telling yourself that you never loved him in the first place.

You let yourself keep the idea of loving him, though. You’d trash it in the morning because it’s meaningless. You still liked to compare his eyes to amber because it sounds better than nuts or chocolate. When you went to sleep with the boys that night, you dreamt of earlier when you said that Rey was cute and Peter Parker said you’re cuter and blushed.

You forgot to forget about the idea of loving Peter Parker. It’s been a week and you invited just him over to work on a project for biology that you desperately needed his help on because you were back to daydreaming about being in love with him during that class.

And now you’re telling yourself that this moment confirms you’re not in love with Peter Parker because it isn’t love when you’re the only one waiting. You’re more hurt than you know when an hour and a half past 5:30 brings Peter Parker to your door. You didn’t think he’d hear you when you muttered “If you think I’m so boring, just say so.” But he did hear you and now you’re in love with the real Peter Parker that told you that you aren’t boring, that he loves spending time with you, that he trusts you, that you mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

You’re also in love with the real Peter Parker that didn’t say I love you (too). You can’t live for very long with just the kiss on your head that he gave you when he made you laugh so hard that you accidentally slammed your head against the wall.

Another week and you’re trying not to love Peter Parker anymore because you know that you’ll be crushed when you realize there’s no chance of him ever saying I love you (too). So you’re going back to fantasies and empty dreams, you’re going back to that one dream you had of him spinning you around your room to the tune of a The 1975 song that you can’t remember now on a loud city evening. There’s a lot to come back to when you’re just in love with the idea of him. When you’re in love with the real Peter Parker, there’s not much to hold on to. It’s a lot more exciting when you do find something to hold on to, like yesterday when he was bored in World History during the movie your teacher played and Peter Parker instead opted to doodle all over your left hand in his favorite blue sharpie (you haven’t tried to wash it all off yet).

And now, Saturday. You have today to yourself and you’re using it to re-watch season four of The Office and text Ned about how great Star Wars: The Last Jedi is going to be, but mostly you’re using it to think about Peter Parker.

No, you tell yourself, I’m only thinking about the idea of him. You go over a little spider doodle with your own blue sharpie, making sure to use the same shade of blue so you don’t completely ruin the drawings on your hand. You try not to remember how his hand felt holding yours and instead you think of an imaginary scenario where Peter Parker writes “I love you too” on your hand instead of “Spider-man!!!”.

Half-distracted, you answer Ned’s text and slyly add btw wheres peter? he hasn't answered me today to the end. You sent Peter Parker a text this morning but there’s been no reply so far.

When Ned reads the text, he doesn’t type an answer. Instead, he tries to call you on FaceTime. You decline it and text him hoe i look gross. He answers, bitch me too, now pick up. Ned calls you again and you accept it.

You’re greeted with the pixellated sight of Peter Parker with a Wii remote in his hand, dancing violently with Katy Perry’s California Gurls playing. Ned’s amused voice comes, “He didn’t charge his phone overnight so it died this morning. He came over to my place and has played this all day.”

You let out a loud laugh. “I hate this because he’s good at it!”

You hear a faint “thanks!” from Peter Parker and you can’t help but think about how he’s actually a pretty good dancer and that’s adorable. It’s getting to be progressively more difficult to be in love with only the idea of him. You have to remind yourself that there’s a near-zero percent chance that he’d ever feel the same way.

“Y/N, dude, you look so crushed right now,” says Ned, and Peter Parker momentarily stops dancing and looks over to Ned with a concerned expression.

“I’m realizing that I’ll never look as hot as Peter when I’m playing Just Dance.” You force a laugh and it sounds real. Peter Parker resumes his dancing with a red face.

“Gross; if you were here, you’d see how sweaty he is.”

“Not many people look hot even when sweating.”

“Ew, I’m hanging up if you call that smelly piece of garbage hot again.”

You are an absolute child. Only a child would worry so much for so long over love. You still don’t know what you’re in love with: your imagination or the reality. You also don’t know why you keep inviting Peter Parker over while you’re having your mid-life crisis.

He sits next to you on your couch as the two of you watch Star Trek. You’re really not watching it, instead you look at the TV as you bury yourself in thought. Only one thing keeps you grounded in reality, and it’s Peter Parker’s arm around you. That’s romantic, right?

You had only recently realized you you were being incredibly immature by only worrying where to direct your love and you had spent no time thinking about any possibility of Peter Parker loving you back. You try not to think about how sure you are that he doesn’t and instead try to give yourself a reason that he does. In case you slip up one day and admit your feelings, he won’t be completely blown away and you’d have something to defend yourself with.

There are a few things you can think of. You don’t know if they’re friendly things or romantic things, but you assume it’s romantic. He’s called you cute, and he’s also called you pretty. He’s kissed your head, and a month ago he kissed your forehead. Both instances were consensual on both ends. He blushes when you compliment him. He’s let you cuddle with him twice. Right now, he has his arm around your shoulders. The only thing that helps you tell if these things could be romantic is the faint memory of a romance novel you read when you were twelve years old.

You scream when you suddenly feel Peter Parker blow in your ear. You snap out of your thoughts and face him. “What was that for?”

“You weren’t answering me!” He defends, but lets you lightly punch his chest.

“Do you need something?” You lean back into the couch and remember his arm is still there, so you pretend to shift in your seat and lean forward.

“I was going to ask you if I could sleepover but if you’re too busy staring at the wall, then never mind.”

“Hey! Just because I’m spaced out, doesn’t mean I don’t want you here,” you say. “I’d love for you to stay overnight. But what about your internship? You’ve been with me all afternoon, are you sure Mr. Stark doesn’t need you?”

“I, uh, took care of my work this morning. That should be enough for at least today, right?” He looks at you as if you knew anything about what he does at the Stark Internship.

“How should I know? I say yes, you’re there every day and you work long hours. He should start paying you three times as much.” You get up from the couch and stretch. “Do you need to grab anything from home?”

“Yeah,” says he. “I’ll be back in ten?”

“Don’t sneak off to Mr. Stark, okay?”

He rolls his eyes at you, but he’s smiling. “Fine.”

And Peter Parker leaves you with the promise of his return in ten minutes. You turn off the Star Trek movie and decide to just leave the TV on a news channel so that you have some background noise. Wandering into the kitchen, you consider if he’d mind leftover spaghetti or if you should just order a pizza. You don’t have a lot of money left but you don’t plan on buying anything big anytime soon so a pizza should be good.

You pick up your phone after a while and call to order a pizza (one large, half pepperoni, half plain cheese, extra sauce) and sit down on the couch. Bored, you look over at the TV and find a burning building with the headline “Spider-man Saves Family from Fire” rolling along the bottom. Hanging up the phone- the pizza would arrive in twenty minutes- you drag your attention over to the news story. Across the screen swings the red and blue spier-themed hero, lowering a small child to the ground from the seventh story of an apartment. Firetrucks are all around and sirens are heard behind the voice of the reporter. Peter Parker was a fan of the hero, which made you take a liking to the person people call Spider-man. You liked that he wasn’t someone like Tony Stark, who you only saw in his Iron Man suit when he was doing something extremely important. Spider-man was like your city’s personal little hero. He took care of the city instead of his ego.

When commercials took over the TV, you turned away and looked at your phone. 9:15. The pizza would be getting cold soon. Peter Parker was late again. Only twenty minutes late so far, but you already knew he’d be at least half an hour late. You sank back into the couch, slouching down and propping your leg up to keep you from sliding right off.

Peter Parker was thirty-three minutes late.

You swing open the door, revealing him in his sleepwear and nothing in his hands but his phone. You glared at him tiredly.

“Ten minutes, huh? You shouldn’t have gotten me so excited.” You cross your arms, then uncrossed them when you started to smell something. “Peter, why do you smell like burning garbage?”

He fiddled with his phone. “Oh, well, um…”


“You weren’t at that big fire, were you?” You remembered the news story and just sputtered out something. “The one with Spider-man? I know you’re secretly in love with him but don’t go near a big fire just to see him-“


“No!” He raised his voice a little, then cleared his throat. “No, I’m not in love with him, I’m just- I just-“

“Ugh,” you stepped out of the doorway to let him in. “You should just take a shower before you stink up the entire building. Next time if you plan on being late, just say you need an hour.”

Peter Parker trudges in and heads straight for your bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him. You sigh and fall back onto the couch.

Peter Parker. He was hard to be in love with. You bet that if you had fallen in love with him last year, it would have been much easier. Ever since his trip to Berlin and this Stark Internship thing, it’s been hard to even be friends with him. You may not know anything about being in love with him, but you know a lot about being his friend and you wouldn’t trade that in for anything. You’re starting to suspect that you really do want to be in love with him, though, and you don’t like it. It’s been making your life way harder than it needs to be. Loving someone that almost never has time for you, obviously keeps secrets from you, and almost never keeps promises isn’t very fun. But you suppose that the daydreams about him was enough to make you love the real him. And maybe the little things that you decided earlier were romantic advances helped too. Or maybe Peter Parker really does just have a heart of gold and you’re desperate to keep him by your side. Thinking about this as a whole is making you doubt what little confirmations you’ve made, now you’re back to the stupid him-versus-the-idea-of-him thing.

Who do you love, Y/N? Do you love Peter Parker or do you love your fantasy of Peter Parker? You need to decide now or it’s going to keep you up at night for another week. You haven’t been sleeping much. If you stayed in your little pretend world, it would be easier to interact with the real Peter Parker, but if you love the real him then you wouldn’t feel as creepy, plus you’d maybe have a chance at being with him.

No, I wouldn’t. He’d never dare feel that way about me. You lean your head back and stare at the ceiling, switching back and forth from thinking about how stupid you feel to thinking about Peter Parker. Eventually you stopped thinking about Peter Parker for a while and just thought about how you could be doing something productive with your life right now but instead you spend your time worrying about a boy in the dumbest way possible. Not that love wasn’t something to worry about, but maybe you could have used the time that you wasted on your own dilemma to study or even just think about something more important. Maybe think about why Peter Parker has been being distant. Or maybe even think about college, anything but your stupid problem with love-

You scream when Peter Parker slams the door open loudly, jumping out of your seat and falling to the floor in panic. He slowly shuts the door being him with a guilty look on his face.

“Uh… sorry.” He placed his phone on the couch and sat next to you on the ground.

You shoved him lightly. “My gosh, I don’t care what you do to your house, but try not to break my doors.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just in a good mood and I, I guess I got excited.” He waved his hands around. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged and got up, sitting back down on the couch. “Well, now that you’re here and you don’t smell gross anymore, I have a movie that I want to watch and therefore you need to watch it, too. I hope you didn’t eat yet because I ordered pizza for us.”

You tried not to look at Peter Parker as he slept because that would be incredibly creepy of you. He really is adorable, though.

Sighing, you turn over in your bed. Peter Parker is an amazing friend, a hard worker, a pure soul, and you might as well accept that you’re in love with him.

“Uh, Y/N?”

You scream again, shooting up in your bed. Your head snaps over to Peter Parker. “You fucker, I thought you were asleep!”

“Is it true?” He asks. You blink very slowly at him.

“Is what true?” Then your heart drops. “Oh my god. Did I say that out loud?”

“Please tell me if it’s true.” He sits up in the sleeping bag you gave him, nut brown eyes staring up at you. You’ve gotten used to saying nut brown instead of amber. The moonlight coming through your window makes him look especially soft and childish.

It feels like your heart is seizing and beating way too fast at the same time. “You- I, why do I need to say it? I mean, you, you heard- if I thought you were asleep, then why would I lie out loud?”

Peter Parker fucking gets up and sits next to you on your bed. You slide away, but he follows you. He never once breaks eye contact, an impressive feat considering the situation.

“Y/N.” He’s too close to you. You don’t want to breathe. “Tell me, please.”

Well, Y/N, too damn late to go back now. Your brain and heart are screaming bloody murder as you finally give him his answer, “Yes. It’s- It’s true.”

Peter Parker gives you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. You’ve only seen him this happy when he told you he got to meet Tony Stark.

“Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asks excitedly. You blush and start to sputter.

“Wait, no- no! I don’t mean no, but- you, um, what?” You try to correct yourself before he speaks again. “You… You didn’t say it back!”

Oh my god, Y/N, stop losing your shit is all you can hear in your head but Peter Parker grins even wider. He leans in fast and presses his lips to yours. It’s weird and exhilarating, your chins bump together and you both awkwardly try to hold hands, lips fumbling just as much as your fingers were. When he pulls back, he looks into your eyes with emotions so intense you wanted to turn away in disbelief. Again, he grins, unable to hide his joy. Slowly, your brain quiets down and lets you enjoy this moment, and you’re glad that it does because the next think Peter Parker says is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life and then more.

“I love you too.”

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 14: Explanations pt. 2

As before, because of tumblr’s interface, the link to this chapter on AO3 is in the source link of this post. <3

TRIGGER WARNING, PLEASE READ: I want you guys to be safe and comfortable reading this fic, so please, please be aware this chapter contains mentions of the follow: mental, emotional, and physical abuse, sexual coercion, non-consensual sexual acts (brief mentions of), gas lighting and stalking. Please take care of yourselves while reading this chapter. If any of the things mentioned are triggering or upsetting, or you find yourself getting overwhelmed, please, please take care of yourself first. Your mental well being is far more important. 

December 22nd, early morning

--

When Cullen woke with the softness of a mattress beneath him, his first thought was he was home in Denerim, in his own apartment and in his own bed. Without opening his eyes, he stretched his arm out over in the direction of his bedside table looking for his phone to check the time. When he continued to press down on soft covers, he groaned and opened his eyes, peering blearily into the low-lit room.

In an instant, he remembered where he was. He jerked up quickly, dislodging a weight from on top of his left arm. Nevena stirred beside him giving a soft moan of protest at being disturbed. Cullen held his breath, waiting for her to settle and go back to sleep. She did not stir again and he gave a small sigh of relief, willing the slight sense of panic he felt to disappear. Last thing he needed was an awkward conversation pertaining to where his hand was – draped over her hip, completely innocent.

Despite the alertness he now felt, he paused a moment and watched her sleep. He noticed the slow rise and fall of her arm over her chest and listened to the steadiness of her breathing. A smile came to his lips, unbidden.

The last time he had slept with anyone was several years ago and he had forgotten how good this part was and how much he enjoyed it. Waking up with someone and the quiet calm that came with it. The contentment and warmth gained from realising you were trusted so much by someone, that they were willing to let you be with them at their most vulnerable. A section of hair lay over half of Nevena's face as she moved and rolled from her back onto her side. Cullen considered pushing it away, but the gesture would be too intimate and familiar. He thought better of it and instead reached into his back pocket where he could feel his phone buzzing intermittently.

Cullen winced when he tapped a button for the phone to come to life. He was sure sleeping on it was probably not the best way to treat such a delicate piece of equipment and wouldn't be surprised if it was broken. It flashed to life. Screen intact, battery a little low, but otherwise in the same condition as before.

On checking the time - nine minutes past midnight - he also saw in the last few hours he received no less than six missed calls and a handful of voicemails and messages, all of which were from the number he now recognised as Roselyn’s. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, just to wait until Nevena was resting and then he planned to call Roselyn back. That clearly backfired and now he wasn't sure if it would be considered too late to call her and let her know everything was fine.

As he considered it - the etiquette of late night calls to near strangers was not exactly something he was knowledgeable about - his stomach growled loudly. Cullen grimaced, realising how hungry he actually was. The last meal he had was around mid-morning the previous day. Skipping meals wasn't that unusual for him, but his body often complained when he did. He also wasn't sure when Nevena had last eaten. If she woke soon he could only assume she might be a little hungry.

Quelling his hunger his primary objective, Cullen gingerly climbed off the bed, pausing to smooth out the duvet where he had slept. He tip-toed around the bed to the door, holding his breath and wincing each time he put a foot down on the ground in case it woke Nevena. He wasn't sure if she was a light or heavy sleeper, and didn't want to find out as he was sneaking out of the bedroom. Anything to avoid uncomfortable or awkward conversations.

Once the door was securely closed behind him Cullen released his breath. He went to the kitchen, putting his phone to one side, and examined the food in the fridge. He could whip up something simple with what they had, and would make extra in case Nevena woke up. After preparing some eggs and finding the utensils he would need, Cullen returned his attention to his phone and the messages while waiting for the oven to heat up.

He checked the messages. Unknown number: Any news? It's Roselyn. [18:31]

Seriously? Is she okay? I haven't had another message. I'm worried. Roselyn (again). [19:02]

Text me back, let me know she's okay. Still Roselyn. [19:40]

HELLO?! [20:00]

Don't make me drive up there. [20:13]

You could at least pick up the phone. [21:21]

I'm going to bed. Just text me when you get these messages. If I haven't heard from you or Nev by tomorrow, I'm driving to Haven and bringing her home myself. I'm not joking. [23:25]

Cullen deleted all but one message as he read them and erased the missed calls from his notification bar also making a mental note to delete the voicemails the next day. He leaned on the kitchen counter as he began to type out a reply.

Hey, sorry for not replying or picking up the phone. Nevena is safe, we're back at the cabin. She's okay. A little shaky, I think. Couldn't get much out of her. She wanted to lay down when we got back and we fell asleep. She's fine though. I'll ask her to call you tomorrow. - Cullen

He sent the message and turned his attention back to cooking. Thirty seconds later, his phone began to buzz insistently on the counter. He grabbed it and put it to his ear, "Hi, Roselyn."

"What do you mean you fell asleep too? With her?"

"No," Cullen sighed. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. "No, nothing like that. She was drained when we got back and wanted to sleep, so I let her. I was tired, so I slept too. Separately." He hoped he sounded convincing. "Didn't you say you were going to bed half an hour ago?"

"I'm in bed," Roselyn replied. "And my husband is - Alistair, stop it - is trying to take my phone away - Alistair, I swear! No, stop it - Give me my -"

"This is Roselyn's husband," a sleepy male voice croaked through the receiver. "She's going to bed now. Tell Nevena to call her when she's up to it. That'd be great, thanks."

Before Cullen could reply, the call cut off and he stared at his phone, bemused. He wondered for a moment if he interrupted something, but quickly rid that thought from his mind, deciding he didn't want to know. After putting his phone onto charge he returned to the kitchen to continue cooking. With the oven now heated, he slid a tray of bacon rashers inside and set the timer for ten minutes. Bacon and scrambled eggs - breakfast food was good no matter what time it was. And it was bound to be breakfast time somewhere in the world.

He cooked in relative silence, broken only by his own occasional hum and cleaned up as he went. While waiting for the timer he tidied the living area, dimming the main light and turning on a couple of lamps to make things less harsh. He wondered if Ineria was sleeping soundly after putting Nevena in such a state. If she told anyone about how her day with Nevena unravelled. Did anyone even ask her why she left with Nevena and came back alone? Would any of Nevena's family even care?

Cullen was discovering a new appreciation for his own family after being around one like Nevena's. His siblings bothered him sometimes, and as children they had bickered a lot, but they were good people. He loved them intensely, and they loved him. He owed them more than he could possibly repay and knew that if any of them ever needed him, he would drop whatever he was doing in an instant. And the same could be said of them. One value their parents instilled in them all was how important family was, and it was a value Cullen tried to uphold. Being around Nevena and her family, he was realising that perhaps not everyone believed that or felt the same way.

He was putting serious consideration into offering to take Nevena back to Denerim again following this most recent upset, when he heard the bedroom door open. He stopped what he was doing, eyes snapping up to Nevena walking out into the main living area. She wore her grey hoodie over her pyjama top and had pulled her hair back into an unruly ponytail. Glasses on, she looked sleepy, as though she was still in the process of waking up. Her face and eyes had lost the redness of earlier, and she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve as she approached.

"Hey," Cullen greeted her, keeping his voice low. He put the spoon he was using to stir to one side and wiped his hands on a dish towel before coming around to where Nevena was standing. "How're you feeling?" Instinctively his hand went to the back of his neck. Stupid question to ask.

"M'okay." Nevena smiled wearily. "You're cooking?"

"Are you hungry?" She didn't want to go into any detail, Cullen wouldn't ask. "There's enough for the both of us."

"Sure. I could eat, I guess." She stuffed her hands into the pouch on her hoodie. "Do you need any help?"

"No, nearly done." Cullen returned to the kitchen. "Take a seat."

Cullen dished up two plates and they sat in uneasy silence. Nevena picked at her food, eating little and spending more time staring at it than anything else. Cullen didn't take it personally - he could only imagine what was rolling around in her head. That she managed a few mouthfuls was better than nothing. There were questions piling up in his head that he wanted to ask. Questions that he wasn't sure were good ones, or even the right ones to ask. But then, what were the right questions to ask in this situation? Were there any questions he could ask that wouldn't seem insensitive or as though he was prying into her life?

He kept his mouth shut on personal matters, choosing to stick to more mundane topics of conversation. There were brief moments of awkward small talk, interspersed with longer periods of silence and the clink of metal on ceramic. When Nevena pushed her plate away, Cullen took it and went to the sink with both. If he tidied and made a show of being tired, maybe they would both go to bed and things would be less uncomfortable in the morning. That was the hope at least.

TRIGGER WARNING, PLEASE READ: I want you guys to be safe and comfortable reading this fic, so please, please be aware this chapter contains mentions of the follow: mental, emotional, and physical abuse, sexual coercion, non-consensual sexual acts (brief mentions of), gas lighting and stalking. Please take care of yourselves while reading this chapter. If any of the things mentioned are triggering or upsetting, or you find yourself getting overwhelmed, please, please take care of yourself first. Your mental well being is far more important.

Nevena went from the dining room table to sit on the sofa. As she sank down on the cushions, Cullen saw her pull her knees up into her chest. Whatever passed between Nevena and Ineria earlier seemed to have had a profound effect. This was a new side to Nevena, a new subdued and quiet side that Cullen wasn't sure he liked. It was weird and made him feel uneasy.

"Were you on the phone earlier?" Nevena asked as Cullen washed up.

"Yeah." Cullen put the clean plates to one side. "You friend Roselyn called me after I texted to let her know you were okay. She wants you to call her in the morning."

"Okay."

"If you're feeling up to it," added Cullen. He dried his hands on a clean dish towel. "She was threatening to drive up here."

"Sounds like Roselyn," sighed Nevena. While he couldn't see her face, Cullen felt like there was more she wanted to say. His mind was blank of words and platitudes he could give that might make her feel better anyway, so he waited, busying his hands with putting cutlery and crockery away. "Hey, uhm..."

Cullen turned his attention to her. "Hm?"

"Come here for a minute." Nevena indicated to the couch. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Cullen went and perched at one end. Nevena watched him sit. Eyes down cast she stared at her hands, winding her fingers around each other. "Do... Do you want to know why I kind of disappeared from my family for three years?"

"I thought it had something to do with your ex," Cullen said, slowly. He relaxed his position, leaning his elbow on the back of the sofa and his head against his fist. "That's the impression I got."

"It does. In part." Nevena lifted her gaze to him. "There's more to it. I feel like you deserve to know. Given... everything. That maybe it will..." She trailed and pushed her face into her hands. "Or not. It could be stupid."

Reaching over, Cullen gently wrapped his fingers around hers and guided her hands down from her face. "Tell me. Only if you want to."

"I want to." She stared at him, face drawn and tired, but a quiet determination set in her expression. Her brows furrowed, she exhaled deeply and nodded once. "Just... try not to see me as a terrible person afterwards, okay?"

"Okay." Releasing her, Cullen leaned back against the sofa and waited.

Nevena leaned her head back.

Before coming out of the bedroom all her thoughts were organized and intact. Now she was sitting with Cullen, hard truths on the tip of her tongue and waiting to be divulged, and she didn't know where to begin. There was so much to say and she worried what Cullen might think when he knew the facts. She didn't want him to hate her, or to see her as a terrible person in the way she viewed herself, and maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would be like Roselyn and his opinion wouldn't change.  Who knew? She wouldn't until she said something.

"So..." Nevena began. Her voice was quiet and she kept her eyes mostly on her hands in her lap. "My dad is a pack rat. He keeps everything. Receipts that are decades old, shopping lists, everything. As you can imagine that means he has a lot of filing cabinets and stuff." She pushed her fingers back through her hair pulling it from the messy ponytail it was in. "Around October three years ago, he and my mum were getting ready to move. The house they lived in, the house I grew up in, was too big for them as they aged. My mum had a hip operation, and they were moving somewhere smaller with no stairs. It was autumn break, so I went to help my dad go through all the papers he had."

Cullen shifted. "Your sisters?"

"Busy," shrugged Nevena. "Kids. Their own lives. And I didn't mind going to help. Despite appearances, my dad and I get on. We... were close. Anyway, most of my dad's files were in the attic. He and I were up there going through things. I found one cabinet were each draw was labelled with our names. One for Ineria, one for Clotilde, one for Arienne and one... for me." She began to rub the skin on the back of one hand, dull scratches creating faint reddish reels. "My sister's drawers contained old school reports, school photos, leaflets from open days, birthday cards they made for our parents when they were young. Sentimental stuff. Dad had to go downstairs to empty the shredder bin; I wanted to see what my parents kept from my childhood."

Pausing, she took a deep breath. Her chest was tight and it hurt to breathe so hard, but the sensation of air filling her lungs and being expelled gave her a moment to focus and centre herself. A moment she needed.

"My drawer had some stuff, reports, a few other things... nothing on the scale of my sisters’. But... one thing stuck out the most. At the far back of the draw was one file. It didn't have anything written on it, but opening it I came across adoption papers. A lot of them." She pursed her lips, still staring at her hands to avoid looking at Cullen. "I was adopted when I was a baby. There were no details about who my parents were or… anything, really so I think it was a closed adoption from what I've researched online. All I found out was that I was adopted when I was eight months and my birthday is May 21st." Nevena chuckled a little and began to twist a segment of hair dangling by her face. "Suddenly a lot of things made sense to me, like the fact there were no photographs of me before I was one-year-old, and that my mum and sisters were so... cold towards me growing up. I wasn't considered part of their family, not really, and no one ever told me."

Cullen moved a little closer to her, quickly pushing a hand through his hair as he listened intently.

Nevena curled her legs underneath her. "I was… confused and angry. I never told my parents or my sisters that I found out. I probably should have, but I didn't know how. So, at the time, running away so I could get my head straight seemed the better option than confronting it. I made my excuses to my dad and went home. At the time, I was dating Rick and over the four years of our relationship he had... whittled down what confidence and self-esteem I had until it was practically non-existent. His controlling nature put blockades between me and all the friends I had before him, including Roselyn. He was the only person I felt like I could trust because he orchestrated it that way.

"Stupid, really. I told him what I'd discovered and his response basically boiled down to: 'I don't care. It doesn't matter to me, it shouldn't matter to you. Let it go.' Every time I brought it up he would get angry with me for dwelling on the past, so I stopped. I bottled it up. Christmas came, we spent two days with everyone at my parents’ house before they moved. I'd spent three months keeping everything in check and tightly controlled. Every minute I spent with my family that year, I was fighting not to scream or burst into tears." She smiled wryly across at Cullen. "Perfect time for a proposal, right?"

"Rick... proposed to you then?" asked Cullen.

"He'd asked before; made hints and suggestions. I always said I wasn't ready or that I didn't want to ever get married. The truth is, I didn't want to marry him." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'd tried to end things with him so many times before, but always ended up backed into a corner feeling guilty for hurting his feelings. He used the same backing-me-into-a-corner tactic that Christmas. He knew by proposing to me in front of my whole family I wouldn't say no. I wouldn't do it because I wouldn't want to deal with their criticism. It was the perfect opportunity." Nevena's hands returned to her lap, the rubbing and light scratching resumed. Cullen reached across and took both her hands without a word. "Rick asked me... I said yes because everyone was watching, staring... I regretted it a moment later and I think... I think that was my breaking point. We didn't live together, mercifully. When we got back to Denerim he tried to come in to my flat. I said no. I gave him the ring back, said I couldn't marry him. That I didn't want to be with him, and I closed the door in his face."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Nevena nodded slowly. She realised she was staring at a pattern on a cushion on the couch, blinked hard and sighed. "I hoped that would be it." She met Cullen's gaze, her lips curling into a small smile. "Stupid and fucking naïve of me."

Cullen shifted, moving a little closer on the couch so he was no longer leaning against one arm of it. He still kept a gentle hold of Nevena's hands and she noticed how nice his hands were. Distinctly bigger than her own, his skin had a rough texture, warm, but there was no real grip in his hold. She could pull her hands away and he would allow her to.

"So, what happened with Rick?"

"Let me give you some context about Rick," Nevena said. She pushed her glasses on top of her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "He'd always been possessive and controlling, since the day we met. Our first date he ordered for me, food, drinks, everything. When we were together, he would get so jealous of everything I did. If I went out with friends, he would text and call obsessively, demanding to know where I was, and who I was with, and when I would be home. We weren't even living together. He would turn up at places I was spending time with friends and interject himself into my social circle. Sometimes he would act… weird, like, just do little things that only I noticed, and when I would confront him, he would say I was imagining it. That I was overreacting to him being friendly and wanting to get to know my friends." She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. "On the rare occasions he admitted wrong-doing his go to apology was along the lines of: 'I just don't like you doing anything without me. I care about you too much. Thinking about you with other people makes me crazy. Just don't do it, and we'll be fine.'"

"Are you serious?" Cullen's voice held an element of disbelief. "That was an apology?" he scoffed.

"Oh yeah," Nevena nodded, "and as time drew on, his 'apologies' became non-existent. He berated me until I was a shell of the person I was when I met him. Eventually he came up with a strategy to win every time we argued - which was a couple of times a week at least. Only used it when he was in the wrong though. If I was in the wrong it was something he would exalt in, crowing about it like it was some victory to lord over me."

"And this strategy was...?"

"Say and do nothing," Nevena smirked. "He was asthmatic and he used it to get his way. Arguments would usually start because he was in the wrong and refused to admit it. I'm not saying I was perfect, but I at least admit when I wrong - he would remind me of it all the time, of course, but that's beside the point. When he was wrong, and I would try to get him to admit it, he would do this... this thing. At first he would just sit, put his fingertips together, like this," she demonstrated, "and stare into the middle distance. He wouldn't move, would hardly blink. At first it would creep me out so much that I would crumble immediately and take the blame myself. Sometimes I would let it go on for a long time, the silence just growing and growing. It's why I sometimes talk endlessly to fill silence. It can make me uncomfortable.

"When I started trying to stick up for myself and not put up with his crap he would begin breathing really short and fast breaths. He would try to bring on an asthma attack, and succeeded several times. After a year or so, the silence wouldn't last and the short breathing would begin almost instantly until he was on the verge of an asthma attack. It got so bad, and I was always so scared he would bring on a bad episode I would apologize over and over, but he wouldn't stop until I was literally on my knees, crying and begging him to stop, and saying I was the one in the wrong, and that he was right. He was always right."

"Can I ask," Cullen huffed, his cheeks pushing out on the breath he exhaled. "I don't really know how to phrase this... You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to. Tell me if I’m…” he cleared his throat, “did he... ever...?"

"Get violent?" Nevena finished.

"In a manner of speaking."

Her lips curled at the corners into a grim smile. "Sometimes. At first he would just... threaten it. A fist would fly past my face and hit a wall when he got angry. Or he would lash out as if to smack me and stop himself at the last minute, resorting to patting my cheek, when I'm sure he meant to slap me." She bit her lower lip. Maybe this was too much information. Maybe she should stop. For Cullen's sake, as well as her own. Talking about Rick always filled her with dread, and now was no exception. She wished the lights were brighter, the amount of shadows were making her uneasy - she could just imagine him stepping out from the gloom. "He... uhm..." She scrunched her eyes closed and breathed deep. "He preferred leaving bruises that weren't obvious. That weren't immediately visible." Opening her eyes, she levelled Cullen with a look. "If... If you catch my meaning."

Cullen opened and closed his mouth. Nevena could see him trying to find a way to word whatever question was in his mind. "So... bruising? Under your clothing?"

"That. And he liked rough sex," Nevena said, hoping her grimace was not obvious. "Really rough. He would leave bite marks, bruises, he drew blood a few times. He didn't respect boundaries, what I was comfortable with. Safe words didn't exist to him. And the words 'no' or 'stop' had no meaning... It was very... him centric. As long as he got off, he was happy. Honestly, by the time things got that bad I... I'd lost almost all my will to fight him on anything. I'd lie there and take it." She breathed out uneasily feeling her chest constrict. Pain tingled behind her nose and she fought to hold back tears that were threatening to well up in her eyes. "I think it made things better for him. If I... when I cried. Or bled. Or..." Feeling bile rising up her throat, Nevena swallowed thickly and the rest of her words died in her mouth.

"Oh." Cullen's face was grave. His voice still. "I see. I'm... I'm sorry. So sorry that happened to you." He gingerly reached towards Nevena and she allowed him to take her hands. "If that was an inappropriate question to ask, I--"

"No," Nevena shook her head and sniffled. "It’s fine. It's best to ask questions, if you want to." She swallowed again and closed her eyes to centre her thoughts. A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

"Nevena," Cullen said gently, "if you don't want to talk about this, please don't force yourself."

"No, no. I'm fine." She replied, trying to smile. "It's just... sometimes I feel like just thinking about him will summon him to wherever I am."

Cullen moved closer, "Nev..."

"Skipping forward to when I broke up with him," she continued hurriedly, "it went about as well as you can probably imagine. At the time, I was living in a building with maintenance and a super. Rick started kicking the door after I closed it. He was shouting, screaming, making a scene and threatening me through the door. I called down to the super, as did a few other residents apparently. Rick was escorted from the building and barred."

"That's good, right?"

"Hah, you'd think." Nevena gave a strained laugh. "Roselyn never liked Rick, and he didn't like Roselyn. While he and I were together, it created a huge chasm between Rose and me... We didn't talk for about a year, but Roselyn was the first person I called when I broke up with him. I didn't have anyone else I felt like I could tell. I would have understood if she'd put the phone down on me, but she didn't. She came over, sat with me, and we talked. I told her pretty much everything I'm telling you, now.

"She kind of took charge because I was flip-flopping between whether I'd made the right choice or not. I was terrified that Rick would bring on an asthma attack and hurt himself, and it would be my fault. Roselyn kept reminding me that Rick was a grown man. If he chose to do that, the consequences were on him..." Nevena sighed. "She removed Rick from all my social media, blocked him on Facebook, twitter. In the space of him being escorted from my building, he'd called and texted dozens of times. Roselyn blocked him on my phone. She went with me the next day to get my number changed. She was... amazing."

"Sounds like she really cares about you."

"She does," Nevena nodded. "She and Alistair, the both of them, were great through the whole ordeal. I crashed on their couch for a month one time, and they didn't complain at all. I'm really lucky to know them both."

"I take it changing your number wasn't the end of it?"

"Not even slightly." Nevena ran her hands back through her hair. "Eventually, I told my sisters and my parents. Rick had already told them and given them a tearful rendition of the break up and how I was being unreasonable. Naturally, they took his side over mine. I was given lectures from all sides, about how I was being selfish, how I would never find someone as good as Rick was. I tried to explain, and none of them would listen. My dad wouldn't speak to me, said I'd done irreparable damage to him and his fucking company." Tears burned her eyes and made the space behind her nose uncomfortable. Nevena rubbed her sleeve over her face gritting her jaw. She shuddered and told herself it was just the cold. "He didn't care at all about what damage Rick did to me over four years. None of them did."

"Hey, it's okay." Cullen moved closer still, until his knees were touching her leg. He took her hands again, and then moved his grip further up her arms until he was holding her gently by the shoulders. "Nevena, you don't have to continue, if you don't want to."

"No." She sniffed and took a few moments to regain her composure. "I do. I want to. I'm fine." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine. I can do this. Please let me. I want you to know. To… to understand."

"If you're sure." He sat back.

"I'm sure." A brief smile. "I am. So," Nevena huffed, dropping her shoulders. "After getting no support from my family, I decided to stick with the people I knew were on my side. I didn't count on my family trying to help Rick get back into my life, though. Ineria gave Rick my new number after the first time I changed it. It happened again, with Clotilde, and with Arienne. Every time I changed my number, they gave it to him. They all thought they were helping. They thought they were helping when they invited him to a family get together where I was going to be. They loved Rick. Far more than they loved me, it seems... I stopped giving them my number after the fifth time I changed it. I didn't reply to emails from them. I didn't want them to be in my life if they were going to try and coerce me into a relationship I didn't want. If they wanted to have Rick over me, they could have him.

"The thing is, they never knew, or never wanted to know, how bad it got. How close I came to..." Nevena shook her head and tucked her hands into her sleeves. "In the months following breaking up with him, a new side of Rick came out. A side I had only ever seen glimpses of. He started stalking me. He would be across the street when I left in the morning to go to work. He would be outside the school as the kids were going home. I would get letters from him containing photographs of me while I was out doing mundane tasks. He would write things like... he liked how a certain shirt looked when I was wearing it. The letters started off just plain pathetic and creepy, but they became violent. He would write about how he wanted to take me away, somewhere no one would find me, and--"

"Wait." Cullen spoke up, placing a hand on Nevena's. She looked up at him. His expression was hard, brows furrowed with a crease across his forehead. There was anger in his face, disgust too. His free hand was balled tightly into a fist, the knuckles white. "The police. You went to the police, right?"

"I did..."

"And?"

"They couldn't do anything."

A bark of laughter left Cullen's mouth. "You're joking, right? He was threatening to abduct you, he was stalking you... and they couldn't do anything?"

Nevena shook her head slowly. "No. I mean, I had an officer to liaise with, Captain Aveline Vallen. She was the one I gave all the letters to, all the proof. But because he only threatened to act and hadn't actually done anything, it was all circumstantial, stuff that could be used as back up proof if he ever did go through with the things he threatened. It wasn't considered serious enough for a restraining order or anything. She said you can't arrest someone for planning something, only if they do it. Otherwise the police would arrest every person who threatened to kill someone in the heat of an argument or a drunken rage."

"That's ridiculous," Cullen scoffed.

"It's how things are..." Nevena shrugged. "Aveline was great though. She wanted to do more than she could, you just knew she did. But she was bound by the higher powers."

"And this... this behaviour carried on for eighteen months?"

"About that, yeah." Nevena swept her hair over one shoulder. "My life became all about working. I felt safer at work. It's a private school so we have security, and the head mistress, Madam Vivienne noticed I wasn't myself early on. When I told her what was happening, she increased security and had them on the lookout for Rick all the time - she was worried about me, but also the students. If he turned up, he was escorted off the grounds. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing and it felt good to have that security at work." Pausing, Nevena moved, uncurling her legs and stretching them out towards the coffee table. She winced through pins and needles shooting through her limbs.

"Honestly, going to and from work was the worst, next to being home. Sometimes he would be on the same train or bus as me and just... sit there, staring. Not doing anything, just following me. I would get off the train and run all the way home. I changed the locks on my front door, had a security alarm installed as well extra locks on the windows, just in case. I lived in fear for... a long time. There were times I wouldn't leave the house for days, I would keep the curtains drawn. I was diagnosed with anxiety. My whole life was spiralling out of my control because of one person. And aside from Roselyn and Alistair, I didn't have anyone else's support. My family picked Rick over me and as far as I was concerned, I was done with them."

"I'm sorry." Cullen took both her hands in his and brought them to his mouth. Nevena's skin tingled where he kissed it and she fought back the prickling behind her eyes. "For everything he put you through." The gesture and words were sincere and unexpected; Nevena's chest tightened a little when he lifted his eyes to hers. For a split second it was like she couldn't breathe. "I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"It wasn't the best time, no," she replied managing to catch her breath that hitched. "But, there's a happy ending. Kind of. If you're not bored."

"Never." He continued to hold her hands, thumbs making regular brushes over her knuckles. Nevena watched the repetitive motion. "Tell me."

Nevena cleared her throat. "Realising that he wasn't going to leave me alone, Roselyn hatched a plan to entrap him. She'd probably been watching too many true crime shows, but we all knew we needed to catch Rick actually doing something. I gave her access to all my social media. She unblocked him and over a week messaged him as me. As me, she told him how much I missed him, how much I regretted breaking up with him, and that I was just overwhelmed with the proposal." Nevena laughed softly to herself. "I don't know if she expected it to work, but Rick bought it and within a week arranged to meet 'me'."

"But it was Roselyn?"

"Mhm-hm. She arranged the meet up on a school day after work. She and Alistair sat at a table with a clear view to where Rick was sitting. I wasn't coming. At all. I didn't even know she arranged this until later."

"Right."

"As Roselyn kept texting him on a spare phone she had, Alistair recorded the whole thing. As me, Roselyn told Rick I was running late and to order me something. I don't drink alcohol much, Roselyn knows that. So does Rick. She asked for a soda, he ordered some sort of soda vodka mix... And Alistair caught him on camera lacing the drink meant for me with something."

"Like... a drug?"

"Yeah. It was tested by the police after Rick was arrested. It was a tranquilizer, like rohypnol, that would have made it seem like I was very, very drunk if ingested. Effectively making me vaguely aware of things but not in control of myself, I guess?"

"So, he was arrested?" Cullen asked.

"Roselyn called Aveline as soon as she and Alistair realised what Rick had done. Aveline arrived, Rick was arrested - without putting up a struggle, it was like he knew he'd been caught. He was taken to a holding cell temporarily and charged with possession of a controlled substance. When all the other evidence in relation to the stalking came to light, that was also added to the charges along with harassment... He was supposed to get a long jail sentence."

"He didn't?"

Nevena shook her head with a bitter smile. "Not even a month. He was out on bail within twenty-four hours. Having a rich, influential family helps an awful lot. He was given a fine, community service, and a court order to attend a psychiatric evaluation. I think his family took him to Tevinter, or Antiva." She shrugged and pulled her hands from Cullen's to rub her arms. "I got my restraining order. Too little, too late. But I got it. And... then I moved to my loft. My old place just felt tainted. Since then, I've been trying to rebuild my life and my confidence."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." Nevena got to her feet, needing to stretch and put some space between herself and Cullen. She needed to put some space between herself and her account too. Talking about everything made her uneasy and recounting it all caused so much of the fear she felt then come flooding back. "Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you. I know it's kind of crazy."

"No, no, it's not that." Cullen stood up too. He ran his hands over his face and scratched his stubble. "I'm just... astounded, I guess? And angry. And confused, I think."

"Why?"

"Why did you think telling me this would make me think you're a terrible person?" Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. "If anything, I'm impressed by you. By how resilient you are. I'm about as much of a fan of your family as I was before, but you... You're just... remarkable. To experience that and still be the way you are."

A weak laugh fell out of Nevena's mouth. She grabbed the edge of the counter to support herself, feeling as though her knees were about to buckle. He was looking at her as though she were something or someone special. Like she was precious and rare. She was torn between asking him not to look at her like that, and never wanting him to stop looking at her in such a way. "I just... I thought, given how I handled it, with Rick, my family... I suppose I convinced myself I was a pretty shitty person for not really explaining to them. Or him."

"Sounds like you did try to explain things to them from where I'm standing," Cullen said, "and fuck explaining anything to Rick. That your family valued him over you is... maddening to me. Did you show them the letters? The photographs?"

"Yep," Nevena snorted. "They accused me of having someone take the photos for me, writing the letters myself. Ineria was convinced I was doing it for attention. And I guess... I could kind of understand their view."

Cullen scoffed, "You're joking."

"No." Slowly, Nevena began to sweep her fingers through her hair, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "In front of them, Rick was always a gentleman. He was a chameleon. He was charming and funny, very charismatic in public, and it was only to me he showed his true colours... Of course, his dad and mine were friends since childhood," She chuckled. "I didn't stand a chance against that."

"Of course," Cullen huffed.

Silence fell between them for several minutes. Nevena busied her hands by putting away the crockery and utensils Cullen used earlier. She could see him reflected in the kitchen window, his expression puzzled and thoughtful. Clearly Nevena had given him a lot to think about, and he would need time to mull it all over. She felt odd, having disclosed something so personal to him. Tired, vulnerable, but oddly lighter. She entrusted him with something sensitive and private, just as he had; the ground they were on now was even.

"Can I just clarify something?" he asked.

"Sure." Nevena went and leaned against the arm of the sofa. "What is it?" She stretched her legs out before her.

"Was it your intention to separate yourself from your family when you found out you were adopted?"

"No," Nevena said, without a moment of hesitation. "I wanted space, some time to think. I told Rick because I wanted to talk to someone about it. To get my head straight. My plan was to approach my dad about it when the stress of moving was done in the New Year. But then everything with Rick happened, and when my family picked him over me, I think I realised how little value I held to them."

Cullen came and leaned on the arm of the couch beside her, "So, in that case, why did you agree to come here? For Christmas? Why did you agree to put yourself through this?"

She bowed her head, biting her lips while considering his query. It was a good question, one she asked herself several times over the last few days. "Because... they're my family," she admitted in a small voice. "They're the only family I've known. And they're not perfect. My sisters are judgemental, my mum is a piece of work, my dad is a dinosaur, but they're all I've known my whole life. I love them, for better or worse, even if some of them don't love me. I wanted to reconnect with them." She smiled as she turned her head and looked at him, realising he was watching her. "I know it sounds stupid and probably doesn't make much sense."

"Not stupid," Cullen sighed, "I understand. I think." He reached across and tentatively took her hand in his, sliding his fingers between hers. Nevena's face warmed. She stared at their hands connected in her lap fighting for each inhalation to settle the butterflies in her chest. "Your family have no idea what a remarkable person you are, clearly."

"I'm not remarkable," she said, breathing out shakily. "I'm no different to anyone."

Cullen's free hand brushed the underside of her chin, a feather of a touch but she felt as it as though he'd grabbed her. She allowed him to guide her head to turn until she was looking up at him, hoping her swallowing down on her heart thudding at the back of her throat wasn't as obvious as it felt. He was looking at her again, with a softness and warmth in his expression that made Nevena's stomach coil and her toes curl. She remembered the kiss in the kitchen. A tingle came to her lips and she struggled not to let her eyes flick down and trace the shape of his mouth.

"Yes, you are."

Maker, he was handsome. He was handsome and genuine, and kind. Maybe if they'd met three years, two years, even a year before, things would be different for the both of them. Maybe if she'd known Cullen before Rick, none of it would have happened.

He didn't speak, not with words at least. His expression spoke for him, the affection she saw in his honey-brown eyes making her feel like she could simply fall into him. Maker's breath, she wanted to. His fingers under her chin drew back and forth softly along her jaw line and up, tracing over the shell of her ear to tuck her hair behind it.

She was leaning into him, willing him to kiss her, willing herself to simply give in. She wanted that same heady kiss again. She craved the fire and need she felt behind every touch and it was so tantalizingly close. His hand curved around to cradle the back of her skull. She wanted it, him, more than air, but a louder part of her mind was screaming. It would make things messy and confusing. It would only hurt more when the contract came to an end, if she allowed things to go any further. She didn't want to make things any more complicated. She didn't want him to feel like he should do this because of what she told him.

"Cullen," Nevena murmured, gathering every ounce of strength and will power.

His eyes slipped closed, his lips dangerously close to hers. "Nevena..."

She dropped her head so his lips pressed against her forehead. Even that was enough to make her heart stutter. "We shouldn't." Immediately his eyes flickered open. His cheeks were red and he pulled back, looking a little dazed. Nevena extracted her hand from his own. "I'm sorry." She slid off the arm of the couch and smiled weakly. "I just... I don't want this to be... weird."

He nodded a little, still wearing a look of mild confusion. "Yeah... yeah. I... I'm sorry, too."

"It's fine." Nevena ran her hand through her hair. "It's been a long night."

"Definitely." Cullen stood.

"I, uhm..." She reached for his arm, thought better of it and dropped her hand to her side. "Thank you. For listening. I mean... I appreciate you being so patient."

"Of course." Cullen slid his hands into his pockets. "Thank you for trusting me."

She felt awkward standing there, smiling half heartedly while desperately regretting not kissing him. A brief nod and she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. "I'm going back to bed," she announced. "Guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Not too early?" he laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Sure." Nevena closed the bedroom door behind her and quickly climbed back into bed. For a few minutes she stared at the door, hoping Cullen might just throw caution to the wind. Hoping he might come in, pin her down, and kiss her until she couldn't breathe. She would let him. She would enjoy it too, and keep him entwined in her arms until they were sweat slicked, and panting, and clinging to each other, unsure where one started and the other ended.

She bit her lip against the heavy, pleasant twisting of her stomach and quickly fled to the ensuite bathroom to splash water on her face. It had been a long time since she felt anything close to the way he made her feel. She wasn't sure if it was lust, or longing, or desire, a basic need for more intimate companionship, or more than that, but it was confusing and had the ability to overwhelm her better senses.

It was a dangerous feeling, and scary in its own way. Nevena wasn't certain if she wanted to embrace it or not.

So, that's Nevena's explanation. It's been a long time coming, and I hope it explains a few things pertaining to her behavior. It'll be interesting to see where this leaves her and Cullen's relationship, won't it?

I know this chapter is a quite tough to get through, this was very much a personal one for me, as a lot of what Nevena mentions here is stuff I experienced with my own ex (hey, write what you know, yeah?) Thank you for being with me on this journey so far, there is still plenty to come. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter despite its harsher content, please let me know what you think, if you can in comments, reblogs and tag flails - I really am eager to hear your thoughts and all comments/tag flails/reblogs are greatly appreciated (keep your local fic writer fed!). I'll see you in the next one. <3