#and painting the plaid almost knocked me out...

[almondpiglet]

happy new year!!! redrew another one of my favorite mp100 official art wahoooo

[playingdxngerous]

guitar lessons

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! some impact play (barely, like almost not at all), degradation, teasing, talk of a safe word, handcuffs (in a way?? but not for very long), praise, a little fluff, fingering, masturbation, oral f! and m! receiving, penetration f! receiving

Word Count: 1822 IT FEELS SO SHORT AND RUSHED IM SO SORRY 💔💔 IT’S 2 AM IM SO TIRED

Hookups with Jake were not unusual. It happened more often than you wish to admit. However, today will be different. Today is a guitar lesson, and only a lesson. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?

.

.

.

As you begin to knock on the all too familiar door of Jake's house, he opens it immediately. He greets you with a bright smile, seeming genuinely excited to see you.

"Hey pretty girl," he smirks. Your face automatically gets hot, but you do your best to shut it down.

"Jake stop. We agreed just a guitar lesson today. That's it." You respond. He rolls his eyes.

"I know. Come in." He widens the door and locks it behind you as you walk in. The smell of pumpkin overwhelms your senses as you walk into the living room. A small candle is lit on the table, creating a comforting vibe to the area.

"Since when did you even own candles," you laugh. He looks at you and struggles to hold down his smile.

"Fine then," he blows it out. "Guess someone doesn't appreciate fall like I do." You can't help but stare at him. He is built with beauty. From his blue plaid shirt to his skinny jeans, everything about him is so beautiful. Today is going to be very hard to keep as just a guitar lesson when all you can think about it how badly you wish to kiss his perfect lips.

"See something you like?" He teases as he looks himself up and down.

"Bring me the stupid guitar," you laugh, trying to avoid the question as you both know the answer already. He walks over with a basic black guitar and places it in your arms while he sits on the couch beside you.

"Aw is your beloved too precious for me to play?" You say through a grin.

"You are so needy. We are never going to get anywhere like this." Nevertheless, he gets up once more and brings you his well-known Gibson SG. There's small chips and scratches along the paint of it, reminding you of all the times you've watched him absolutely destroy it on stage. All the times you've watched him pulse into it just like he does to you.

"So, what all do you know about guitar already?" He asks, breaking your dirty thoughts.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Okay great," he says sarcastically. "Guess we can start with chords then." He begins to give you finger placements which you try your best to follow. You fail of course, with it being your very first time even holding a guitar.

"Alright here I'll show you," he says as he grabs your left hand and places it correctly on the fretboard. You scoot closer to him and angle your body, your back laying against his chest. He grabs your right hand and helps you strum the strings.

"You're doing so good now," he says softly into your ear.

"As if you aren't doing all the work for me."

"Fine then I won't help you." He says as he pulls away from your body. His absence leaves your body cold, longing for his warmth.

"Wait no, come back I'm just kidding. I like your help." You pull him by the sleeve back to where he was. He sighs and starts to talk about another chord, yet all you can think about is him and his perfection. His cologne now becomes more visible with the scent of the candle fully gone. You take note of his calloused fingertips grazing across yours. His soft brunette locks touch your shoulder every time he leans against you further.

"Are you even listening?" He asks, bringing you back to reality.

"Yeah sorry." You apologze.

"What did I just say then?" You do your best to come up with a response, but there's no way you could even try to lie your way out of this. His beauty getting the best of you, you turn a little and kiss him. You remember all the promises to keep this just a guitar lesson, but deep down you know it's impossible with Jake Kiszka this close to you. He sets his guitar on this ground and grabs you by the hips. The passion in the kiss turns to lust as he runs his tongue across your bottom lip, begging to let him in.

The kiss gets deeper and deeper as time goes on. You run your hand down the buttons in his shirt and begin to undo the top one. All of a sudden he pulls away.

"You said just a guitar lesson and I don't want to make you do anything you don't-" he says before you interrupt him with another kiss.

"Fuck that Jake. I want you."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Very." You say shortly. He kisses you again, this one somehow even more powerful than the last few. You undo the last buttons, and he slides the sleeves off him arms.

"Just couldn't avoid me enough huh? Too wet and desperate for my dick?" He rasps, making you literally stop breathing. You've waited far too long to see this side of him again. His words turn you on, making you feel your cunt get wetter by the second.

"Holy shit your attitude changed." You breathe out heavily.

"Oh yeah? Should I stop then? You know you have a safe word pretty girl." He raises his hands to your tits, squeezing them softly.

"Please don't stop Jake. I need you so bad." You begin to grind against the crotch of his jeans, making a mess in your underwear.

"Let's go to the bed?" He asks, to which you nod and drag him by the hand to his room. He pushes you on the bed and you crawl back against the pillows. He kisses your thigh, stopping at the zipper on your jeans. He unzips them, and you help guide them off of you. You pull your shirt off, causing him to reach up and unclasp your bra. Throwing it on the ground, he immediately starts sucking on your tits. You squeeze your legs together in order to relieve some of the tension between them. He pushes them apart as soon as he notices.

"C'mon now, let's not get too fast."

"Please Jake, I need you." You whimper. To your surprise he listens and slides his fingers across your wet panties.

"Like I said before, you're always so, so needy. Begging for me like a little whore." He stops his hand and pushes two fingers against your hole, the fabric still covering it. "Say it. Tell me you're my whore."

"I"m your whore..." you whisper.

"Speak up sweetheart." He somewhat gently slaps your thigh with his free hand.

"I'm your fucking whore Jake please just fuck me already oh my god." He takes his hand away. "Please," you say nicely as you grab his wrist.

"Should I really? I think I'd prefer to watch you squirm and beg for me." He grabs your tits once more and sucks a hickey onto your chest. Tired of waiting, you reach down and rub your clit yourself. You moan and grab his hair with your other hand. He pulls away again to no surprise.

"That's not going to work sweetheart." He confusingly gets off the bed. "Don't you fucking move." He says, walking out of the room. He returns seconds later with a guitar strap in his hands. He steps over to you and ties your wrists together with the strap.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" You smirk.

"Not important," he says shortly. He finishes tying and kisses a trail from your lips to your soaked underwear. He slides his finger over your slit, still covered by the stupid fabric you wish you took off earlier. "This what you want baby?" He asks. You nod vigorously. He pulls the panties off, sliding his fingers once more. He brings them to your mouth, making you taste yourself. He then sucks on those same fingers before sliding two of them into you quickly. You moan as he curls them just right.

"I'm going to cum if you keep doing that." You say, yet immediately regret. He pulls out of you, edging you worse than ever.

"We can't have you doing that so soon my love. We just started." He moves his head down right after, licking circles around your clit yet refusing to touch it. You try to reach down and guide him, yet the guitar strap stops you. You grind your hips into his face instead. He actually lets you do this, shocking you to your core. The feeling of his tongue moving so smoothly against your clit sends chills down your back. The knot in your stomach burns even more, just begging to come undone. Jake notices and pulls away once more. This man will be the death of you.

"I said not so soon." He smirks. His starvation for you fills his eyes. He wipes his mouth with the side of his hand and undoes the guitar strap. "Touch yourself."

"What?" You're taken aback by his comment.

"Touch yourself like the slut you seem to be. So needy to cum so do it already." You reach down and rub your clit as he watches. He leans down and kisses your thighs. You move faster, to which he responds by sadly grabbing your wrists and stopping you. "You really think I'd let you finish that easily?"

"You're such a fucking asshole." You groan. He suddenly unzips his jeans, his dick hard already. He reaches in his nightstand and throws a condom at you.

"Put it on me." He demands. You slide it on him and pull back to let him fuck you. He immediately begins to pulse into you, moaning under his breath. "So hot watching my dick in your pretty pussy," he whispers into your ear. This sends you over the edge, finally allowing your orgasm to release. Your moans turn into yells. He pulls out of you to let both of you catch your breath. "Make me cum sweetheart." You turn around and sit on top of him. Your shaky legs straddling his waist. You scoot further down and pull the condom off, putting his dick in your mouth. You go as far as you can, your hands covering the rest of his length. You bob you head up and down, before he quickly finishes into your mouth.

"Such a good girl," he says, pulling you up by your jaw. He kisses you shortly. "My good girl." You kiss him lovingly, your hands moving up his neck and into his hair. "So pretty and perfect. You did so good."

"So much for the guitar lesson," you giggle. He pulls you in close and squeezes you.

"This was much better."

"Are you saying I suck at guitar?" You scoff.

"No!, he clarifies, "I was just aching to touch you the whole time."

"Mhm yeah, keep trying to defend yourself Kiszka."

"Fuck you," he laughs.

"Pretty sure you already did." You fall back into his arms, kissing his cheek as he embraces you.

[twogyuu]

'for good measure'

Pairing: Renjun x gn!reader

Synopsis: Renjun is just cold - not drunk.

Genre: Fluff, mildly suggestive(?), crack, established relationship, mentions of Hyuck, Jaemin, and Chenle.

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk!Renjun, Chenle throws a shoe

WC: ~900

A/N: Fulfilling writing new year's resolution #1 😶 I will slowly start writing for NCT . . . 😊 I don't actually know what I'm doing LMAO.

Anyways! Inspired by Renjun's SMCU Palace photoshoot and just soft for a manz who looks adorable in a puffer coat - he's kinda cute ig :')

Your fingers gently traced along the pink that dusted across his cheeks as he peered up at you, standing between his legs. You weren’t sure if it was from the one too many shots Donghyuck had shoved in Renjun’s hand or the nip of the chilly evening. He was sniffling and he was hasty to take the hot pack that you offered earlier, so you presumed it was the latter. Night had already fallen, but his eyes shined prettily, a pearl-like glint in the corner of his orbs reflecting the moonlight. His lashes fluttered with every blink, his velvet lashes kissing the highs of his cheeks. 

“Are you drunk?” you asked in a hushed voice. Your hands stopped at his jaw, cupping his face as you leaned in closer. 

“Just cold,” he fibbed, the scent of alcohol lingering on his breath. Unintentionally exposing himself, eyes closed, he smiled a little too wide, it was almost silly, which was very unlike him. He leaned into your touch, his face landing in your hand a little rougher than intended, nearly tipping over.

You were quick to catch him, straightening his body. 

“Liar,” you chuckled. 

“Hey!” Renjun retorted. “Am not!”

“We should get you some water,” you started to pull away. 

Immediately, Renjun’s hands came up to your waist, his fingers hooking around the pockets of your puffer coat and pulled you closer into him. 

“Renjun,” you sighed.

“Stop,” he protested, “I said I’m just cold – why don’t you believe me?” 

“Cold and drunk?” you offered. 

He huffed, snaking his arms around your waist. Your breath hitched when he rested his cheek against your abdomen, taking you by surprise. It wasn’t that Renjun didn’t love you, but he was never one for PDA.

“Stay,” he hummed, ignoring the shock and mild annoyance in your tone. “You’re warm.”

“We’d be warmer inside.”

“I like it here.”

“Renjun . . .”

“No.”

A black and white Adidas sandal suddenly came sailing your way, whacking Renjun softly in the back. 

“Hey–”

You glanced up to find Chenle wrapped in a red and green plaid blanket, leaning out the sliding door. 

“Get a room,” Chenle deadpanned, “As cute as you are and as entertained as we were to get you on camera being lovey dovey for once, you’re gonna freeze out here. Plus, we’re all kind of getting sick of watching the two of you be soft and shit for us and the neighbors to see.”

Annoyed, Renjun shot a glare at his friend before wrapping his hand around your wrist and tugging you inside. 

“I’ll be ‘soft and shit’ in our room for the rest of the night then,” Renjun grumbled, pushing past Chenle.

You choked on your saliva.

“He said what?!” you heard Jaemin shriek as you both walked passed by. 

Pulling you inside the bedroom, Renjun was quick to lock the door. He stepped towards you, forcing you to move backwards until you felt the back of your head knock against the white-painted wood. There was a soft orange glow from the lamp you must’ve forgotten to turn off earlier. Even if there wasn’t much light, it was enough to see how blown his pupils were. You made a mental note to scold Haechan tomorrow for getting Renjun to this point. He didn’t handle his alcohol well – always loose-lipped and a little too handsy one too many shots over. He’d wake up with a bad hangover tomorrow – that’s for sure, there would also be a stream of curses and regrets while he rolled around in bed all morning.

Hands resting on either side of your head, Renjun tilted his head to the side, his eyes tracing your features and taking in your shy demeanor. They landed on your lips – dry from the cold, but still kissable. 

Very kissable.

Without warning, he dipped his head and captured your lips, pleased when they still tasted like the strawberry drink you were sipping on earlier. You were taken aback for a second, pressing your back fully into the door and your fingers curled into fists, your nails scraping against the wood before you fell in rhythm with him. You grabbed onto the hems of his coat to steady yourself, leaning in deeper. Renjun made a point to pull back to keep the kiss light. It was nothing passionate per se, but there was an element of urgency to it. Soft and tender as if he was afraid he'd be too rough and make noise that'd give his friends otuside the wrong idea; but his lips moved against your own fast enough that you knew he was eager. 

As quick as the kiss started, his lips left yours just as fast. It was almost as if he used his last ounce of energy on it. Pulling away from you, breathless, he dropped his head onto your shoulder, his forehead pressing into the softness of your coat where your collarbone would be. You felt a slight tug at the pockets of your coat again as his fingers curled in. 

“I . . . I want to kiss you more, but I’m already tired,” he chortled. You could feel him shaking his head on your shoulder. “I’m so drunk – I’m gonna murder Hyuck tomorrow.”

“You and me, same,” you giggled. You raised a hand to pat his back gently. “Let’s sleep.”

“But . . .”

“We have the rest of this vacation to kiss – don’t worry,” you reassured him. 

He huffed, raising his head and quickly pecked your lips.

You cocked a curious eyebrow at him. You weren't really used to this side of him - ever.

“One last one, for good measure,” he explained as if it was obvious.

You shook your head, chuckling, “You are very lucky you’re cute when you're drunk.”

[chaiiitime]

Hey, it's repetitive me again. Sitting patiently, waiting for the pt. 4

a lil sneak-peak to tide you over maybe, my dear anon?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but —“ Daniel shifted on his side as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at her, the chain around his neck catching the sun. “Is your book even any good?” He asked as he watched her fiddle with the pages. “Looks like you’re still stuck at the same place as yesterday.”

She surprised him with a bashful laugh. 

“I guess not,” she said as she gave up the pretense of reading. “I think I just wanted a book with a pretty cover.” She turned the book towards him, showing him the sparkly trail of stars painted on a deep blue. 

“I thought the first rule about books is not to judge one by its cover,” he joked. 

“Well, this one fooled me,” she said as she placed the book aside and leaned back to mirror his pose. 

“Not even a nice cover can get me to read a book.”

“Not a fan of reading, are you?” She teased. 

“Nopes,” he popped the P at the end as he smiled. “Can never sit still long enough to read one —

“And I know what you’re going to say. Sitting in an F1 car for two hours to go round a circuit is very different.”

“I’m trying to imagine teenage Daniel sitting through English class.” She made a mental note to google pictures of younger Danny later — there must be quite a few out there, right?

“Oh I was a terror!” He said with a laugh. “I think my teacher had PTSD from having me in her class. 

“I was so disruptive,” he said almost wistfully. “In fact, one time they had to call my mum in to ask if I had, you know, any learning difficulties and then, this, in turn, made my mum even more anxious about me. 

“She used to threaten revoking my karting privileges if I didn’t study.”

“Did you then — study?”

“Ah, hell nah!” Dimples flashed. “I used to copy stuff off this girl that sat in front of me. She was —“ He reached out, twinning a strand of her hair around his finger, looking at the burnished copper that the sun brought out in it. “— just like you. Nerdy, smart, the hottest little miss know-it-all.”

“Bold of you to assume I was a know-it-all,” she said almost indignantly, playfully knocking him on his shoulder.

Daniel lifted his eyebrows at her, as if to say really? 

“Okay, fine,” she rolled her eyes at him as she relented. “I went to an all-girls school, we were all know-it-alls.”

Daniel shifted closer to her, the look in his eyes lambent with the simmering desire between them. “But did you wear glasses and those tiny pleated plaid skirts?” 

“I’ll have you know, my skirt was by no means tiny. It was exactly the length that the school rule book stated,” she said primly. 

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

shut up and sleep with me chapter 1

here it is, a danlou fic for vamptember for the prompt "bed sharing"

The knock is so soft, Daniel almost doesn’t hear it.  He wouldn’t have, if he were fully asleep.  He blinks his eyes a couple of times and grunts out a noise that roughly means ‘hold on.’  Damn vampires can read minds anyway.  Unless it’s someone from the staff, in which case, waiting is hardly the worst they’re getting paid for.  

Daniel pulls his glasses off the nightstand and shoves them on.  He slips his flannel robe over his white tee shirt and boxers and ties it closed.  He’s old, he can say fuck pants if he wants.  On the way to the door, he steps into his slippers.  It's as cold as winter in this house.  Vampires hardly need the AC, so it must be for the staff.

When Daniel’s father got old, he started wearing a sweater year round, even in the summer.  Maybe Daniel is turning into him; he’s certainly bitter enough.  

He swings open the door and Louis is standing outside in black plaid pajamas.  “What?”

“Can I come in?” Louis asks.

“Why not?” Daniel says and steps back to let him in.  Louis glides inside with that light and airy walk he has.  Daniel wonders if all vampires are as graceful as these two.  

Louis glances around the room.  It’s not quite like the others, the design here is less minimalist.  It’s still sparse, but clearly inspired by the Italian renaissance with warm browns and creams.  The bed is a large four poster thing made of wrought iron.  The mattress is a little too firm, but the sheets are softer than air and the pillows are the kind that remembers you.  

As of the moment, the bed is unmade, dark blue cotton sheets kicked back and twisted together.  Daniel hadn’t been able to get comfortable.  He spent most of the time staring at the ceiling, looking at the painted bodies, contorted and grasping, reaching towards something.  They looked to be in agony.  

Kind of a dickish design choice for a guest room, really.

“This is Armand’s room; did you know that?  He sleeps in here when I need space,” Louis says and looks to Daniel.  “We had a disagreement.”

“And you came to me?”

Louis says nothing, merely goes and sits on the edge of Daniel’s bed.  “Usually when we arguing he sleeps in here.  But now there’s you.”

“What do you want, Louis?”  Daniel wants to cut to the chase.  Louis wants something or he wouldn’t be here.

“I wanted to sleep in here.  I thought you would be awake.”

“Slept for shit last night,” Daniel says, then adds “Why not just kick Armand to the couch?”

Louis’ jaw goes tight.  Daniel laughs.  “Oh, you did, and he refused.”

Something shifts in Louis' expression and he says “Are you gonna let me share your bed or not, Daniel?”

Oh.

Oh.

Daniel thought Louis would want him to take his work to another room and let him sleep in here.  That seemed to be his intention.  He’s only asking to throw Daniel off.  Daniel isn’t going to let it faze him.  

“Yeah, fine,” Daniel says, “Just keep your dead man’s feet to yourself.”

Louis smiles a little, and follows him back to the bed.  He takes the side opposite Daniel and slides in.  And yeah, Daniel is objectively aware that Louis is attractive.  He’s a good-looking guy.  But that doesn’t mean anything to him.  Daniel isn’t gay.  He’s been married twice.  

It’s just discomfort of his personal space being breached that has Daniel nervous and sweating.  Not because having Louis so close is making him think of just how lovely he looks, how he could reach out and touch, if he wanted to.  Daniel closes his eyes and grips his hands into fists.  He lies there without moving for a long time, until eventually, sleep takes him.

When he wakes, Louis is sprawled over top of him with his head nestled on Daniel’s chest.  His erection is pressing against Daniel’s and Daniel wants nothing more than to grind up against him.  But he’s asleep.  It wouldn’t be right.  

Daniel could wake him.  But then, Louis would notice Daniel’s own erection.  Daniel doesn’t want that.  He’s just thinking of what to do when Louis shifts and opens his eyes.  He blinks sleepily, then looks up at Daniel and smiles.  

“Good morning, Daniel.”

[cherry-nachimbong]

sibling hcs ~ eleven + will

a/n: oh hey guys,,,,i’m back from the dead and currently obsessed with stranger things

i feel like we dont get enough wileven content without mike so these are meant to take place in that span of time between the end of s3 and beginning of s4 here u go

after living with each other for almost a year

it’s safe to say that el and will have fallen into a comfortable brother + sister dynamic

they weren’t exactly close back in hawkins

and will almost resented her for stealing his best friend

but how could he hate her

el’s still learning a lot about how the real world works

he got protective right away when angela and her clique started teasing her

but el convinced him to let it be, she can handle it herself

so he supports her the best he can while staying out of it

will helps el test her powers in the shed(just in case they’ve come back overnight)

and when it doesn’t work, they eat eggos till they’re ready to yak

el always keeps her door open three inches, out of habit

some nights will crawls into bed with her when he’s had a nightmare of the upside down

since they’ve shared that experience they can comfort eachother better than anyone else

they also share clothes

“what? no we don’t-hey is that my shirt??”

it’s just that he loves to wear plaid button ups just like the ones hopper used to have

“uhhhh we’re late for first period let’s go”

“JANE”

he only calls her that when he’s joking-around mad or at school

the rest of the time she’s el

she’s been pestering will for weeks to tell her who he likes

because she just knows he’s crushing on someone

but he can’t tell her

“i will find out eventually, you know”

oh, the woes of falling for your sister’s long distance boyfriend

but this isn’t about mike

anyways

el cutting her bangs over the bathroom sink while will sits on the counter supervising

(joyce had a fit, but eventually decided they look good on her)

will introducing el to the clash just like jonathan did with him

apparently el really likes rock

you can now find her screaming in her room to the chorus of call me by blondie

*will banging on the other side of the wall* JANE WILL YOU SHUT UP I’M TRYING TO WORK HERE

*el just turns the radio up louder*

midnight snacks on chocolate pudding, the kind that comes in a can

it reminds them of hawkins and what it would have been like if el went to school with the party

giggling around the corner while joyce interrogates a sky-high jonathan on his whereabouts for the past two days

he’s paid them both $2 to cover for him

will says the lighting is better in el’s room during certain parts of the day

so she’ll let him paint at her desk while she lies on the bed with her sketchbook

he was so excited when he found out she liked at draw as well

will’s been more into painting, lately, so he lets her use his colored pencils and charcoal

they don’t fight often

but when they do it’s over something stupid or just because one is tired and annoyed

two hours after they’ve finished yelling el knocks on will’s door with a tub of strawberry ice cream and two spoons

and all arguments are forgotten

[giantlove]

Believe in the Unknown (part 3)

The abandoned motel sat on a barren, asphalt parking lot. Dark green vines plagued the cracking tan paint on the building. The motel sign had fallen off and sat in a patch of dead grass.

The cold wind whistled, almost like a ghost was there. Flans shivered, while Linnell was intrepid.

Linnell started walking towards the motel, a flashlight in his hand. Flans followed, his teeth chattering.

As they approached the motel, a Vietnamese woman emerged from a motel room, a camera around her neck. She wore a plaid skirt, a red sweater, knee socks, boots and a winter coat.

The woman approached the two Johns, smiling as she extended her hand out to Linnell.

"I'm Ana, Ana Ng. You?" She said as Linnell shook her hand.

"I'm John Linnell, you may have heard of me." Linnell replied as he stopped shaking hands with the woman.

"And I'm John Flansburgh." Flans said as he waved awkwardly to Ana.

"It's nice to meet both of you!" Ana smiled as she led the two into the motel check-in area.

As the trio walked in, the entire place was a mess. The check-in desk was littered with moth-eaten papers, a pencil cup was knocked over, the computer was smashed, the clock above the desk was shattered. There was a sagging leather couch that had stuffing busting out of it in the corner.

The smell of alcohol, smoke, mothballs, vomit and piss filled the air.

Ana led the Johns outside and up a flight of rusted metal stairs.

As they got up the stairs, Ana led them to a motel room. She pushed the water-stained wooden door open and it swung, making a squeaking noise.

As the door swung open, the awful smell from the check-in area greeted the trio again.

As the trio stepped in, the sights were miserable and tragic. Two moth-eaten and stained beds sat adjacent from each-other, two broken lamps sat on each night-stand next to each bed. The carpet was caked with dirt and dust.

"This is the perfect time to murder her." Linnell whispered to Flans as he pointed to Ana.

"What?!" Flans shouted as Linnell grabbed a knife from his pocket and stabbed Ana in the back.

Ana fell to the floor, face first. Linnell slashed her arms and smiled insanely at Flans, who was sweating and shaking.

[buckleydiazmp4]

for @emeraldcas follower celebration!

day 1 - prompt: words unspoken

1.3k words

read below or on ao3

Tonight, Dean's brain has decided it's the perfect time for a little screening of Everything I Regret Saying (Or Not Saying) To The Love Of My Life.

Dean's not good with words. Never has been. Sometimes when he was a kid, he'd spend days without talking. By now, he's figured he just has to show instead of tell, otherwise he'll send every relationship he has flying off a cliff simply because he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking.

With Sammy it got easier eventually. He's learned to understand him without words, to know what he's thinking, how he's feeling. Dean's sure Sam knows how much he loves him, even if he rarely tells him. He's very grateful for that.

With Cas, though, things are different. It's not that he's better with words, it's actually the opposite. He wants to tell him so much stuff that he ends up not saying anything he truly wants to. And then they end up hurting each other, because neither of them knows their way with words. If there was a prize for miscommunication, they'd certainly win first place.

So, every time Dean says something wrong, he feels like a teenager with an embarrassing crush, mulling over his own words, regretting them even years after having said them. It's like an endless cycle of self-loathing, which he's an expert on.

Sometimes it's not even his long, big speeches that have the most meaning behind them, but the little sarcastic quips here and there, or the small, quiet sentences spoken in moments of uncertainty. Those are the ones that rewrite themselves in his heart, like lines of a poem carved in stone.

"Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space." I want you to be close to me all the time but I'm scared you'll just want to walk away.

"Morning, sunshine. Want some coffee?" I love that you're here. This is your home.

"I'd rather have you. Cursed or not." There is nothing that could ever change the fact that I love you.

"I need you." I love you no matter what.

"Of course I forgive you." I never wanted you to leave.

Then there's a look of sorrow, or a hug, a pat on the shoulder, a mixtape...

There's always something, and yet that something never seems to be the words that have been lodged in his throat all through the past decade.

Holding the weight of his regrets, Dean lays back on his memory foam mattress and stares at the ceiling. He pictures Cas' eyes from memory. The way they droop when he's tired, and sparkle when he's curious. The way they squint when he's angry or thoughtful, almost cartoonish. I love him, he thinks, with an ironic chuckle. I love him, and I'm never gonna be able to tell him.

Just as he's about to start round two of his self-loathing ritual, there's a knock on the door.

"Yeah, come in."

Cas walks in, wearing a pair of Dean's plaid pajama pants and a Zepp t-shirt. He's holding two steaming mugs that carry the smell of ginger, and his hair is all over the place.

"What's so funny?" Cas asks when Dean starts laughing.

"Dude, you look like a hedgehog."

Cas does not seem to be happy about Dean's comparison, judging by the squint of his eyes. But that just makes it funnier, so Dean smiles deviously at him until the angry facade is gone, replaced by soft, ocean-blue eyes.

"Dean, it's four in the morning. Why are you not sleeping?"

"Well, I could ask you the same thing."

Cas sighs. "I was making some tea." He says, handing one of the mugs to Dean. It warms up his hands when he holds it.

"At the crack of dawn? Sounds like someone's got a bad case of insomnia." He says it like it's a joke, but he's worried. Again, not good with words.

"Yeah. Maybe I do." Cas says in a raspy voice.

Before regretting it, Dean pats the spot beside him two times, signaling for Cas to sit down. Cas walks the short steps towards the bed and sits down slowly, careful not to spill his scalding tea mug on himself. Then, he lays his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes.

Because Dean has no self-control, he scoots closer to the former angel and stares. His eyes trace the slope of his nose and the curve of his eyelashes, and the way his jawline is pointing upwards. He suddenly gets the urge to trace it with his fingers, to feel the stubble growing there. A wave of longing hits him like it's done a thousand times before, and he does nothing to stop it.

A second later, Cas' breath startles Dean out of his internal thinking. That's when he realizes how close their faces actually are. His first instinct is to move away, maybe say some joke about personal space, but he finds himself unable to move an inch. Cas is just watching him intently and shamelessly, and it occurs to Dean that maybe he's not the only one who likes to observe his best friend like he's a renaissance painting.

Since his body has decided to become a full-time statue, all Dean can do is stare at the wooden headboard next to Cas' face. Then he clears his throat quietly and replaces what he wants to say with something else, the way he always does.

"Maybe you could, um, stay here. Y'know, to help with your sleeping problems. A different mattress might, um. It might help."

Cas takes a little while to answer, long enough for Dean to start panicking. But when he's about deflect his offer with a joke or a change of topic, Cas nods. They're still close enough that his hair tickles Dean's forehead when he moves his head.

"Yeah. It might help." Cas says, matching Dean's small, tense tone of voice.

Dean's brain stopped working the minute Cas sat on his bed, but the rest of his body doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. It's moving on its own, and a second later, his forehead is touching Cas'. He feels electricity run through it, like his skin is made of lightning. If Cas weren't human now, Dean wouldn't dismiss that possibility. Dean does his best work to assess the situation, but all he's coming up with is a repetitive whisper of Cas' name inside his otherwise empty head. He does the one thing he's never been able to do, which is voice his exact thoughts out loud.

"Cas..." he whispers, feeling their breaths mix together.

Cas has always been braver than him, so he's the one who closes the gap. He presses his lips against Dean's, so ghost-like and soft that he's not sure it's real. To test that theory, Dean's brain finally restarts with a jolt, and then he's pushing forward, deepening the kiss, which he's now sure is actually happening.

Cas returns the kiss like he's been drowning for ages and can finally breathe again. The electricity Dean felt when their foreheads touched is dialed up to a hundred where their lips are sliding against each other, like tiny little fireworks exploding against his skin. Despite the surreal feeling of kissing the man he's been in love with for ages, it also feels like home. Cas tastes like ginger and honey, and that cherry chapstick Dean bought for him at the grocery store.

Dean traces Cas' jawline with his thumb the way he was imagining just a few minutes earlier, which pulls a sigh out of him. The stubble tickles his skin, and it feels so good he thinks he might explode. A million words unspoken fly through Dean's mind, but he doesn't need any of them at the moment.

They break the kiss to take air, but their foreheads stay in place, aligned with each other perfectly. Cas smiles, and it's nearly blinding. I love you, Dean thinks, except this time, he's sure he'll be able to tell him in the future.

[nahoyaglock]

↬ KARASUNO AS COUPLE PICS! + headcanons

karasuno x gn!reader, headcanons, fluff

A/N! im so sorry that this is so long hhh + reblogs are appreciated and feedback is too :D i also did not read this over so im sorry if it sucks and theres errors

Daichi

Daichi would walk home with you since you lived nearby him

and since it was the weekend he thought he would hang out with you at your place

you two would stop at a nearby convince store, spliting up and searching the aisles for some ramen and chips

you ran over to the chips aisle after grabbing the ramen and saw daichi grabbing multiple bags

he shot you a big smile and you just scoffed and playfully kicked his shin

"we dont need that many bags daichi!"

"of course we do babe"

you left with 4 bowls of instant ramen and 7 different bags of chips

Sugawara

sugawara had planned this for a whole week

his sweet s/o had a hard week? prepare for some clingy bf sugawara and to be spoiled

he picked you up at 4pm to let you sleep in from staying up studying all night friday

once you arrived at the lake nearby his place, you saw the little picnic blanket

he had brought out a little speaker, playing some soft, relaxing tunes

you guys ate and talked, and even just watched the trees blow in the wind

you would hear a song you like, and you would pull sugawara to his feet to dance to the song

he would twirl you and at the end of the song he would dip you, kissing you softly

"thank you so much suga"

"anything for my sugar~"

Asahi

you were a very reckless person, and asahi loved that about you

he would always be by your side for all your adventures, but one day you decided to settle down

you invited asahi over to your small home, your parents out for the day

your small radio played some old tunes as asahi laid on your bed watching you tend to your plants or ramble on as you always did

you cuddled with him a for a few hours until you saw the orange rays come in through your window

"asahi! asahi watch the sunset with me!"

you shot out of bed and pulled your large boyfriend after you

you opened your window and sat on the window sill, swinging your legs around to the other side

being on a second floor, you started asahi

"Hey, be careful"

"get your big ass over here!"

he followed after you, sitting next to you and wrapped an arm around you as the two of you watched the sun set

Tanaka

fools. you are a pair of reckless fools

tanaka had proposed the idea of a late night hang out

you being just as wild you agreed, and thats how you found yourself with tanaka running around at night, nearly 1am

on your adventure, you found a shopping cart knocked onto its side, you and tanakas eyes meeting with a devious smirk

next thing you knew, tanaka had turned on his speaker and shuffled his spotify playlist as you climbed into the cart

"awe, i wanted you to push me!"

"slow poke! now push!"

he pushed you, running while you two shouted and laughed into the night, doja cat and NIKI playing on his speaker

i just know this mans is a doja cat fan

Nishinoya

nishinoya was a very energetic and fun person, and you were as well, but you just weren't as reckless

as you two walked down the road to your house, nishinoya rambled on and on about practice and his day

you didnt mind, being way less talkative than him, you liked to listen to him

he suddenly jumped into the air, a big happy and excited smile on his face as you could practically see a light buld above his head

"can we take a picture?"

"whats the catch?"

"okay okay, what if we do a handstand!"

you giggled at his request and he looked at you with hopeful eyes

"yes, but if i get hurt your gonna give me a piggy back!"

he sets up his camera against his school bag and sets the timer, running back to where you were

"okay okay, GO!"

you both did a handstand and held it until the timer went off and his phone clicked

Hinata

hinata loved going anywhere with you, as long as you were by his side he was already having so much fun

one day you asked him if he wanted to go to the beach, and he practically shouted in excitement

the next day, saturday, you two left in the morning to take a bus to the nearest beach, and hinata brought his bike

when you guys arrived he walked around with his bike as you ran around slightly ahead oh him in the sad

hinata had to watch over his bike so we couldn't run around with you, but then he got an idea

"hey, do you wanna go on a ride along the shore?"

"OH. MY. GOD. YES!!"

he hopped into his bike and you climbed onto the back, and you two ride along the shore at a decently quick pace

the air in your face made you feel free and you lifted your arms up, closing your eyes as you let the air hit you

hinata would take a quick glance back, but it was just long enough to see the beautiful look on your face that made him smile

-

Tsukishima

even though tsukishima was cold to everyone else, he was slightly less cold towards you, and hed never admit it but you made him soft

i hc tsukishima secretly being a soft boy who enjoys relaxing and reading in his alone time, sometimes even with you

one day you come over to surprise your boyfriend, his brother opening the door for you as you greeted him and his mother.

you made your way to his room and turned the door nob

"oh tsukki!"

you opened the door and saw your boyfriend laying in a pair of yellow and black plaid pajama pants and a navy green sweater, reading as some music played on his speaker

he groaned and closed his book as you walked over to his bed and jumped into his arm

"you had to come over today? you didnt even tell me."

"i like seeing tsukishima kei in his natural habitat"

you pulled a book out of your bag, one that you and tsukishima read together often and he pulled you into his lap and opened to where you had last read

the orange rays of the sun filled his room as you two read the book, soon falling asleep in each others presence

Kageyama

constantly everyday, this boy was trying to find a way to let you into his life or show his appreciation with more than just holding your hand

one day you guys were chilling on the grass infront of his home, his mothers music playing through the living room window, loud enough for you to hear

the sun was starting to set and a slightly blue hue painted the surroundings

"hey, do you dance?"

you were a bit shocked by that question since you were usually the one to ask random questions like that

"im not that good at it but sure, why?"

kageyama stood up and held out his hand

"may i have this dance?"

you laughed at his question and took his hand, pulling yourself up

"yes you may~"

kageyamas hand rested on your hip, your hand on his shoulder and your other hands were connected at your sides

you guys slow danced, mimicking a waltz, stepping on each others shoes occasionally

kageyamas cheeks were red the whole time as he twirled you and connected his hands with both of yours

he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and you stared up in awe as your boyfriend shot a wide smile at you, one that you havent seen before

"y-your smiling!"

"w-what?"

"what did you do to kageyama!"

"i am kageyama!"

Yamaguchi

you and yamaguchi loved to be together, bestfriends and lovers, tsukishima falling victim to third wheeling, not as if he cared much tho

yamaguchi loves flowers almost as much as you do, so when he found this small flower field a few miles past his house he knew he had to take you there

you and yamaguchi walked hand snd hand to this "surprise" place he wanted you to see

when you were close, he covered your eyes and led you past the trees and rocks, placing you in the middle of the large flower field

"ready annnnndd.. open!"

you opened your eyes and froze in awe at the colorful flowers that dotted the field

you turned to your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his neck, tackling him to the floor

"I LOVE YOU SO MUCH TADASHI!"

he winced softly as you whispered apologized and peppered his cheek in kisses and he just laughed

"I love you too y/n"

he turned to his side and plucked a daisy, smiling softly as he turned back to face you

he pushed some hair back behind your ear and placed the flower behind your ear, smiling widely as his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink

"i think you're the prettiest flower in the WHOOOOLE world!"

he placed soft kisses to your lips as you laid in the middle of the flower field

[cjfritos]

In Dreams Begin (Jessa wedding story)

Obviously written by Cassandra Clare. I own no rights to this. This was included in first editions of The Lost Book of the White by her and Wesley Chu. It tells the story of Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray’s wedding and explains why no one remembers it.

Unfortunately it does include some spoilers from LBW so if you have not read it yet, I don’t recommend reading it. Otherwise, enjoy :)

~~~

Magnus Bane was scheming.

         To an untrained observer, the High Warlock of Brooklyn wouldn’t look like he was doing much of anything at all. For one thing, he was wearing purple silk pajamas. For another thing, he was in bed, leaning back against a pile of pillows with a spell book open in his lap.

         Beside him, Alec Lightwood was stretched out on his side, deeply asleep. Earlier that day, Alec had taken their son, Max, to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. This had been at Magnus’s request—he wanted Max to have ample opportunity to tire himself out before bedtime. It worked almost too well. Max had made fast friends with a werewolf toddler named Eliza, and the two of them tore around the gardens blissfully for about three hours straight, Max crawling while Eliza ran, albeit unsteadily. Eliza’s mother had been quite surprised the first time Max levitated. Luckily, he was glamoured so only she and Alec noticed.

         Though not possessed of much vocabulary, Eliza clearly wanted Max to levitate her as well. Fortunately, Max did not yet have that sort of skill. Alec and Max returned home happy, covered in mud, and—best of all—exhausted. Magnus really wanted them all to sleep through the night.

         Magnus shifted position and peered across the room at the mantel clock atop the dresser, a hideous thing covered in putti that Ragnor had given him years ago. The room was lit only by a candle that burned with a blue flame on the table beside him, but he could make out the numbers. It was one forty-five a.m. Surely that was late enough. Surely even the Shadowhunters and Downworlders of the West Coast would be turning in. He’d given Catarina and Jem and Tessa a heads-up, after all, and as for the Blackthorns and Emma Carstairs, they were kids! And not even babies, with their bizarre and erratic relationship to sleep. Surely the would be asleep by now, worn out from running around on the beach or whatever it was that the residents of the Los Angeles Institute did all day. Yes, it was time.

         Snuggling a little farther under the blanket, Magnus looked fondly over at Alec’s sleeping form, his black hair like spilled ink across the ivory pillowcase. He closed his book and set it on the bedside table. He mentally reached within, feeling about for a particular pocket of magic folded away deep inside, a self-contained bubble. I had been two weeks since he’d been freed from the influence of the Svefnthorn, and while the markings on his skin had faded, his teeth had shrunk back to their normal size, and the overcharged magic of the artifact had left his system, this one reserve of magical energy had lingered.

         At first, Magnus had considered hanging on to it as a sort of insurance policy. A little extra magic went a long way, especially when the magic was this potent, and Magnus was quite certain that he and Alec and their friends would have plenty more dangers to face in the years to come. That was their job, after all. But clinging to the magic out of fear of imagined dangers didn’t feel good. It felt like letting demons have a small victory over him, playing right into their scaly, demonic hands. No, instead he had resolved to use the power in a decidedly un-demon-sanctioned manner—to create joy.

         Magnus shut his eyes. Oneiromancy, the study and practice of dream magic, had never been one of his specialties. But with the added kernel of power from the Sveftnthorn, he felt quite confident that he could pull of this one feat, even as complex as it was. The trickiest part, it seemed to him, was holding himself in that drowsy state between waking and sleeping, while maintaining enough awareness to cast the spell. He lay back against the pillows, letting his eyelids flutter shut for just a moment….

~~~

When Magnus opened his eyes again, he was standing in the middle of Blackfriars Bridge, the panorama of London spread out around him in all directions.

         He took a deep breath of river-tasting air. The sky was a dark violet, the sun only just beginning to rise. There was no traffic, which was a distinct advantage to throwing a party on a dream bridge rather than on the real thing. There was a warm breeze in the air, and the Thames danced beneath it, silvery in the dawn light. Had he ever noticed wind in a dream before? Magnus wasn’t sure. He admired the view from the bridge—it seemed just about right, though he hadn’t been here for a couple decades. Perhaps some ugly new construction had taken place since then, but who would fault him for omitting that?

         “Magnus!”

         He turned and saw two figures hurrying toward him. It was Tessa and Jem, both in what Magnus assumed was their pajamas. Tessa’s were gray with white rabbits on them. Jem’s were dark-green-and-navy-blue plaid. They were barefoot, but that wouldn’t matter on a dream bridge. He started to smile as they got closer and he could see that they were both giddy and laughing, a hint of disbelief on their faces.

         Tessa threw her arms around him, knocking him off-balance. He marveled at how solid and real she felt.

         “It’s working!” she said in wonder.

         “A magical discipline unexplored is always worth exploring,” Magnus said, stepping back. “I may be late to the game with oreiromancy, but I plan to make up for my tardiness all at once, right now. Is that what your planning to wear to your wedding?”

         “It’s not traditional, but neither was the yellow cotton shirt dress I wore for the courthouse wedding. And I do love bunnies,” said Tessa. “I’m all right with it if Jem is.”

         “I would marry you if you were wearing a barrel,” said Jem.

         “But why would I be wearing a barrel?” said Tessa.

         They were both grinning at each other stupidly. Magnus decided something needed to be done; he wasn’t sure how long his magic would hold out.

         “I won’t have it!” he said. “If I’m to throw you a dream wedding, you must be properly dressed for the occasion. It’s in my contract. I do hope you read the fine print.”

         He snapped his fingers, and Jem’s pajamas were replaced by an exquisitely cut black suit. Magnus aimed for something that suggested the style of the Shadowhunter gear Jem had worn long ago, in the first years he knew Tessa. Wedding runes were intricately embroidered on the lapels in gold thread. As Jem marveled at the excellent fit, Magnus turned his attention to Tessa.

         “I know,” he said, “a wedding dress is a highly personal choice. But as our other guests will be arriving momentarily, and time is of the essence, I’m going to take a stab at it.”

         “You have my express permission,” Tessa said.

         Magnus snapped his fingers again, and the Tessa was wearing a beautiful sleeveless gown of pale silver, with a full skirt that reminded Magnus of the first time he’d met her, at a vampire ball. A couple more flicks of his fingers, and her hair rearranged itself beautifully into an updo, with a few tendrils loose around her face. One more gesture, and Tessa’s familiar jade pendant appeared around her neck—as did the pearl bracelet she always wore, a gift from Will on their thirtieth anniversary.

         Tessa looked startled, reaching up to touch her hair, then brushing her hands over the gown. “How do I look?”

         Jem looked very young again as he gazed at her, his dark eyes full of emotion. “Ni hen piao liang,” he whispered. You are very beautiful.

         Magnus turned away to give them a moment—and felt familiar arms close around him.

         Alec kissed Magnus on his forehead—being slightly shorter than Magnus, he had to pull Magnus down a bit to do it, which Magnus didn’t mind at all—and muttered, “You’re a sentimental bastard, aren’t you?” in his ear.

         But he was grinning all over his face as he turned to greet Tessa and Jem, congratulating them. They both looked delighted to see him.

         “So let me get this straight,” Alec said. “You, me, Tessa, and Jem will all remember this with perfect recall. For the other guests, they’ll remember it at first, but then it will fade away, the way dreams do?”

         “That is correct. They won’t recall it the way we will, but their souls will be present, and glad for it. Well, mostly glad for it,” Magnus said.

         “What do you mean, ‘mostly’?” Jem said nervously.

         “I mean that I’m not sure how Church will feel about the whole thing.”

         “Church!” Alec and Jem exclaimed at the same time, and turned to see the grumpy Persian cat sauntering toward them down the center of the bridge.

         Tessa laughed. “Well, he does sleep twenty hours a day. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.”

         “I took the liberty of adding him to the guest list you gave me,” Magnus said. “I’m trying to get on his good side.”

         “Why?” Alec asked, incredulous. “He’s a cat.”

         “So he won’t hate me forever when I do this.” Magnus snapped his fingers, and a silver bow in the same fabric as Tessa’s dress appeared around Church’s neck. Church’s eyes widened for a moment. Then he sat down, and after a moment, became very focused on cleaning his front paw.

         “Now,” Magnus said, “I simply must get this bridge decorated.”

         “It’s decorated perfectly,” said a voice from behind him. Turning, he saw Clary, who was holding Max. Behind her was Jace, followed by Isabelle and Simon, who were leaning together, whispering conspiratorially. Jocelyn and Luke were there, looking slightly unkempt, and Magnus remembered that they were in the process of remodeling a barn at Luke’s farm so Jocelyn could expand her painting studio. Ragnor and Catarina had also appeared, as well as a whole gaggle of kids—the Blackthorn clan. Julian and Helen, Tiberius and Livia, Drusilla and Octavian. Emma Carstairs was with them, though she broke away from the group immediately, running to hug Clary. They were the same height now, Magnus noticed with amusement. Max had escaped from Clary and was riding on Alec’s shoulders now, babbling a story to Helen Blackthorn and her wife, Aline. They looked very amused, though it was unlikely they understood even a quarter of what he said.

         Maryse and Kadir were there too, already deep in conversation with Jocelyn and Luke. Kadir hadn’t been on the guest list Jem and Tessa had given Magnus, because they didn’t really know him, but Magnus had added him as Maryse’s plus-one. It never hurt to butter up your boyfriend’s mother, especially when she was willing to babysit for days at a time.

         A couple Silent Brothers had appeared—Enoch? Shadrach? Magnus was slightly embarrassed to admit that they all looked alike to him, now that Jem was no longer counted among their number as Brother Zachariah. Magnus hadn’t known if the Gregori would be able to attend, since they didn’t normally sleep. One of them—Enoch?—inclined his hooded head slightly at Magnus, acknowledging this mad thing he was doing as worthwhile. At least that was how Magnus chose to interpret the gesture.

         Octavian was climbing Jace like a jungle gym. Clary was talking with Julian and Emma, while Tiberius stood near his older brother, looking around at London with fierce curiosity in his gray eyes. Livia and Drusilla were perched on the railing of the bridge, Livia chatting animatedly with Simon and Isabelle, Drusilla looking around shyly. Catarina went to lean beside her, asking her a question. Magnus looked at the motley assortment of clothing on the assembled group. Mostly casual, though there were more pajamas as well. Magnus made two sweeping gestures, and all at once everyone was looking very sharp in formal attire. Even better, they barely seemed to notice the change. Magnus was impressed. Oneiromancy—who knew!

         A hand gripped his arm. It was Tessa, who looked close to tears. “Magnus. I can’t believe you’re doing this for us. I…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

         Magnus regarded her fondle. “Tessa, most people’s idea of a dream wedding is not a literal dream wedding. But since yours is, I am happy to oblige. Shall we get this show on the road?”

         Jem and Tessa took their places on either side of Magnus, and the guests gathered around. The sun had climbed well above the horizon, casting rays of warm light between the long shadows of the wedding guests.

         “Dear friends,” Magnus said to Jem and Tessa, “we are honored to share this moment with you, and I am doubly honored to be given the chance to speak. Several hundred years ago I got very drunk and woke up as ordained minister. Today I have decided that doing so was a wise choice after all.”

         Jocelyn snorted, then looked embarrassed. Luke grinned at her.

         “Joking aside, it is impossible to stand here with you all and not feel that there is some greater plan at work, some greater force that has brought these two souls across more than a century to be joined as one.”

         Clary’s eyes were glistening. Jace reached into his pocket and offered her what looked like a handkerchief but was more likely a soft cloth for polishing blades. She gave a wry smile of recognition, and sniffled into it.

         “I debated which customs to follow in officiating this wedding,” Magnus went on. “Whether to conduct a Shadowhunter ceremony, or a warlock ceremony, or even a mundane ceremony, for many worlds have been united in the two of you. But none of these traditions seemed quite appropriate on their own. So I’ve attempted to tailor a ceremony that will honor your unique paths.”

         Magnus nodded to Jem, who reached into his pocket and produced a gold ring. Jem had requested a single word etched around the outside of it: Mizpah.

         “It has been said,” said Magnus, “that when two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze. Theresa Gray, are you at one with James Carstairs in your inmost heart?”

         Tessa’s eyes were wide, her face serious as she gazed at Jem. “I am,” she said, offering her hand to him. He slid the ring onto her finger.

         The Magnus nodded at Tessa, who produced another ring, this one from thin air. Magnus had to suppress the grin that threatened to break his calm officiant expression. It delighted him that Tessa was engaging in a small amount of oneiromancy herself, and Jem looked as pleased by it as Magnus felt. This ring was the exact match of the first, and he knew what it said as well: May the Angel watch between me and thee when we are absent from one another.

         “James Carstairs—Ke Jian Ming—are you at one with Theresa Gray in your inmost heart?”

         “I am,” Jem said, delight visible in his dark eyes. Tessa put the ring on him, and they stood for a moment, holding hands and smiling at each other like they couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

         “For I am persuaded,” said Magnus, and Jem and Tessa both looked up at him, recognizing a piece of the old Shadowhunter wedding ceremony, though he had altered the wording, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate these two.” He stretched out his arms. “Therefore I am overjoyed to declare this marriage consecrated, here in the presence of your friends and family. Tessa Gray and Jem Carstairs, you are married, and the world is better for it. You may kiss each other, not that you really need my permission.”

         The assembled crowd cheered as Jem and Tessa kissed, a kiss that had been long delayed. The kiss continued, and Magnus slowly backed away, joining the cheering audience. “Let’s give them a moment,” he said, and happy chatter swelled around him.

         Magnus noted that Alec was looking very foxy in his Armani suit, laughing with Maryse. Ragnor and Catarina were cackling over something, glad to be reunited now that Ragnor didn’t have to pretend to be dead—or at least, didn’t have to pretend with them. Clary had her arm draped over Emma’s shoulders, and Jace was arguing with Simon about how to properly tie a necktie. Tiberius and Drusilla were watching this argument as though it were a tennis match. Julian had lifted Octavian up so he could look down at the river flowing by beneath. Isabelle was joking with Livia, who was giving Max a piggyback ride. It was a miraculously good wedding.

         Here they were, his friends. They’d literally gone into Hell twice with him now. He found himself reflecting on how much had changed. At first his life had felt like Magnus against the world. Then for years and years it had been Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor against the world. Now his community was a much larger group, one that had spread wide enough that instead of Magnus and his friends against the world, it felt like Magnus and his friends, a part of the world. Probably the best part of the world.

         It was a good feeling.

         “Look!” a girl’s voice cried. It was Drusilla, pointing up into the sky, eyes wide with wonder. There was a collective gasp as the crowd saw what she had spotted. Two figures flew overhead, riding a translucent white stallion with two gold hooves and two silver. One of them was a blond boy in ragged clothes, who looked down at the Blackthorns and waved. The figure in front of him was harder to make out—a gentry faerie in clothes just as ragged, only he was as translucent as the horse. The blond boy must be Mark Blackthorn, Magnus marveled. He’d “invited” the whole family, not knowing whether those who rode with the Wild Hunt could be summoned by dream magic. He had his answer, but it came with another mystery. Who was this companion, so close to Mark that they would appear together in a dream?

         The riders made a circle overhead, while the Blackthorns shouted and waved, and Mark waved back, smiling an odd smile down at them. Then they faded away into the morning air.

         Magnus saw with relief that Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, and Alec had all move in around the Blackthorn kids, giving them an opportunity to talk about what they had just seen—their stolen brother, visiting so briefly.

         He glanced over and saw Tessa and Jem still standing by the railing. There was a shimmer beside them, at the edge of the bridge, and the hair on the back of Magnus’s neck rose.

         He knew Will Herondale had never haunted the moral world, because he had lived and died happily and had no unfinished business among the living. While Magnus didn’t subscribe to any specific set of beliefs about reincarnation or the afterlife, he had always had a strong sense that Will was waiting on the other bank of a dark river—be it Lethe, or some other border between the living and the dead. He was there among the green grass, the sky above as dark a blue as his eyes, waiting patiently for Jem and Tessa to join him, that he might lead them by the hand to whatever wonders lay beyond the veil.

         The philosophers of ancient Greece had believed dreams and sleep to be the twin of death: Morpheus and Hades, standing side by side. And here, in that space, Magnus would not have been surprised if Will stretched out his hand to those he had loved best in life—to Jem and Tessa.

         He was, after all, a Herondale, and very stubborn.

         Alec sidled up to Magnus, leaving the Blackthorns in the capable hands of his siblings and their partners. The kids seemed to have taken Mark’s appearance as a sort of wedding favor created especially for them.

         Alec twinned an arm around Magnus’s waist and pulled him close, kissing him on the temple. “It was very kind of you to use the last of your Svefnthorn magic on this,” he said.

         Magnus leaned into Alec. “Well, it wasn’t enough magic to send us to the moon, or get us into the front row at the Alexander McQueen runway. So I figured, next best thing.”

         Alec smiled at him pointedly. “Actually, I happen to know that you did it because you are an incredibly kind person, and that is one of the many things I love about you.”

         “Oh dear,” Magnus said, turning to face him. “You know all my secrets.”

         Then they were kissing, and kissing in a magical dream turned out to be just as perfect as kissing in the waking world.

[the-cheese-writes]

Makeover ~ Prinxiety

TW: Deadnaming, transphobia, mentions of dysphoria, one use of bad language

Word count: 3148

A/N:

Virgil is mtf and lesbian and Roman is now a girl called Rowan :3

Hope you enjoy this fluffy fic that was actually inspired by a scene from Burlesque.

~ Bre

----------

“Virgil! Can you help your father with something please?” Cringing at her deadname, Vera closed her notebook and stashed it away before calling back to her mother.

“Coming mum!” When she got downstairs, she saw her dad holding up a shelf on the wall and holding out a screwdriver for her.

“Virgil!” She cringed again. “There you are. Come help me with this,” her father said. Taking the screwdriver, she grabbed a few nails from the box and screwed them into place, twisting firmly until they were secure.

Stepping back, she smiled a little at her dad and handed back the tool. “Thanks son. You seem to know the basics, which is great! Diy skills are a great trait to have in a husband. Whoever your wife will be one day will be happy.”

Though she was crying inside, Vera nodded and plastered the best smile she could for her parents before turning around and quickly heading back up to her room. She was on the brink of tears and as soon as she closed her door, she broke down, feeling an overwhelming wave of discomfort and utter hatred for herself and her body wash over her.

Her parents would never understand. How could they? They were cisgender heterosexuals; they could never fully understand the dysphoria people like her had. How damaging it was, how detrimental it could be to her and her mental health and how pronouns were so much bigger and meaningful than mere words.

Knowing she couldn’t take this alone, Vera texted her best friend, Rowan and asked if she could come over. Within seconds, she got a reply and Rowan, being the gracious princess of a girl she was, said that she could.

Grabbing her hoodie, Vera made her way down and out the door, telling her parents where she was going before she left.

“Mum, Dad, I’m going to Rowan’s,” she said as she grabbed her keys from the shelf.

“Okay sweetie! See you later,” her mum replied. For a moment, Vera thought she had survived and quietly exhaled relievedly. But unfortunately, her satisfaction didn’t last long.

“Bye son!” She heard her father call just before she fully closed the door. 

And that tipped the scale. 

A waterfall of silent tears plummeted down her face as all her pent up feelings of bitterness and disdain crashed down with them. She sobbed soundlessly through the streets all the way to Rowan’s house, her hood hiding her face and tears from everyone who passed.

Those who gave her a small look, whether it be from sympathy or disgust, didn’t bother talking to her, but that was just as well, because she couldn’t deal with social interaction at that moment. All she cared about was reaching Rowan because, as far as she was concerned, she was the only person who would be able to comfort her and know what to do.

Vera considered knocking at the front door, but then she realised that Rowan’s parents might be home, and she definitely didn’t want them seeing her in her ruined state. So she climbed in through the window, as she usually did, because if you don’t go into your best friend’s home through the window, are you guys even best friends?

Hearing rustling outside, Rowan smirked and turned around on her chair after she heard her window open.

“Really? Coming in through the window? Why did you need to put in all that effort when you could have just simply walked through the door…” Rowan’s voice trailed off once she saw Vera’s tear stained cheeks and messy hair through her purple plaid-pattern patched hood.

“Virgil?” She instantly ran forward and hugged her.

Vera knew she meant well, but Rowan accidentally deadnaming her only brought forward more tears to the table and she broke down in her friend’s arms.

They sank to the floor, Rowan holding her the whole time and when they eventually pulled away from the hug, Rowan took Vera’s hands in her own and lowered her hood.

“Hey, hey,” Rowan said softly, rubbing the back of Vera’s hands with her thumb, then wiping away a few tears from her cheeks. “What’s wrong hun?”

Looking down at their hands, Vera stared at them and blushed a bit at the feeling of Rowan’s gentle, ever-comforting touch on her skin. She gazed up at the gorgeous girl in front of her and shook like a leaf as she considered telling her best friend her biggest secret.

Revealing to Rowan what Vera had been wanting to tell her for so long could potentially put a strain on their friendship and Vera had such a strong bond with Rowan - she didn’t want to lose it. But she figured that one day, Rowan would find out the truth, so why not now, when they were in their teen years and could still live life to the fullest?

“I…” Vera began and Rowan leaned in in anticipation. “I was… deadnamed.” Holding her breath, Vera anxiously glanced up at her friend through her bangs. Rowan’s expression was unreadable at first, but then a confused look was painted across her face.

“Deadnamed… but that’s what happens when-” she mumbled, then cut herself off, realising what Vera had just told her. She stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you saying that… that-”

Vera nodded, bucket loads of tears springing through her eyes. “I’m trans.”

She cried into her palms and braced herself for the worst, knowing what Rowan’s reaction would be.

‘You’re trans? How can you be trans? You were born a boy so you’ll stay a boy.”

“Trans? But you’re 16 you’re just confused. Give it a few more years you’ll grow out of it,”

“Are you sure you aren’t just interested in girl stuff?”

“How can you expect me to just suddenly use these pronouns for you now? Do you know how hard that is?”

She would be just like her parents and then she would lose everyone. Her loved ones, her friends and most likely her home. Frantic thoughts churned around her mind as she quietly cried.

‘I’ll be homeless, unloved, forgotten, discarded, abandoned I’ll never-’

A pair of warm arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her in for a kind embrace, halting her train of worries. Weeping into her friend’s shoulder, Vera allowed Rowan to hold her, stroke her hair and comfort her, washing away all her negative thoughts with a single touch.

“I’m so sorry I deadnamed you. You’re no more different to me than you were before. I still see you and view you exactly the same,” said Rowan in a soft voice, calming Vera’s frenzied nerves. “You’re my best friend and I’d never trade for even the biggest diamond in the world, even though that’s already you.”

Taking Vera’s face in her hands, Rowan wiped away more tears from her cheeks and this time, they finally stopped falling. There was a beat of silence. Vera hung her head and steadied herself and her breathing.

“Do you have a new name?” asked Rowan after she saw Vera compose herself.

“Yeah,” she answered, fidgeting with her hands. “It’s Vera.”

Rowan gasped and smiled, placing a hand to her chest. “Girl, that’s a gorgeous choice.”

Hearing Rowan nickname her ‘Girl’ sparked a new and welcome feeling in Vera. It felt freeing, ecstatic, joyous and her whole soul was more jubilant than it ever had been before.

It’s funny how much one small word can affect a person.

“Thanks,” she beamed. “I wanted to choose something unique and interesting. ‘Vera’ just stood out to me.”

“And it fits you like a glove,” Rowan added almost instantly, without any hesitation. Blushing, Vera looked down and hid her face.

“You can still call me Vee though. I always liked that nickname,” she said, laughing softly.

“Whatever you want, Vera,” said Rowan, smiling and Vera delightfully grinned back. Suddenly, Rowan’s face fell and raised a hand to her cheek. “Oh no. Your concealer and eye shadow’s wiping away…”

“It’s nothing, just makeup I’ll live,” Vera chuckled softly, holding Rowan’s hand on her face.

“Nothing? Nothing?? Makeup is more than just nothing. It makes us feel dazzling, beautiful, stunning and just downright gorgeous.” Raising her hands and moving them flamboyantly, Rowan stood up and walked to her drawers and opened the top one. She seemed to be searching for something, Vera noticed, hearing the rustles and movement.

“Hmm,” Rowan hummed quietly. Vera tilted her head, intrigued.

“What’s up?”

“I’m running low on eyeshadow and other makeup supplies.”

“Wait, didn’t you just buy some new ones 2 months ago?” asked Vera. Rowan just went silent.

“Your point being?” she eventually replied, turning around with her hands on her hips and Vera giggled. Smiling at her laugh, Rowan then grabbed a bag from her chair - that was unsurprisingly already packed - and took her best friend’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Out. I’m giving you a makeover,” Rowan said with a smirk, before pulling Vera out the door with her.

After she grabbed her keys and said goodbye to her parents, the two girls walked to the town centre, discussing Vera’s sense of style along the way. Rowan seemed to understand her preferences and when they arrived at the mall, she got to work straight away buying all the clothes that would look great on her.

“Vee look at this!” Holding up a black skirt, Rowan showed it to her friend, who beamed at the sight of it.

“Ro I love it!” She then lowered it to her waist to measure.

“It seems like it’s your size. Wanna try it on?” All of a sudden, Vera’s anxiety spiked. It was then that she remembered that, though she was a girl, she still looked like a boy to those around her.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean…” she gestured to herself and Rowan’s eyes softened in sympathy. Gently, she held Vera’s shoulders.

“I understand Vee. I’m not gonna ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with yet. We can just try it on back at my place,” she reassured comfortingly in a soft voice, melting Vera’s heart and walls. She blushed and smiled back, then Rowan held up the skirt. “So we’re getting it?” she asked eagerly and Vera nodded.

After around an hour and a half later of shopping, Vera looked down at the three bags they had. They didn’t buy a lot, since she had found a way to reuse most of her old clothes, but purchased a decent amount of new, more feminine clothes. To finish their shopping spree, they were lastly going to buy some makeup for them both.

But Vera felt a little guilty seeing that Rowan had spent all her savings on her. She knew that Rowan wouldn’t want her too, but she couldn’t help it.

“Hey Ro?” Vera said. Rowan hummed in response and turned her head. “I appreciate all of this, I do. But you really didn’t need to bother yourself so much with me-”

“Ahem? Back. The hell. Up.” Rowan suddenly stopped in her tracks and raised her free hand, pointing up her index finger. Vera couldn’t stop the smile etching onto her face from her amusing actions as she turned around to her. (She had stopped a couple steps ahead.) Rowan was always an extravagant queen; Vera didn’t know why she didn’t expect this to happen.

“I very much did need to bother myself with you,” Rowan stated, taking a few paces forward towards her. “This shopping session was to help get your mind off all the current shit happening in your life, since it’s not fair that it’s all happening to you. I’m here to help build your confidence, however I can, and obviously clothes play a big role in it.” She held up the bag she was holding and Vera chuckled. However, her face quickly fell.

“But.. your money-”

“Was well spent. Whatever I was saving up for doesn’t matter anymore and in actual fact I can’t remember what it was, nor do I even care now! All I know is that I spent it well and on a beautiful, gorgeous, caring, sweet girl,” said Rowan, emphasising the word ‘girl’ and making Vera beam. She hugged her friend tighter than she ever had before and when she pulled away, a bold thought suddenly crossed her mind as their eyes met, but she hastily swiped it away.

“Come on.” Rowan took her hand and led her to their last store. “Let’s finish our shopping session.”

***

“Are you done yet?” Rowan called from outside her room. Vera was inside, trying on the clothes they had bought and this was her final outfit. She was so excited to see her new friend in all her gorgeous glory and Vera had teased that this was definitely her favourite clothing combination. Rowan waited impatiently for her, tapping her feet and leaning against the door.

“Almost!”

After around 15 more seconds, Vera finally said, “Alright! You can come in now!” and Rowan wasted no time in opening the door. She gasped and froze in shock and awe.

“Vera… you look so marvellous,” she said, barely any louder than a whisper. Vera had managed to steal her breath away, merely by just standing there.

She wore a purple, oversized printed t-shirt accompanied by the black and white grid skirt they saw earlier. A pair of black lace-up boots sat at her feet and black mesh tights covered her legs, and to top it all off, Vera wore a few silver chains around her neck, accentuating her whole look and a couple of silver earrings too.

To put it simply, Rowan was starstruck.

“Thanks,” Vera said shyly, looking down to hide her burning blush. “I wish my hair was a little longer though.” Blowing a few chocolate strands out of her view, Vera reached up a twirled a couple as Rowan took some steps closer.

“I think you’d look exquisite either way and, to be honest, I kinda prefer this look more with a pixie cut. It suits you,” she said with a sweet smile, which Vera returned.

“Thank you Ro.”

Rowan then pulled her over to her bed and sat her down as she searched in their bags for their newest makeup items. She handed Vera a brush and her concealer and foundation, but Vera pushed them back.

“Actually, can you do it this time? It’s not that I’m uncomfortable or anything, but I just wanted you to do it, “ she said innocently, gazing up with wide eyes. 

“U-uh. Sure. Okay,” Rowan stuttered. Gingerly, she reached up and brushed Vera’s hair out of her face, their eyes momentarily locking, then gave her a headband to wear. “What do you want?” she asked after Vera had put it on.

“Um, I dunno. Surprise me,” Vera winked and Rowan smirked, then set to work.

The two played Disney songs as Rowan worked and sang to their hearts’ content, but occasionally smudged a few aspects of the look in doing so. Rowan didn’t mind though. As long as they were having fun, she didn’t mind if Vera accidentally messed it up a thousand times. As long as she got to see her smile.

When she was finished, Rowan got a mirror and handed it to Vera. “Take a look.” And she did, gasping quietly as she admired her eyeshadow and most of all, her lips. They were a kind of ombre tone - lined black and gradually fading into a subtle burgundy red.

“Jee-muh-nattie Ro, you really outdid yourself here. Colour me impressed!”

“Thanks Vee,” Rowan grinned. “The lipstick should be dry by now.” She then started tidying her things and packing up her brushes and new palette, storing them back in their drawer. Vera was still admiring her appearance in Rowan’s full-body mirror when she finished cleaning up. Truth be told, Rowan loved how much Vera was loving her looks and who she saw in the mirror. It wasn’t every day that she was so confident, and Rowan was so glad to see a shift in her self-esteem.

“You look absolutely stunning, you know,” she complimented as she sat back down on her bed, making Vera’s face instantly flush.

“Thank you Ro, for everything you’ve done for me today,” Vera said as she joined her.

“Ah, it was nothing,” Rowan waved it away, but Vera shook her head.

“No, seriously. You don’t know how much it’s helped me.” She took her friend’s hands in her own. “I don’t know what I would do without you, I’m not sure what I would have done in that moment if you weren’t there to help me. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart Ro, for all you’ve done since day one.”

Tilting her head slightly, Rowan smiled kindly at her best friend, feeling her face heart up the longer she stared. “And thank you for being the incredibly charming little cherub you are!” she replied, booping Vera’s nose and causing her to giggle.

Her expression soon turned to concern however, as she remembered that Vera didn’t actually live with her (unfortunately). “Vera, what are you going to do when you get home? Won’t your parents think spitefully when they see you like this?”

Looking down, Vera furrowed her eyebrows worriedly, all the while grasping Rowan’s hands. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do, because they obviously are too scared to accept me.” Rowan nodded understandably. “But, right now I just want to focus on now, and being here with you and spending the best minutes of my life with you.”

“As do I,” replied Rowan, raising Vera’s knuckles up to her lips and kissing them softly, flustering her.

Then their eyes locked, again, and they lost themselves in each other’s eyes. Suddenly the world was still and quiet, the wind stopped blowing and the room around them faded away. And before they knew it, they were kissing.

It was sweet and juvenile, like them, and their lips moved perfectly together, fitting flawlessly like pieces in a puzzle. Rowan raised a hand to Vera’s cheek, slowly sliding it down to her neck, whilst Vera grabbed her opposition’s waist, pulling her in closer ever-so-gently.

After a couple minutes they pulled away, muted by shock and the butterflies dancing in their stomachs. Rowan was the one to break the silence, laughing breathlessly and grinning, Vera soon doing the same. She hesitantly looked up, their eyes meeting again and Rowan grazed a tender hand on her cheek, which Vera leaned into.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” she said lovingly, completely entranced. “Be my girlfriend?”

“Of course!” Vera replied excitedly, almost instantly and lunged at Rowan, encasing her in a hug but causing them to tumble off the bed and onto the floor in a laughing heap.

[foureyeswithanicesmile]

The white mask.

gender; not specified

sorta slow burn but theres gonna be a part two im sure of it.

Established relationship (sort of)

You and Grayson’s acquaintanceship went far back, the both of you were around for each others various changes and times in life. However things weren’t always so swell. Grayson had always perceived you to be good, in the way he tries to be, in some way, he idolised you for the warped perception he had of you. He made it routine to drop by to your apartment balcony in some way- you had no clue, regardless he was always there- no matter how spontaneous the trip was.

What you both hadn’t known is that you were both fighting each other for weeks, you as ‘gothams newest anti hero’ and him as ‘ Nightwing’. Both of you hadn’t known each others true identities.

You were only known as ‘ The white mask’ to Grayson, and he was only known as ‘ Boy blue’ to you. All this had occurred whilst in reality, you were both more than acquainted already.

What you both hadn’t known is that you were both fighting each other for weeks, you as ‘Gothams newest anti hero’ and him as ‘ Nightwing’. Both of you hadn’t known each others true identities.

You were only known as ‘ The white mask’ to Grayson, and he was only known as ‘ Boy blue’ to you. All this had occurred whilst in reality, you were both more than acquainted already.

———————————————————————————————————

“ Hey- you home?” Grayson asked whilst he straightened up his black sweater and jeans, doing the best he could in order not to look suspicious.

“ Well- look who’s stumbled onto my doorstep again” You greeted, hair tied into a low bun with your glasses perched onto your nose as you did. Whilst Grayson was aware of how late it was, he hadn’t been expected to bestow his eyes upon a tight black vest and red plaid pyjama pants.

Now coughing and refocusing his attention back to you, he then realised that you had a new silver ball in a part of your ear cartilage. With furrowed brows he began to scan you again, now trying to see if he could find any other new piercings.

“ Eyes up here Grayson- you looking at my helix?” You asked with a smirk, now closing your balcony door so that no heating could escape the living room.

“ Yeah- when’d you get it? I like it” He complimented, now confidently turning your head with your chin in order to analyse it.

“ I got it yesterday” You announced, now moving Grayson’s hand in order to prevent him getting bacteria into it- you noticing the bruising on his knuckles in the process.

“ Dick Graysonn” You elongated as if he was guilty of something. Slightly anxious, he answered.

“ What’s wrong?” He asked as he looked down at your hands checking out his.

“ What on earth did you do to your hands? Beat up a wall or some shit?” You laughed, now releasing the larger pair of hands from your grasp; Noticing the slightly panicked face of the man in front of you.

“ Nothing- Just got into it a little on the way here” Grayson announced, now shoving his hands into his back pockets with a slight pout.

“ Wow- how strong, came here to rescue me from my shitty lanlord?” You spoke with a sarcastic tone, your eyes almost piercing into Graysons.

“ Why of course- how did you know?” He spoke with a mirroring tone, his face then wearing a less happier tone as he checked his phone, you picking up on it.

“ Hey- you alright? You seem off- almost dishevelled” You wondered truthfully, frowning at Grayson’s lack of eye contact initiation.

“ Whatever you do- Don’t become acquainted with anybody with a white mask- I know they’re only going after people who’ve wronged others- but we don’t know when those motives will change okay?”

You deadpanned in realisation. He was talking about you. The only bright side was that he had no clue that it was you. Only information about you that was so important he had to run off so soon.

“ Grayson do me a favour” You spoke in a slightly serious tone, unwanting to attract suspicion.

Your tone perked Grayson’s attention just enough for your eye contact to freeze him in his place.

“ Stay out of those kind of affairs. It’ll do you good to not get caught in the crossfire- you understand?”

Your words caused him to stiffen more, he doesn’t want you getting hurt.

“ I promise you alright- be safe and see you tomorrow” He finalised before kissing your cheek and ushering you back into your house.

Fuck knows how you were going to wriggle out of this one.

——————————————————————————————————-

Around a week later, you’d found yourself in a heated fight against the boy in blue, which consisted of you both getting good ass hits on one another.

You thought you hand enough skill to shoot him quickly and return back to your apartment before Grayson had decided to pop over, however after wasting all of your bullets on shots that never connected; you could only hope that you’d get to paralyse boy blue.

Just like you, Grayson had wanted to find himself on your balcony sooner or later, only hoping that you don’t believe his lateness is his attempt at showing disinterest.

Seeing as though Nightwing believed that you still had your bullets, he’d decided to hide behind one of the large air ventilations on top on the rooftop you were both on.

“ Come out boy blue- you fucking pussy” You insulted, feeling slightly exposed at the fact he could be anywhere.

“ My name” He spoke as he kicked one of your two guns out of your hand.

“ Is Nightwing” He finalised before he attempted to kick you in the solar plexus- you luckily sliding under his leg and gun-butting him with your other empty pistol- certainly leaving a cut on his cheek.

Even with that, his cascade of kicks, throws and punches never failed in tempo, even whilst you parried most- there was no telling if you’d make this without any noticeable injuries.

After trying to throw you into the back of a ventilation system, he only sprung your momentum; You now sprinting over to him and kicking him into the lower abdomen, consequently faltering his stance.

In almost milliseconds after, you had him in a sleep-impending head lock, now wrapping your legs around his torso agonisingly tight. You did so in full belief that he’d drop to his knees finally submitting, however he only dropped to his knees so that he could grab one of his electric batons- now aiming it into your back. The shock caused you to gasp and drop onto your back, now attempting to crawl to the edge of the building whilst Nightwing remained regathering himself.

“ You aren’t running away that quickly” He spoke in breaths, now beginning to walk over to you thinking that the height would be too much to drop from.

He was wrong.

Before Nightwing had the opportunity to rip the white mask off of you, you kicked him into the nose perfectly timed with him leaning down to unmask you.

“ No-No” He almost pleaded before you back-rolled off of the building, now falling legs first before falling on-top of a vintage red BMW- the glass cracking and top denting with the force.

Nighwing peered over the edge in utter disbelief; what was so important about your identity that you’d go as far as to kill yourself? Did he perhaps know you? Where you already presumed dead like Jason before his rise as Red Hood?

All those questions and thoughts were disrupted when he checked the time. 23:25. He would’ve been at your doorstep around twenty minutes ago if it hadn’t been for this shit.

Rushingly, he ran and jumped across rooftops in order to return to his own place before going to yours; only praying you’d still be up.

———————————————————————————————————

You were actually groaning in pain and rolling yourself off the car just a few feet down. Whilst the car wasn’t the most efficient cushion of your fall, it was better than falling onto the cold Gotham concrete, which would’ve been painted red with your blood.

You surprisingly prepared for this moment, keeping your suit padded with enough material to not break your ribs when falling off of a building.

___________________________________

Luckily, you found yourself at your apartment in no time, most probably due to your knowing of short cuts and you stealing a motorbike.

In the time you no longer had to worry about Nightwing on your tail, you managed to shower and ice your wounds. Displeased with the aching pain your back wore from both electrocution and the car from earlier.

Your worries were disrupted by a familiar knocking on your balcony door, sighing at the arrival almost.

“ Well hey there Grayson- later than usual” You almost joked, demeanour stiffening when you observed Grayson’s evident frown and shaking hands. For a moment you were consumed with the theory that he knew you were the ‘white mask’ that roamed the streets at night.

“ Tell me about it inside- how do you like your coffee Dick?” You asked comfortingly as you ushered him inside, now analysing the room in order to prevent any evidence of being shown. Seeing as though Dick was a detective, your cautiousness had to be on point.

However he seemed awfully down, like he’d just witnessed his parents die,, again.

“ I take it strong- thanks” He answered after many moments, his voice low as his head rested in his hand whilst he sat on your couch. Now you were lost, you had genuinely no clue as to what may have upset Dick- and this made you worry.

As the coffee brewed in your kitchen, you sat next the brunette, ushering a hand onto his knee.

“ What’s wrong Dick- you don’t seem like yourself tonight- I do somethin’?” You asked, now lifting his head with your hand on his chin; his cheek wearing a small band-aid.

“ You were right about staying away from the white mask”

Thank. God. For a moment you almost thought you were going to be discovered and sent to prison.

“ They died tonight”

You died? where’d that analogy come from? Did he see you throw yourself off that building?

“ Oh Grayson- did you see it?” You asked attentively, your brain both relieved and worried about the position you were in.

“ A-“

He struggled noticeably, a detail you picked up on almost immediately.

“ A friend did” He affirmed after a while, your brows furrowing more at his words.

In order not to seem non-empathetic or suspicious, you made endearing eye contact.

He was hung up on every word, every glance. As much as you were hung up on him; you valued your safety all in all, god knows what could happen to you- and even him if your identity got out.

What you didn’t know is that Grayson felt the same way.

“ I wanted to-help them- maybe try to get them to co operate with my associates you know? Death isn’t justified- especially when they were providing some-what justice” Grayson affirmed.

“ So you thought you could help them? Haven’t they hurt your friend?”

That wasn’t revealed yet.

“ Or at least- I’m assuming” You added on quickly, now pacing to your kitchen counter in order to grab Grayson’s cup of coffee.

“ They’ve hurt me you know that?”

You stiffened. Not once have you recalled seeing- or hurting Grayson whilst in ‘ uniform’.

“ I ran into them- tonight- it was why i was so late” He affirmed from his position on the couch, your lips now agape at the realisation.

Dick Grayson was Boy Blue. Mr Grayson, who steps onto your balcony basically every night was the man you’ve been attempting to kill in attempt to get him off of your case. Awful was an understatement in terms of your feelings.

“ Are you alright?” He finally asked after moments of contemplation, now turning from his position on your sage coloured couch, observing your almost lifeless stance.

“ Grayson” You almost sighed, carefully placing the mug into his bloody-knuckled hands, most presumably from the time you got him to punch a brick wall as you dodged him.

“ I’m sorry man” You breathed once again, body tensing as you braced yourself.

“ Sorry for what? You don’t have anything to be remotely sorry for”. His words were sincere, caring even, only worsening the affects of this entire situation.

“ I am the white mask”.

[ellewritesathing]

You’re My Problem

Summary: What happens when you take unrequited love, throw in some jealousy, and add a dash of impulsivity? You get a recipe for disaster.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: this was requested by @i-write-things-sometimes-x​ a forever ago. thank you for being so patient and i’m so sorry it took so long for me to write this!! 💕

Stiles’ Stilinski was a dumbass. He was impulsive, he was reckless, and he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Lydia Martin for longer than five minutes. But he was also the one who brought you soup when you were sick, the one who remembered your birthday, and the one you’d been in love with since before you could remember. 

He’d been oblivious to all your attempts of getting him to see you as something other than a friend pretty much for as long as you’d known him. Erica thought it was hilarious, and she never let you live down the mouth-to-mouth debacle after he’d almost drowned with the kanima venom. She’d been nicer about it, though, since Lydia and Stiles had their own moment of panic-induced lip-locking. 

But it wasn’t just Erica that changed - everything was different after their kiss. As dramatic as your reaction seemed when you looked back on it, something inside you snapped that day, and all of your pent-up rage from being powerless in a town of supernaturals bubbled to the surface. You convinced Derek to turn you, and things between you, Stiles, and Scott had never been the same. 

“And here I thought you came to lacrosse practice for me.” Isaac set down his gear with a grin and grabbed your water bottle. The light caught on his eyelashes as he drank, painting delicate ribbons down his cheeks as long as his chin was tilted up to the sky.

Erica didn’t care about how pretty Isaac could be, because she didn’t find him nearly as pretty as the lacrosse players packing up on the field. She rolled her eyes and pushed Isaac to the side, not bothering to adjust her strength in the process. “Move over, lover boy. You’re blocking my view.” 

Armed with an evil grin and the knowledge that Erica couldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people, Isaac moved directly in front of her and tilted his head. “Didn’t Derek tell you to be nicer to people?” 

“Derek also told me not to smother you in your sleep, so-” Erica reached forward, hand extended almost as gently as to move one of his curls out of his face, and shoved him to the ground “-you better watch out.” She drummed her fingers on the bleachers with an evil smile of her own before jumping up to follow one of the lacrosse boys off the field. 

Laughing off Erica’s dramatics and shaking your head, you got up and held a hand out to help Isaac to his feet. “Come on.” You waved your fingers when he didn’t reach out. “You stink and the sooner you shower, the sooner I get lunch.” 

“Yeah?” Isaac reached up for your hand and leaned on his other elbow for support. “That kinda sucks for you.” 

It was your own fault for not noticing the glint of mischief in his eye before he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the ground next to him. Soon enough, the two of you were rolling around the field (you trying to get up and him ruining every attempt) and laughing just like you always did. Your hands were barely intertwined, but it was still enough to feel his pulse racing. 

“Are you two done? Because Coach is gonna turn on the sprinklers in like five minutes.” 

Your heartbeat shot up at the sound of Stiles’ voice. Clumsily, you untangled yourself from Isaac and sat up. It didn’t matter whether you were human or superhuman, facing a cute boy or the monster of the week, nothing made you more nervous than Stiles Stilinski. “Yeah, we were just- uh, just leaving to grab some lunch. You wanna come with?” 

“Thanks, but I kinda lost my appetite.” Stiles waited an awkward moment and then shrugged, rolled his lacrosse stick over in his hand, and started walking away. The faded number 24 bobbed up and down as he walked away from you, like a boat treading very uncertain waters.

You let out a deep breath and hid your head in your hands. It didn’t matter what you did, conversations with Stiles always ended awkwardly or with one of you leaving. At least this way, you couldn’t see the embarrassing aftermath.

“Oh, come on-” Isaac knocked your knee with his, letting out a laugh. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes before you turned to face him. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“He hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you.” 

“Ever since I turned, it’s like he can’t even bear to look at me.” 

“And you are so hard to look at,” Isaac said with a grin. He rolled his eyes again and let out a low laugh. If he was going to say anything else about your massively mortifying crush on Stiles Stilinski, he didn’t get the chance. The sprinklers switched on.

---

You were a real pain in the ass. You were annoyingly right about everything, you always had to get your own way, and you could barely focus on anything that wasn’t Isaac Lahey for longer than five minutes. But you were also the one that watched Star Wars with him when he couldn’t sleep, the one that saved him a seat in English, and the one Stiles had been in love with since before he could remember. 

Even after the world went to hell in a handbasket, Stiles thought he might have had a shot with you. All he had to do was find the right time to talk to you - and it seemed like the perfect time after you saved him from drowning - but he waited too long. Somehow something always came around to ruin his perfect moment. Eventually, you turned and traded him in for the one and only Isaac ‘Pretentious Asshole’ Lahey.

In the understatement of the century, Scott said, “Dude, you should just talk to her,” in that aggravatingly optimistic way of his. 

“Yeah? I should just talk to her, and tell her that I love her, and then maybe we’ll just walk off into the sunset like a Julia Roberts movie?” Stiles was robbed of the satisfaction of his snark by Scott’s dumbstruck face. “Oh my god, what is it now? What’s with the face?” 

Scott scrunched up his face and pulled on the straps of his backpack. He rocked on his heels defensively. “I don’t have a face.”

“You totally have a face, okay?” Stiles waved his hand in front of Scott’s face. “This right here is the face you make when it’s tater tot day.”

Scott shrugged and tried to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just-” He took a deep breath, leaned in, and said, “You just said that you love her. That’s all.” With another trademark Scott McCall shrug and smile, he started walking off to make his English class before the second bell.

“Well…” Stiles said to an empty hallway. He let out a heavy sigh and slammed his locker. “Shit.” 

---

You’d spent your entire life pining over Stiles Stilinski. All those years wasted on a guy who didn’t have feelings for you, when there was a perfectly sweet distraction right next to him. Sure, maybe Isaac didn’t know your favorite movie candy and he didn’t always know the right thing to say when you were having a bad day, but he snuck you out of detention and he didn’t make you so tongue-tied that you couldn’t speak in complete sentences. 

Isaac was fun. He made you feel witty. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was fun.

This night was the closest to perfect you’d had in a long time: Lydia’s epic homecoming party. There were copious amounts of alcohol and scarce supervision, you and Isaac were dancing, and the full moon wasn’t for another week. It was as perfect as you were ever going to get … and yet you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Stiles. 

Outright staring at him would have been preferable, but he had been glowering at you ever since Isaac, Erica, and Boyd showed up. If you didn’t want to see the look of annoyance that was almost permanently on his face when it came to you, then stealing glances would have to be enough. 

It was a shame, though, because there was something so magnetic about him tonight. Maybe it was the effortlessness that made him attractive. He was slightly overdue for a haircut, so he was dragging a hand through it every other minute in that nervous way of his. Even though his plaid was one of the too big ones Noah had bought for Christmas a few years ago, his t-shirt was one from the older collection that he was in the process of outgrowing. Disheveled suited him; he was almost perfect. If the annoyed look on his face would disappear, so would the ‘almost.’

Isaac ducked his head down to speak to you over the blare of the music, lip grazing your ear as he spoke. “You’re doing that thing again.” 

“What thing?” you asked, trying to brighten up when you looked up at him. You should have tried harder, but dancing with Isaac and being witty wasn’t a priority when Stiles was so mad at you. 

The corners of Isaac’s mouth curled up and he tilted his head to the side. You knew that Stiles was the thing, even if he didn’t say it while he twirled you out.

Isaac pulled you in slightly too quickly, so you collapsed into him more than anything else. The two of you were still laughing and cracking jokes about super-healing when you caught a glimpse of Stiles angrily swigging what was left of a beer and disappearing into the house. 

For a moment, all the sweaty teens and bright lights faded away. You untangled yourself from Isaac quickly and clumsily before rushing out an “I gotta go” and pushing your way through the crowd. 

It was easier to breathe when you reached the second floor without so many people around. The only problem was that all the air disappeared the moment you were alone with Stiles. It was the first time in months that you’d spent any time alone together, and the fact that he was more than a little tipsy wasn’t making things any easier. 

Still, you followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. “Hey, Stiles, are you doing okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, I’m just peachy.” Stiles dropped the necklace he was fiddling with and brushed his nose with his thumb. “Perfect. Nothing to complain about, you know? At least no one’s trying to kill me this week.” 

“Sounds like maybe you should be celebrating,” you said carefully, trying not to spook him as you made your way over. “You know, instead of hanging out up here, going through Lydia’s great aunt’s jewelry.”

Stiles let out a hollow laugh and turned awkwardly to the jewelry box on the dresser. He shrugged and picked up the necklace again. “But it’s so shiny and I’m so awkward,” he whined. 

You took a few steps closer to take the necklace out of his hands before he broke the clasp. “You’re not awkward.” Stiles gave you a sideways look and you laughed. “Okay, maybe you’re a little awkward, but it’s an endearing kind of awkward.” 

Stiles stubbornly refused to give you the necklace without a fight, and the chain was caught in the crossfire. The both of you panicked and scrambled to fix it, but this wasn’t the kind of necklace that two teenagers and a pair of tweezers could fix. 

Stiles gave up struggling over the necklace and let out a heavy sigh, hand curling over one half of the broken chain and the bathroom sink. The necklace had been the only thing keeping the weight of the world off his shoulders - the only thing keeping Stiles tipsy and happy instead of almost drunk and kind of sad. “Just forget it,” he said. His voice was raw. “No amount of trying is gonna fix it.” 

“Don’t say that.” You grabbed Stiles’ half of the chain out of his hand and put it next to the other half on the counter. Willing the chains to fuse back together and decidedly not looking at Stiles, you said, “You can’t just give up like that.” 

“Why not? The necklace is broken and I broke it. I can’t fix it.” 

“You can at least try to fix it.” 

“Maybe it doesn’t wanna be fixed. Maybe it’s happier with the stupid scarf, alright?” 

“Wait, what scarf?” When he didn’t answer, you looked up from the necklace to find him staring guiltily at the floor. “Stiles, please don’t tell me there’s some ruined Hermes scarf up here because Lydia will kill me.” 

Still no answer. 

As gently as you could, you reached out to touch his shoulder. “Stiles-”

“Just forget it!” Stiles snapped, pulling away before you could touch him. He almost crashed into the door in his hurry to get away from you. “Go dance with your scarf, okay? You two deserve one another.” 

Stiles stormed into the bedroom, and you stormed after him. You caught his arm before he even made it halfway across the room. “Okay, man, what the hell is your problem?” 

“My problem?” Stiles echoed. “You wanna know what my problem is?” 

“Yes! You’ve been glaring at me all night, avoiding me for like six months, and- what? Now you’re freaking out over a broken necklace?” You took a step closer to him, pulse racing. “So, what’s your problem?” 

“Okay, you know what? You’re my problem.” Stiles was so close that you didn’t need werewolf superpowers to feel all the emotions coming off him. “We were best friends until you ditched me for Isaac Freaking Lahey, okay? We used to hang out like all the time, and now we barely spend any time together unless someone’s trying to kill us. And you’re impossible to talk to-” 

“I’m impossible to talk to?” you echoed. “Stiles, you cringe every time you see me.” 

“I do not!” he said defensively, scrunching his face slightly. “Okay, maybe I do but that’s because whenever I see you, Isaac’s following you around like a puppy dog.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. The puppy comment was a cheap shot and it wasn’t like Stiles could complain when he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t have feelings for you. “So is your problem actually with me? Because so far all you’ve done is talk about Isaac.” 

“I don’t- it’s both of you, alright?” Stiles let out a shaky breath and looked away. He took a second to run a hand down the side of his face before speaking again. “My problem is that I have feelings for you and you don’t even know I exist anymore.” 

No amount of accelerated werewolf reflexes could have prepared you for that. For a second, you were too surprised to respond. “You … have feelings for me? I thought you were in love with Lydia.” 

Stiles snorted. “Please, she kissed me once and it was terrible for both of us.” He shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say while you adjusted to the information. “Besides,” he said in a much slower, much quieter voice, “it’s not like she’s you.”

“Isaac hates Star Wars,” you said quietly, staring at the bullseye in the middle of Stiles’ shirt instead of meeting his eyes.

“God, I hate that guy,” Stiles mumbled. He looked around the room awkwardly before landing on the tv in the corner. “You wanna, uh, watch something with me? I really don’t want to go back down there.”

You nodded without giving it any thought, looking up at Stiles and giving him the first real smile you’d had all night. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” Stiles gave a short laugh before slowing his breathing and looking at you so seriously that you thought your heart would stop. “Just, uh, one more thing?” he asked, voice quiet and delicate again. You started rambling, but the words fell away as soon as Stiles lifted his hands to either side of your face. The whole world slowed for a moment, coming almost to a complete stand-still when he pressed his lips against yours. “There,” Stiles said softly. “I’ve been thinking about that since freshman year.”

Despite all the anxiety racing through your system, or maybe because of it, you laughed. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as you reached a hand up to the side of Stiles’ neck. Time slowed again as you leaned up on your toes, kissed him again, and realized that maybe this night was perfect after all. 

[theladyofdeath]

The Ranch {10}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: enjoy!

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian threw open the closet in the bedroom of his cabin. Sure, he’d spent quite a bit of time on minuscule dates and hanging out at the bar through the years, but it had been a while since he’d taken a woman out on a proper date.

And here he was, about to take Nesta, a fucking gourmet chef, to dinner. With an hour before he was supposed to “pick her up”, he still had no idea where they were going. He’d run through the list of restaurants in their little town a hundred times through his head as he went through his work that day, but none of them seemed good enough.

What also didn’t seem good enough were the shirts he was staring at. Maybe he’d just stay in what he was already wearing - the towel around his waist. She seemed to prefer him in such, anyways, considering the night they had spent together the day before.

And what a damn fantastic night it had been.

No, Cassian wanted their date to be perfect.

Once again, he stared at the line of shirts hanging in his closet.

He groaned and dragged his hand down his face before he walked across the room and texted Elain.

You busy?

He waited a minute, no reply to his text, and he was both impatient and short on time.

So he called her.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to text you back and tell you that I’m not busy?” Her voice was full of laughter as she answered the phone.

“Sort of in a rush and also freaking out,” he said, beginning to pace.

She was instantly on red alert. “What? Why? Are you okay?”

He shook his head, realizing he’d worried her for no reason. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m taking your sister out on a date tonight and I have no idea what to wear.”

He was met with silence on the other line.

“Elain?”

“I’m here, I’m...trying to make sense of what you just said.” She stuttered a second. “You said you’re taking Nesta on a date tonight?”

“Yes.”

“My sister, Nesta?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, with no chill. “And I’m in a hurry.”

“Taking Nesta out makes you cranky,” Elain muttered. “Okay, I’m here, what is it you need?”

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Another stretch of silence. 

Cassian sighed, impatiently. “Elain.”

“Sorry,” she said, tone laced with laughter. “I just...You’re worried about what you’re going to wear?”

“Everything I have looks the same,” he mumbled. 

“Then wear one of your fifty plaid shirts,” she laughed. “And your one pair of nice jeans.”

“Really?” He asked, grabbing one of his more expensive shirts from the closet. “But I wear this every day-.”

“She’s seen you everyday and has she ever had a problem with it?” she interrupted.

“I- No,” he admitted. “What kind of food does she like? I asked her to dinner and then I realized that she’s a chef and that nothing around here would be up to her standards.”

Elain paused, but finally said, “Do you trust me?”

Cassian hesitated, unable to hide the question in his voice. “Usually?”

She chuckled. “I’m going to send you an address. Don’t look it up, just trust me, okay?”

He blinked. Well, it was a better idea than he had. “Okay, sure. Yeah, I won’t look it up.”

Elain squealed. “Yay! Alright, stand by. I’ll text it to you now.”

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lainy, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

He could tell she was being genuine when she said, “Anything I can do to help! You both deserve to be happy, to have someone to cherish you and treat you right.” She sighed. “How’d you convince her to finally go out with you?”

Cassian debated on beating around the bush, but knew their families would find out anyways. “We, uh, sort of hooked up last night.”

Not to his surprise, he was met with more silence.

This time, Cassian waited it out. He put his phone on speaker then dropped his towel.

“And by hooked up, you mean…”

“Sex?” Cassian supplied, pulling on his boxers. “Yeah, and it was-.”

“I don’t wanna know.” The words rushed out of Elain so quickly that Cassian knew her cheeks were turning pink.

Cassian chuckled. “Fine. But, it was nice.”

“Were you drunk?” Elain asked, hesitantly.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No. And she was still there when I woke up this morning, so.”

“Wow, I-.” She paused and repeated, “Wow. You know you’re supposed to take her out before you sleep with her, right?”

“Oh, ha ha.” He said, stepping into his jeans and buttoning them up. His voice was wistful at first. “I can’t help it, I just had to have her. And she actually made the move this time, not me.”

“I still don’t want to know,” she said, laughing. “Have fun, make good choices.”

“I’ll try,” he promised before saying goodbye and tossing the phone onto his bed. A moment later, when he was buttoning up his shirt, her text came through with an address.

He had no idea where she was sending them, and he was almost too scared to look it up, even if he hadn’t promised. After brushing out his hair with his fingers, he tied it at the back of his head and pulled on some socks, then his boots, and sighed.

“Beau!”

Beau came hurrying into the bedroom and up onto the bed, wagging his tail.

“How do I look?” Cassian asked, brows raised.

Beau barked.

“I assume that means you approve. Alright,” he said, grabbing his wallet off his nightstand and shoving it into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t chew up anything...that’s not already chewed up, okay?”

He gave Beau a quick belly rub before strutting toward the front door.

He grabbed his keys and drove over to Nesta’s, hopping out and knocking on her door.

It only took a second for the door to swing open and Cassian’s mouth began to water.

The blue dress she wore was nothing fancy. On the contrary, it was its simplicity that let Nesta’s beauty shine.

Her golden-brown hair was in a simple braid, her brown sandals showing off her painted toenails. A soft pink, the same shade she wore on her full, beautiful lips.

She raised her brows as she said, “You’re staring. You’ve seen me every day for a while now. You can’t stare.”

“I can and I will,” he protested, meeting her eyes. “And it’s not the first time I’ve been caught staring at you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag off the hook by the door. “Where are you taking me?”

She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her as he hesitated. “Uh, it’s a surprise.” To us both.

She laughed quietly but said nothing more as they descended the stairs. Cassian opened the passenger side door and held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it and hauled herself inside. With a chuckle, Cassian closed the door behind her and made his way behind the wheel before making his way down the long driveway.

Once they were out onto the main road, Cassian said, “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t look over at him as a small smile played on those pink lips. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad, either.”

Cassian grinned and turned on the radio, soft music filling the truck. He had already put the address into his GPS, but kept the volume down. He glanced at his phone every few seconds to make sure he was going the right way. The last thing he wanted was for Nesta to ask why he needed directions to know where they were going. What would his reply be? Oh, I called your sister because I was freaking the fuck out, thanks for asking, no big deal.

It was a conversation he wanted to avoid.

“What all did you do today?” he asked. “I didn’t see you around.”

“I was in the main house, prepping for painting,” she said, nodding. “That place needs to be updated before any guests start coming in. So, I taped, covered the carpets in plastic, and moved all furniture to the middle of the floors. Which, I should probably get a few new things there, too. I swear we grew up on shit made in the 1950s.”

Cassian snorted, then looked her direction. “You should’ve asked for help. I could’ve helped with the heavy lifting.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you.”

Cassian shook his head as his eyes went back on the road ahead of him. “Trust me, I know.”

Her amused grin was radiant. “What about you? Any fun ranch stuff today?”

“Ranch stuff?” He chuckled. At her own laughter, he continued, “Nothing too crazy. Mostly made sure there was enough hay left for the horses over the weekend. And checked on Barb. She’ll be having her calf any day.”

“What? Really?” She turned to him. “It’s way too late in the year for calves.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m keeping such a close eye on her.”

His phone lit up, alerting him that they were approaching their destination. He looked around and chuckled, shaking his head. Leave it to Elain.

He pulled into the little parking lot of an old diner. The sign that read The Starlight Diner was lit up in neon lights. He parked in front of the little building before looking at Nesta to see her reaction.

She was staring at the diner before she turned to him. “You talked to my sister, didn’t you?”

Cassian hesitated, and she laughed. “We used to go here all the time,” she said, shaking her head. “I used to love this place. I can’t tell you how many milkshakes I’ve downed within these walls. And the chili cheese fries? I mean, there’s nothing like them.” 

Cassian had been to the diner before, but not since high school. It used to be a popular hangout, one they went to after they won a big game or smoked too much pot under the bleachers.

“So you’re telling me,” Cassian began, turning off the engine. “That a woman who became a famous chef in Paris likes to go to ancient diners and drink milkshakes and eat chili-cheese fries?”

“Yes,” she said, simply. Then she smiled, softly. “Shall we?”

Cassian, completely speechless and a little bit turned on, opened his door and met her on her side of the truck as she got out. They went inside and sat at a table by the window. Old music was playing and waitresses were going about their business on roller skates. 

“So, I assume you already know what you want,” Cassian began, flipping open his menu. “And I assume it’s more than a milkshake and chili-cheese fries.”

Nesta was glancing around the restaurant, looking for someone or something, but she didn’t miss a beat when she answered. “Bacon cheeseburger, with extra pickles, chili-cheese fries, vanilla milkshake, with no cherry, and a water.”

He raised an eyebrow, and let his menu fall shut. “I know what I’m ordering.” She laughed and he felt like his heart was going to burst. The sound of her laughter was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. “So why no cherry? Are allergic, or what?”

She scrunched her nose as she moved the silverware around in front of her. “I used to drink the Shirley Temples made with the cheap grenadine. You know the one that’s pretty much just cherry snow-cone syrup?”

Their server came to the table at that moment and took their drink order. They both know what they wanted, but neither was in a rush. She promised to return with their waters and to get their food order in just a moment and they fell right back into conversation.

“Long story short, one night we went to dinner and I had four or five of them.” She laughed and shook her head. “Neither mom or dad noticed how many I’d had, which was awesome to me. I was only allowed to have two before I had to switch to water. When we got home, I got so, so sick. They freaked out because it was dark red and they thought I was bleeding internally.” She began laughing even harder. “Neither of them told me that was what they were worried about, and I wasn’t about to tell on myself. They took me to the hospital and I finally told one of the nurses. Nineteen years and a sixteen hundred dollar hospital bill later, and I hate cherry and cherry flavoring now.”

Cassian just stared at her, barely registering when the waitress came back and gave them their waters. And then he began howling.

The waitress looked at him like he was crazy and mumbled that she’d be back in just a minute for their orders.

“So you were a rebellious child,” Cassian said, laughter dying down but his smile remaining.

“Considering that’s the most rebellious thing I’d ever done, I’d say not,” Nesta said, chuckling. “No, Feyre was the rebellious one, which I’m sure you already know. Elain was the perfect one. And I….I don’t know. I was just there.”

“That’s impossible,” Cassian said. “Give yourself a little more credit.”

She shrugged, and a shadowy look crossed her face that had Cassian clearing his throat. “Well, you didn’t miss out on rebellion. Coming from someone who landed himself in the local jail fifteen times his senior year in high school, alone.”

That look in Nesta’s eyes faded as she shook her head, humored. “Fifteen times? In under a year?”

“Yeah, I swear at some point the cops just started following me when they were bored until I did something they could call me out on,” he laughed. It was a little town. The crime rate was low. “Shoplifting a few times. Mostly underage drinking. One time they caught me peeing into the dumpster behind the corner market. Which, I was drunk then, too….Actually, that night was rough.”

Nesta laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Good thing to know such a classy man has taken me to dinner.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “You live, you learn.”

Nesta nodded her agreement. “What about your parents? Weren’t they furious?”

Cassian’s eyes softened as he said, “Don’t know my dad. My mom died while I was in middle school, lived with Rhys and his mom after that. And, yes, she gave me hell every damn time. But, she always came to pick me up and break me out.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, but he was already waving her off.

“Don’t be,” he shrugged. “From what my mom told me of my dad, he wasn’t the greatest guy. Found out she was pregnant from one of his friends and skipped town. He was a bull rider, and he jumped on the rodeo tour and she never saw him again. And my mom…” he blew out a deep breath. “We should probably save my mom for a less depressing conversation.”

Nesta nodded, completely understanding.

“But Rhys’ mom was great,” he went on, taking a sip from his water. “I love that woman.”

The waitress came back and Nesta ordered.

Cassian said he’d have the same, but with a chocolate shake, then she was off.

“So,” Cassian went on, leaning his elbows on the table. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Nesta took a moment to think. “After last night, I think you know everything there is to know.”

Cassian smirked. “About some things, maybe. But tell me something I don’t.”

Nesta chewed on her lip, mind going completely blank. Everything either seemed too personal or not personal enough.

“I can’t whistle,” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, this is one of the things I hate about dating. This whole interview process.”

“How about this,” he smiled. “Tell me about your favorite thing in the world.”

He was expecting her to start telling him about cooking, about how she’d ended up in Paris, Rome, London, all the places he’d seen when he did a quick google of her name. But she surprised him.

“Riding horseback,” she said, eyes bright. 

Cassian raised a brow. “Riding? That’s your favorite thing in the world?”

“Does that surprise you?” She asked, leaning back in the booth.

“Yeah, a little,” he confessed.

She stirred her water with her straw, watching the ice cubes spin around in her glass. “It was my one escape growing up. The one thing I could do that didn’t result in a sneer from my mother and a lecture about my future from my father.” She sighed. “I used to ride Phoenix for hours to just...get out of the house. Have you ever ridden back on the hills to the west of the property?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the property that isn’t ours, that’s marked No Trespassing?”

Their waitress brought their milkshakes to the table. There was a bright red cherry on top of Nesta’s, but before she could say anything, Cassian snatched it up and popped it into his mouth. She rolled her eyes, thanked the waitress, and took a huge sip. Her eyes slipped closed instantly and she moaned quietly. “Oh my god, I can’t get a milkshake like this anywhere else.”

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, and when her tongue peeked out to get the little bit of melted ice cream left on her bottom lip, his eyes tracked the motion. They were dark, the shining hazel almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

Without a word, Cassian pulled something from between his teeth and dropped it on the table between them.

The stem from her stolen cherry was tied in a knot.

Nesta said, “That’s both hot and cheesy as hell.”

Cassian’s low laugh skittered across her skin. “You already know what my tongue can do, but I thought I’d give you a little reminder, just in case you somehow forgot already.”

Nesta swallowed. No, she definitely hadn’t forgotten what his perfect mouth could do, but she had forgotten how to speak, especially when he was looking at her the way he was.

He plucked the cherry from his own milkshake, eating the cherry - sans stem, this time - and motioned for Nesta to continue. “So, what about the land that we do not own, Miss I was never rebellious?”

His imitation of her was spot on.

Nesta pursed her lips and said, “Yeah, that land is ours.”

He dropped his spoon, splattering the table in chocolate ice cream droplets. “What?”

She took another drink of her milkshake, not moaning this time, thank the Cauldron, and nodded. “It’s only another few acres. I knew the previous owners. Armand and Colette Lavigne.” The way she said their names, with such familiarity and adoration, Cassian knew she must have spent a lot of time with them. “They were from the Bordeaux region of France. They moved here in their fifties to open a vineyard.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “They didn’t do any research and had no idea the soil here wasn’t good for wine. But they fell in love with the area. And they’re the ones who taught me to love cooking.” She smiled fondly, her eyes misting slightly. “I bought it when Colette passed a few years ago and Armand returned to Floirac. He didn’t want it to go to someone who would just sell it for profit and turn it into another apartment complex or a shopping mall. It's been my land for about four years, but I finally signed the deed to have it put in my name, rather than Armand’s, when I signed the ranch’s deeds.”

Cassian blinked, processing the information, slowly. Then he said, loudly enough to earn a scowl from the elderly couple two booths down, “What the fuck? I’ve been purposely avoiding that land, and now you’re telling me I should’ve been working it?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “No. Not yet, anyway. I haven’t decided  what I want to do with it yet.”

Cassian was slowly shaking his head. “I have a feeling you’re never going to stop surprising me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” She asked.

He smiled at her. “No, it isn’t.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Nesta finally asked, “Have you even tried your milkshake yet, or are you just going to keep stirring it?”

He pointed his sticky spoon at her and took a big sip through his straw. He pulled back, staring at the thick liquid. “That’s pretty damn good.”

“Pretty damn good?” She repeated, shaking her head. “It’s fucking delicious.”

“You’re fucking delicious,” he muttered, taking another drink from his straw.

Nesta’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, which only made Cassian's small smile turn into a wicked grin.

Before she could come up with a retort, a display of beautiful, greasy food was laid out before them. Burgers and chili-cheese fries.

As the waitress turned to leave, Nesta said, “Excuse me, but is Alis still here?”

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said, and Nesta nodded. “She’ll be back in for the morning shift tomorrow, though.”

“Okay, perfect. Thank you.”

The woman smiled warmly and left them to enjoy their burgers.

“Alis?” Cassian asked, eyeing the massive plate of food in front of him and its twin in front of Nesta, then her tiny form. There was no way she’d be able to eat everything in front of her.

Nesta already had a forkful of hot, cheesy fries and was diving in. She closed her eyes and made a contented noise. She took a drink of her water, setting it down before answering. “She owns the Starlight. I came here so much that she and I became pretty close. When I…” Ran away. “Left town, I stopped in for a cup of coffee, trying to talk myself out of leaving. Alis is the one who pushed me to follow my dreams. She even paid for my bus ticket out of town.”

“Really?” Cassian asked, popping a fry into his mouth. “She sounds nice.”

“She is,” Nesta agreed. “One of the best this town has to offer. Now, look away because I’m about to bite into this burger and it’s not going to be attractive whatsoever.”

Cassian didn’t look away and Nesta, eyes on his, took a massive bite out of her bacon cheese burger.

He blinked, and she covered her mouth as her eyes lit up at his expression.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been so attracted to you,” he said, taking his burger into his hands. Before he took a bite, he asked, “So, Alis is the one that pushed you out of town, huh?”

Nesta nodded, taking another bite and swallowing before saying, “If it wasn’t for her that day, I probably would have stayed here, ended back up with Tomas, and lived to regret every fucking day that followed. So, I am very grateful to Alis.”

Cassian hadn’t pressed Nesta anymore on the subject of Tomas, and he knew now wasn’t the time, no matter how many questions he had.

“Well, then I’m grateful to her too,” Cassian said, taking a bite so massive nearly half of his burger disappeared. He chewed before saying, “Although I’m pretty grateful you came back, too.”

Nesta took another bite of her own burger. “You’re just saying that because I’ll have sex with you,” she laughed and dove back into her fries.

Cassian’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a perk. But I think you’re going to be good for the b-n-b, for the ranch as a whole.” Nesta’s eyes softened and she smiled. Until he added, “And ‘I’ll have sex’ implies that we’ll be doing that again, right? That wasn’t a one and done?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, mouth full of food. A second later, she said, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Cassian had the audacity to look offended. “Ouch. Was I so bad?”

Nesta just grinned as she took another bite of her fries.

Cassian’s laughter filled the air as they finished their food. He paid, and then they made their way back into the truck.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, as they pulled out of the parking lot. To his surprise, she had finished every last bite of her food and downed her milkshake. Even Cassian had left a few fries, claiming he couldn’t eat another bite.

“Anytime,” he said, meaning it.

“Um, home is the other direction,” she said, when he turned left onto the main road instead of right. 

“I know,” Cassian replied, shortly, and when it was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything more, Nesta shot him a look.

“Where are we going?” she asked, slowly.

Cassian just grinned, one hand on the wheel, the other sneaking over the middle console to hers.

The ride was comfortably quiet, the rumble of Cassian’s truck the only sound. Nesta didn’t mind though, not as he drove through the square, where people bustled about. Velaris was a city best enjoyed at night, and the people milling around every restaurant and park and store front proved it. She also didn’t mind the feel of his hand in hers, so the longer drive was fine by her.

Until they pulled into a parking lot.

“Why are we here?”

Cassian only grinned and hopped out of the truck, rounding the hood and helping Nesta down. “Don’t feel like a walk down memory lane?” They began to walk and, as casually as she could, she slipped her hand back into his. His fingers intertwined with hers and he glanced down at her. She was staring forward, refusing to look up at him, but he knew color was staining her cheeks. Could tell by the way the tips of her ears were a darker shade of pink than normal. “I thought, rather than talk about who we are, cause that always sucks and no one likes doing it-.” He was rambling and Nesta giggled. He laughed at himself and cleared his throat. “Right. What I was trying to say, is that talking about who you are sucks. But talking about who you used to be? I don’t know, for me, it’s always been easier.” Nesta looked up at him, but he shrugged and carried on. “Even if I wasn’t always proud of who I was, I can at least learn something from who I’ve been.”

“Fair enough,” she said, quietly, as he led the way.

They were at their old high school, but Cassian didn’t walk toward the building, which was undoubtedly locked. Instead, he took her to the football field, where Nesta could count on one hand how many times she had been there through the four years she had spent at Velaris High.

“You played football?” She asked, as they walked through the gates. 

“I did,” Cassian confirmed, as they walked onto the green field. Velaris Knights was painted into the end zones. “Yeah, I tackled a lot of guys on these fields. And, over there,” he pointed to the bleachers, “is where I used to get high and drunk, referring back to the jail conversation we had earlier tonight.”

Nesta laughed as she looked around. She had never been on the field before. Everything looked different from standing between the bleachers.

“You came to games, right?” He asked, gazing around the field. The lights were on, thanks to the evening practice that had only ended an hour or two before. The lights ran on a timer, just like they had when he played on this field. They had until just before ten-thirty before the lights would go out.

Nesta shook her head. “I was never a big fan of school events. I always preferred to stay home and read or more often than not, I was with Tomas. Going to some roping.”

There he was again, taunting Cassian from the past. But again, he wouldn’t bring up Tomas tonight. “Wasn’t Elain a cheerleader? Didn’t you come to at least support her?”

She shrugged. “Come cheer on the cheerleader? No, and she knew I hated it. She would actually convince Feyre to go to the games so I could have an hour or two of silence.”

Cassian snorted. “Well, I lived on this field. And I kicked ass. While you were being a nerd, apparently.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I was not a nerd, asshole.”

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. “I never said it was a bad thing.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “Looking back, I would’ve done some things differently. Maybe not the staying home with a book, but with the whole Tomas business.”

Cassian stayed silent. He wanted so badly to ask, but knew he shouldn’t. They were having such a good time. He didn’t want to ruin it.

So, instead, Cassian said, “I wish I would’ve known you then.”

She chuckled but sat down when they reached the center of the field. “No, I don’t think you do.”

He followed suit, sitting down in the turf leaning back on his hands. “Why not?”

“It was true, what you said before. I constantly had a stick up my ass.” She laughed and continued. “And I was a bitch.”

Cassian laughed, but he didn’t correct her. “You were cute, though. I’m convinced I would have loosened you up.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop her smile from spreading. “I’ll let you think that.”

Cassian looked over at her, at the way her golden-brown hair shone in the lights. She was a beauty, and yes, she had been cute in high school, but now she was stunning, in her little blue dress and her simple braid.

“You’re staring again,” she mumbled.

“Let me stare,” he pleaded, eyes soft.

She blushed and he leaned over, tilting her chin up and softly brushing his lips against hers. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Please tell me I can do that whenever I want now.”

Nesta thoughtfully tapped her chin and said, “Whenever? I don’t know about that.”

“Damn you, woman,” he laughed and kissed her again, laying down on top of her.

She chuckled against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’re not kids anymore, Cassian, we can’t fuck on the football field. Just because you like being tossed in jail doesn’t mean that I do.”

He grinned, resting his elbows in the grass on both sides of her face. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

She kissed him then, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. “Good.”

“Until you did that…” he muttered, kissing her again, pressing his body down against hers as he did so.

She let his hands roam her body, let him grab and squeeze and pull. He tugged on her hair lightly, tilting her chin up and exposing her neck. He nuzzled his face into it, and lightly ran his tongue along the long column of her throat. He pressed soft kisses along her jaw until he returned once more to her lips.

Pulling back to look at her, her lips swollen from his bruising kisses and her hair a messy halo around her head on the grass, Cassian brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. He breathed, “You are so damn beautiful.” She blushed and tried to turn from his gaze. “No,” he whispered, gripping her chin so she couldn’t look away. “Why do you do that? Why won’t you let me tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, quietly.

“Taking compliments isn’t one of my strengths,” she said, running her hands down his arms, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric.

“Well make it one,” he mumbled, “because I’m not going to stop. I’m going to tell you how beautiful you are, always, because it’s the truth.”

She shook her head, slowly, but didn’t say anything else. She simply grabbed him by the face and brought his lips to hers.

After a few minutes of languid kisses, and some strong, strong willpower, Cassian rolled over and laid on his back, staring up at the sky. He tucked a hand behind his head and the other found Nesta’s next to him. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of her hand and he gazed up at the stars.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither one of them wanting to disturb the stillness. But eventually, Nesta asked, “You about ready to head home?”

He turned his head and looked at her, those stormy eyes seeing every part of him. “Just a minute. It’s almost time.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

He smiled, looking back to the sky. “You’ll see.”

They laid there in silence, Nesta loving the feeling of his hand in hers.

The lights shut off, plunging the field into darkness. Nesta started, looking around, wondering if they needed to go, to get back to the truck, before someone-.

“Look,” he breathed, still staring upwards.

Nesta gazed toward the sky. Her breath caught in her throat.

The lights above them, surrounding the field, had gone off, and the starlight above them burned brightly, lighting up the night sky.

There were no trees, no nothing to block the view of the series of shooting stars that shot across the speckled darkness.

Only in Velaris.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She had always known her hometown was famous for its starlight, had always snuck a glance or two up at the night sky throughout her childhood, but had never taken a moment to simply watch, to wait, to explore with her eyes the beauty of creation.

“It is,” Cassian agreed, softly. He wasn’t only talking about the night sky. “I used to lay out here all the time, in high school. Captivated by it.”

“Were you high?” Nesta asked, quietly, jabbing him in the ribs.

Cassian laughed, breathlessly. “Sometimes.”

She glanced over at him, but he didn’t notice. He was entranced by the wonder before him, by the sheer enormity of the sight above him.

“You love this town,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

He nodded and looked over at her. “I do. It’s not much, but it’s...home. I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else.” He paused. “Well, except on the road, but that didn’t exactly pan out.”

“Why not?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

Cassian hesitated. “It’s a long story.”

“Is it?” She asked. “Or is this one of those times you say it’s a long story because you don’t want to tell the story.”

Cassian laughed, glancing sideways at her. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

“Well,” she said, smiling softly. “I have time.”

He tried not to let it sound harsh when he said, “Another time.” He turned and laid on his side, brushing the loose hair framing her face behind her ear.

He could see the stubbornness, could see that Nesta wanted to push. But she nodded and leaned forward to press her lips against his.

After a soft smile, he climbed to his feet and  held out a hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get home.”

She took his hand, happily, and let him walk her back to the truck. The ride back to the ranch was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He caught her looking at him from time to time, and every time he caught her, that look of annoyance from being caught captured her face.

When Cassian pulled up to her little house, he turned off the engine and got out, walking her up to the porch. They stood, hand in hand. He looked down at her and kissed her, softly. “Is this the part where you invite me inside?”

She made a show of acting like she was thinking, and took a step back. “I don’t know, this was only our first date…” She opened the door and took another step back until she was inside. “I’m not that type of girl.”

There was a playful glint in Cassian’s eye and he stepped forward, bracing an arm on the door frame. “I don’t know what type of girl you’re talking about.”

She chuckled and said, “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The smirk on his face faltered and she shut the door in his face.

He took a step back and blinked. “Wha- Are you kidding me?”

The door swung open just a few seconds later and Nesta stood inside, still laughing. She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him over the threshold, her lips immediately meeting his.

[casuallyimagining]

Postcards

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook goes on tour without you, and he sends back mementos to let you know he’s thinking of you. Notes: Part of the Long Term Couples series.  Read more here

The postcards had started to appear in your mailbox in mid-August. One or two a week, sometimes three, always a few days between to space out their appearance. And while it was October and they had been appearing regularly, you had to admit that each one was a surprise.

You thought maybe eventually the novelty would wear off, or that it would become too expensive to send mail to Seoul from halfway across the planet. But their appearance never ceased.

Sometimes, you would find more than one postcard in your mailbox at a time, the handwriting on each different--sometimes sloppy, sometimes cramped, sometimes tall characters, sometimes short ones--but you looked forward to the neat, even-spaced handwriting the most.

It had been months, and even though you talked on the phone every night, you missed Jungkook more than you anticipated.

Any other tour, you’d be there with him and the rest of his members. Any other tour, you were a valuable member of the crew--working with the stagehands and the production staff to make sure every concert ran as smoothly as possible. But this wasn’t a world tour, and really, it hadn’t been planned too far in advance. So as Jungkook and the boys traipsed across Europe and Asia, you were stuck in your apartment with Kimchi, Jungkook’s Jindogae puppy.

The first few postcards were a little worse for wear. Kimchi hadn’t mastered yet to leave things alone when you commanded him, and the postcards--which were just the perfect size for a puppy to steal from your coffee table--had been punished for the pup’s poor behavior.

You worked harder on Kimchi’s training, and you went out and bought little frames to protect the postcards from any further punishment. You had agonized over which side to display at first--knowing Jungkook, he had really put thought into which postcard image to send--but in the end, you decided that the message was more important than the location. You could always flip them later when you were missing him less.

When a new one arrived, you reread the old ones. After a few weeks, you had most of them memorized. And while you loved and cherished them all, the first one was your favorite. Partly because it was the first and it was a surprise, but partly because it was so different from the others.

The front was a photo of London’s Tower Bridge at dusk, the lights on the supports twinkling in the near-darkness. On the back was an image of the Union Jack with the opacity turned way down. The message was a short and simple “London isn’t the same without you. We miss you a lot. I love you! - Kookie,” but it was how it was written that made you smile. The handwriting was the messiest you had ever seen Jungkook produce. It was almost like he was in a hurry, like it was a last-minute, rushed decision. Like he had seen it at the train station and just had to buy it.

The second had arrived with two friends. One, from Jimin, was a picture of a Scottish Terrier in green and red plaid and simply said “Wish you could have come with us! We met a friendly dog wearing a kilt. You would have loved him.” The second was from Yoongi and had a picture of the Clyde River at sunset on the front. On the back, he told you in a fairly lengthy message about their first of three concerts in Glasgow, how much fun they were having, and how much you would love Scotland. The writing was so tiny you could barely read it, and even then, Yoongi had almost run out of space.

The last one was a cute cartoon of a shaggy-haired Highland cow. On the back, Jungkook’s handwriting was neat this time and evenly spaced. No more rushing. This one was intentional. “We saw these cows in person! They reminded me of your hair in the morning!”

A few days later, a postcard from Amsterdam. The following week, ones from Berlin and Paris. By the time the European leg of the tour ended in Barcelona, you had at least one postcard from each of the six other members. You had started hanging them in the small makeshift office space you had in your living room, 12 in total so far, clustered together in what you hoped was a tasteful display.

The messages were mixed. Some, like the ones from Yoongi and Taehyung, were longer and more thoughtful. Hobi’s was just bright musings about his day and a wish for your wellbeing while they’re away. Namjoon had sent one from Amsterdam that also contained vandalism by Jimin. Jin’s from Paris was simply just a collection of jokes he had picked up along the way. Really, they were all very predictable.

Jungkook’s on the other hand… those were all wildcards. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. In addition to his cow from Glasgow, he had sent you one from Amsterdam in which he mused about clogs and windmills, one from Berlin that was just him saying “I love you” in every language he could think of, one from Paris where he just talked about some ice cream he and Jimin had gotten, and one from Barcelona where he told you how he made some sort of mistake at the concert that he knew he wouldn’t have made had you been there because, in his words, “you always have my back.”

The postcards were chaotic, and stream-of-consciousness, and oh so Jungkook that it made your heart both ache and swell every time you looked at them.

When the boys arrived back in Asia, you could tell immediately just from the postcards you received. Not just the images, either. The messages had an entirely different tone.

From Tokyo, it was a watercolor painting of one of the shrines and a simple message of how much he missed you.

From Osaka, it was a photo of the cherry blossom festival and the desire to make a point to visit to see the flowering trees the following year.

And from Fukuoka, it was from the art museum, and held a promise to take you there as soon as he could because they had works by Roy Lichtenstein and Mark Rothko he and Namjoon both thought you would love to see.

One postcard from Jungkook for every international city the mini-tour stopped in. They had one more concert in Seoul and then he would be home. Unfortunately, they landed early in the morning and then were swept away to rehearse, so you wouldn’t be able to see him until after the concert.

So you sat on your couch, curled up under a blanket, watching reactions to the band’s various music videos and fan compilations on YouTube. It had become one of your favorite pastimes in recent weeks. Currently, you were making your way through one channel’s reactions playlist. Three men sat at a table, two of whom were apparently hip-hop dancers, and they were reacting to “Daechwita.” Clearly they were into it--the two dancers kept making the guy in the middle pause the video so they could rewatch certain bits.

You and Kimchi both jumped at the knock at your door, the dog giving a warning bark, his ears trained towards the door. It was quiet, and then you heard the soft ‘fwip’ of something being slid under your door. Kimchi was up in a second to investigate, and you followed, giving the dog a sharp ‘leave it’ so he wouldn’t destroy whatever it was.

Curious, you bent down to pick it up. It was a piece of thick paper, no more than 16 centimeters in length. Immediately, your heart began to race. It was a postcard. From Seoul.

Kimchi must have sensed your feelings because he gave a confused bark, his attention turned back to the door. You flipped the postcard over. It was blank--no address, no stamp--except for one small line of neat Hangul. “I missed you.”

Without thinking, you opened the door. Kimchi was in the hall in a second, barking at a pair of black combat boots. The man attached to the boots attempted to shush the dog. You laugh as he tried to shoo Kimchi back into the house. His wide eyes met yours then, and he was laughing, too, a smile blazing like wildfire across his lips.

“Kimchi, in,” you commanded the dog sharply, and with one more bark, he retreated into your apartment. You motioned with your head for the man to enter as well. He did as he was told.

As soon as the door was shut, you pulled him to you. He smelled like Downy and vanilla, but also airplane and sweat and rain. His clothes were drenched--was it raining? You hadn’t noticed. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you to him tightly. You had forgotten how much his hugs felt like home.

A few moments passed as you stood there in your entryway just holding each other. Your mind vacillating between getting lost in him and wandering. Why wasn’t he at the concert? It didn’t matter, because he was here. Did they get rained out? Who cares, he’s home. You felt his lips press against the side of your head.

You pulled back, your hands going to his cheeks, thumbs ghosting against his soft skin. “Jungkook,” you breathed. He smiled softly, his eyes giving away how happy he was to be there.

Silently, you stood there, hands on his face, his own on your waist, as you stared at him, trying to commit him to memory. His hair was longer, the ends turning under slightly as they dried from the rain. His face was a little flushed, though you weren’t sure whether it was from the chilly bite of the late October air or something else.

“Not that I’m not so incredibly glad you’re here,” you began, your eyes meeting his. “But why are you here?”

He laughed, letting go of your waist so he could loosen the laces of his boots. “Rained out. I guess they’ve been having problems with the retractable roof at the stadium.” He shrugged, kicking his boots off haphazardly. Kimchi barked at the noise, running to investigate the shoes. “They’re going to reschedule, I guess?”

You nodded. As soon as his shoes were off, Jungkook pulled you close again, one arm slung over your shoulders as he led you into the living room. You sat on the corner of the couch, and immediately he was leaning into you, nudging your arm up over his shoulders so that you were the one holding him. You could feel him sigh against you, his head falling and resting against yours.

“God, I missed this,” he admitted softly.

“I missed you.” He ducked his head, burying his face in your neck. You felt him smile against your skin, pressing a light kiss there.

With the excitement of him finally being home starting to wear off, you remembered the postcard still clutched in your hand. You made an excited noise and jumped to your feet, scurrying over to your desk. Jungkook protested the lack of contact with a whine, his arms trailing after you as you moved.

He watched you pick up one of the empty frames and slide the postcard into it. “Whatcha doing?”

“Saving it,” you said simply, holding it up to the wall with the others to see where it would look best.

“You framed them?”

“I like them. They’re sweet.”

He laughed, and you could hear him stand and move closer. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, going silent as he inspected your handiwork. “You really liked them?”

You hummed, placing the newly framed postcard on your desk before reaching up to pat his cheek. “Of course I like them. I missed you guys.”

“Honestly, I don’t even remember sending some of them. We only spent like a day in Amsterdam and Barcelona. I had to grab some of them at the airport.” He squeezed you tighter. “Do you know how hard it is to find a postcard nowadays?”

You spun in his grasp so you were facing him, one hand on his cheek. “Thank you for making the effort.”

Jungkook smiled at you, gentle and sweet. “I will always make the effort for you.”

Read more of the series here

[babbawright20]

How you and Johnny Knoxville met

Y/N POV

“Bam I really would rather not just sit there and watch as you get shot by those bullet things.” You explain as he rolls his eyes. 

“C’mon Y/N it will be fun! Ry wants to see you and the rest of the Jackass are dying to meet you”

“It would be quite funny watching that unfold” You murmur as Bams eyes light up. 

“Fuck yeah! we got to go now or ill be late, don't want Knoxville to beat my ass for showing up late again.” And with that he grabs your arm dragging you to his vehicle outside your house. 

20 minutes later -

“Y/N!!!!!! The fuck have you been?” Ryan scolds as he slams his body into yours. Giggling you hold him back just as tight as he continues to scold you for the amount of time its been since you last saw him. Which is realistically only a week. 

“Hi Ry I've been busy hiding from you weirdos” You wink stepping away from his embrace. With that comment he throws you over his shoulder with protests flooding from your mouth. 

“Put me down or feel the consequences Dunn” you warn as he walks towards many unfamiliar faces. 

“Yeah yeah Y/N heard all this before. I'm just being a good pal and taking you to the big boys of Jackass. Also where the fuck has Bam gone”. Ryan curses eagerly looking for his best friend. You lay defeated on his shoulder also looking round for your brother who you didn't even know walked away earlier during your catch up with Ryan. 

Rather quickly you spot Bam with a group of men you only slightly recognise from the shots Bam has showed you. Ryan quickly heads over in there direction, Bam already laughing at the sight of you on Ryan's shoulders still. 

Your cheeks turn slightly red as the men's focus falls on you all smiling at the sight of you both. you remember the names from the familiar faces: Steve-o, Preston and Dave England stand in front of you, waiting eagerly for you to introduce yourself. 

“Okay Dunn you can let me down now” You scold at your friend and chuckles, carefully dropping you on the ground as you turn to face the men still waiting. 

“Hi im Y/N” you say sweetly as you look across their faces, taking you in. 

“Hello Maam we’ve heard a lot about you” Preston replies pulling you in for a hug as you glare at Bam. 

Bam holds his hands up avoiding eye contact with you. 

“As much as we would like to get to know you Y/N Knoxville is waiting for us all in the warehouse” Steve-o Explains grabbing your hand as he pulls you in the direction to the building. He beings to explain the stunt they are hoping to pull off and how almost everyone had refused to do it. Looking around you see all the cameras and lights while Dave England has a panic attack even just thinking about the stunt. 

You hear a loud laugh burst through the warehouse and without thinking you look for where that noise came from. You see a tall figure with his head thrown backwards as he continues his heavenly tune. He’s dressed in black trousers with a plain white top that shows his lean figure with a black plaid shirt on top, unbuttoned. Everyones attention is solely on him, too mesmerising to look away. As you inch closer to him with Steve-o your heartbeat suddenly rises. Steve-o notices how quite you have gone and notices your change of expression immediatly smirking. 

“Oi Johnny!” he shouts as your eyes shot to him and your breathe holds in your chest. 

As he looks over you notice a surprised expression fall on his features and he stops mid sentence. Your eyes fall onto his as he lets his gaze fall down your body before pulling them back to yours. Without hesitation he begins to walk in your direction leaving that unfinished conversation behind. With nervous eyes you couldnt help but smile as he gets closer. 

“Hi buddy!” Johnny says as he pulls steve-o in for a quick hug. Once he pulls away his attention falls back to you. His eyes drag down your body as he ignores whatever Steve-0o is telling him. 

“And what's your name?” he finally says as the wind is knocked out of your body. 

“Im Y/N, Bam’s sister” you explain as the heat finds its way to your face again due to the look he was giving you. A smile falls upon his lips at the mention of your name. 

“Thats a lovely name” he compilments neither of you noticing the fact Steve-o had left with the biggest grin on his face. 

“thank you very much glad its appreciated” You giggle as his smile widens at the sound, his heart rate picking up. You were beautiful and he couldnt handle you being so close. 

His name gets called from the opposite side of the warehouse. With a wink he gives you one more look across your body, a smirk pulling at his lips as he reluctantly walks away from you. You already have a sense of sadness as you watch him walk away, missing the smell of his cologne. 

From the corner of your eye you spot Ryan, Bam and Steve-o whispering while pointing directily at you. Turning you rattention on the three boys they all straighten out with only Steve-o making eye contact with you. With a small smile you make your way over to them. 

Bam was the first one to speak up with a grin painted onto his face. 

“Looks like Y/n has a crush on someone” He shouts as you slap his hand away from your arm. 

“Shut it Bam before i hurt you” you warn with Steve-o dying from your threat. 

“He seemed very interested in you too Y/n” steve-o winks as your cheeks turn red yet again.

With a small smile you turn you head to find Johnny already looking in your direction. He gives you a smile before turning his attention back to Jeff leaving you to stare at his side profile.

“I really don’t want to do this was” Ryan explains calling Johnny an ass for even suggesting it.

With that conclusion a loud bang runs through your ears as you slightly jump holding onto Steve-o’s arm.

“Yeah fuck that I’m not doing that! That’s fucking mental” Ryan huffs grabbing your hand and leading you to the front entrance with him sitting in a vacant seat. You drop in the seat next to him slightly giggling as he continues to refuse to do the stunt presented for him.

Shortly after Johnny comes out with the biggest grin on his face.

“Come on Dunn it’ll only hurt a lot” he explains while his eyes flicker to yours.

“Are you crazy? Knoxville I’m not doing that that’s too much”

“Fine I’ll do it then” Johnny suggests explaining that it’s footage. You couldn’t help but frown as he suggests it, not wanting him to get hurt.

He catches your attention again as he runs his hands through his hair making sure his sunglasses run in front of his eyes. Nothing has ever seemed more attractive than the way he looks right now and your breathing halts as you continue to admire him. His head turns in your direction as he slightly tilts it when he notices your gaze on him.

“Do you wanna come watch this event unfold sweetheart?” He asks eyes still on you as he starts to walk away.

With a shaky sigh, Ryan huffs following Johnny into the warehouse and you slightly giggle know he’s going to join the stunt he refused to do.

You stand with Dave as he continues to shake, with a hand on his arm you make sure he is okay. That’s when you notice the three men standing in front of you and only two of them wearing helmets.

You sigh in relief as you notice It’s Ryan and bam who are wearing the protection but then frown when you notice Johnny isn’t. He looks your way and drops his eye into a wink and puts on his goggles.

“Hi I’m Johnny Knoxville and this is Jackass” with that a bang follows and you see Bam and Ryan drop to the ground. Dave holds your arm pulling you back from them knowing you were about to run to them. Johnny grunts in pain as he walks around the set. However, you notice Bam crying and being the great sister you are, you begin to laugh.

Johnny turns his head to you and you point to Bam while uncontrollably laughing.

“Bam are you crying?” Johnny asks slightly laughing as he leans closer to look.

When the stunt is over and the cameras are off you finish helping your boys calm down from the pain when you feel eyes on you. Turning your head you again met eyes with Johnny. With a finger raised, he beckons you over to him. After the confirmation from Ryan and Bam that they are okay you head over to him.

“I have some gnarly marks from that!” He explains as he lifts his top. The first thing you see is red prints all over his stomach. Then as you continue to exam the marks you can’t help but notice how fit he actually is. You couldn’t move your eyes off him.

“Mmhm like what you see sweetheart?” Johnny asks as your eyes snap back to his with the biggest grin on your face.

“That was so cheesy oh my” you say as you double over in laughter. He quickly shrugs with a huge smile on his face.

“Got you to laugh though didn’t it” he explains pulling his top back down and grimacing in pain.

“Have you got those checked out?” You ask as you take in his expression.

“I’ve had a lot worse than this done to me I’ll be fine. Wanna kiss them better sweetheart?”.

With widened eyes your gaze meets his, his own staring straight at yours.

“Mhm you’d be lucky, come back to mine and we can see.” You whisper leaning forward his eyes falling to your lips. You give him a kiss on the cheek about to leave when he grabs your arm spinning you back round to him.

“You are really something, Y/n” Johnny says his eyes still on yours.

With a bright smile you say

“Right back at you sweetheart” with a teasing wink he lets you go. Both of your hearts racing and your minds running with hope. He watches you walk away with a small smile forming on his lips. Already knowing you could quite possibly be the one.