#finally... FINALLY..... i have been itching to draw these two for a month

[cottoncandyfrizz]

love trial

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (13-Final)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, violence, attacks, blood, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Thirteen Word Count: 6.1K

Part Twelve :: Series Masterlist

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Bradley had an incredible feeling that something was wrong.

He couldn’t really explain it, but there was a twisting in his stomach and his heart was steadily beating faster in his chest. He knew he was being paranoid and he tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Come on,” he muttered, tapping his hand against the steering wheel. Traffic was slow moving and he was so close to the turn he needed to make, but his rare impatience was shining through. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he could finally take his foot off the brake. He sped up, driving faster than he normally would. But it seemed that the closer he got to your house, the more anxious he became. 

He thought it would go away when he finally pulled behind your car in the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for too much longer. But then he realized that you weren’t in it, hadn’t waited for him like he asked, and he cursed under his breath. He got out of the Bronco quickly. He had just slammed the door when he heard a scream come from inside. 

His blood ran cold, his heart stopped in his chest, and he ran.

_____

“It’s so good to see you,” Paul breathed, smiling at you in what he probably thought looked reassuring. “You look so pretty today. I love when you wear blue. It’s my favorite color. How did you know?” 

The light blue sweater you were wearing was suddenly making you itch. Your bottom lip wobbled against your will as you stood there in front of him. Paul looked more disheveled than usual. He was in his normal work attire of khaki pants and a wrinkled plaid button down, his lanyard with his badge still draped around his neck. His red hair was mused like he had been running his fingers through it, and his thick glasses were sliding down his face, the eyes behind them wide and crazed, even as his words were spoken almost…gently. It was a horrifying juxtaposition. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he continued, not waiting for you to answer his previous question. He took a step closer to you, and you backed up on instinct, your heart pounding in your chest. The fear that you had been desperately trying to hold at bay was creeping up your spine. Your lower back hit the edge of the counter and you whimpered when you realized you had allowed him to cage you in. The scent of his cologne was overpowering, like he had poured the entire bottle on himself. You wanted to gag. You needed to get away from him, but you couldn’t seem to move your feet. 

Oh, you should have waited for Bradley. Why hadn’t you listened to him? 

“Have you missed me?” 

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, not with this terror sitting in your throat. You could tell by the huff that he let out and the way his smile dipped that your silence was starting to make him angry. You had to swallow several times before you could force any words out, and even then, your voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper. 

“Paul…why are you doing this?”

The man in question cocked his head to the side, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Doing what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

“All of this,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“What do you mean? I’m doing it for you. For us.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, tears slipping down your cheeks. “There is no us, Paul. I don’t want anything from you.” 

He huffed out a loud breath through his nose as his jaw ticked, and the hair on your arms stood up. You were frozen in place as he took another step closer to you, nearly flush with your own body now. His hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinched away from his touch, and his blue eyes darkened as he shook his head. “You don’t mean that.” 

“I do,” you swore. 

“You’re confused,” he argued back.You could feel his hot breath on your face, and you wanted to scream. You couldn’t remember a time when you had been more scared than you were at that moment.

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are,” he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. Another tear slid down your cheek as your body trembled, and he leaned closer. "You know, I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek. You recoiled from his touch. 

“Please, Paul. Just let me go.” You knew that you were trying to rationalize with someone who was probably too far gone to be reasoned with, but you had to try. At the very least you had to buy yourself a little bit of time. 

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice growing more desperate. “I can’t let you leave me again. I won’t let you.”

You pressed your luck and shuffled just the slightest bit to the side to try and escape, but he grabbed your arms as soon as you shifted. You gasped at the intensity of his grip. God, why didn’t you listen to Bradley? You never should have gotten out of the damn car. This was all your fault. 

Bradley. 

“Bradley’s on his way here,” you stammered, and you weren’t sure if you said it to see if it would give him enough pause to let you go, or just to reassure yourself. But Paul’s expression changed in an instant. Gone was the fake kindness he had been trying to maintain, replaced by an ugly sneer that made the fear that had been consuming you turn into panic. He looked completely unhinged, and you knew now, more than ever, you had to get away from him. You started to struggle against the hold he had on you, but his fingers pressed down harder and his nails dug into your skin.

“Everything changed as soon as he showed up,” he hissed, and you flinched when you felt his spit hit your face. He shook you, like he was trying to will you to hear him. “He took you from me.” 

You wanted to tell him that you were never his to be taken, but you didn’t think you could get the words out. You were trapped. Panic was clawing at you from the inside out, making it hard to think. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else, and it was starting to get hard for you to breathe through the panic. Tears streamed steadily down your cheeks, and your blurry eyes shifted quickly, searching for something, anything. You tried your best to inhale and unintentionally caught the off putting scent of the rotting and fresh flowers that were littered all over the counters at your back. 

Several vases of them. 

Before you could overthink it, or really even think of it at all, you jerked your leg up. Your knee connected with Paul’s groin and he let out a loud groan, stumbling back and doubling over. His grip loosened just the slightest bit and you wrenched your arms free of him. You turned quickly and grabbed the vase of freshly purchased flowers, identical to ones you had loved so much before. You swung it at him right as he was standing back up, and the glass connected with the side of his head with a satisfying shatter. He yelled out in pain and you took your opportunity.

You shot past him, trying desperately to go for the front door. You just had to get to the door. But you had only taken a few steps when your feet were kicked out from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in your vision when your head caught on the edge of the side table by the couch on the way down, and then bounced off the hardwood. Your eyes fought to adjust as you tried to get up, but a rough tug on your legs had you sliding across the floor. Your vision swam as you were flipped onto your back, and Paul was on top of you in an instant. 

You struggled under him, trying to push him off, but his weight pressing on you made it hard to move - hard to breathe. His eyes were wild and his breathing was ragged as he stared down at you. “I told you that you couldn’t leave,” he said, low and menacing. “Why did you do that?” 

“Get off of me!” you cried, trying to free yourself. Paul fought to grab onto your wrists as you flailed underneath him. 

Get away, get away, get away. 

“Stop it!” he yelled. You sucked in as much of a breath as possible with the weight on your chest and screamed as loudly as you could, desperate for someone to hear you. To help you. 

Paul’s eyes widened and he slapped his palm over your mouth so hard that it stung, pushing your head harder into the floor beneath you. “Shut up!” 

You bit down on the hand muffling your sound, and Paul hissed, yanking it away. You kept screaming as you managed to get one of your hands to his face. You scratched, feeling the skin break underneath your fingernails. You kept struggling beneath him even as one of his hands found its way to your neck and a loud bang echoed throughout the room, followed by a terrified shout of your name. 

—--

Bradley had experienced fear in his life before, and anger even more than that. The emotions were all too familiar to him. Yet there was something different about the way they spread through his body like wildfire as he burst open your front door and saw you on the ground with the man who had been tormenting you on top of you, his hand around your throat. Your legs flailed as you tried to kick your way out from under him, and Bradley saw nothing but pure, hot, dark red. 

Your name tore from him as he lunged forward. He tackled Paul off of you, the force of his weight sending him sprawling to the side. The smaller man’s expression transitioned rapidly from shock to anger, but Bradley wiped it off just as quickly. 

He didn't even think about what he was doing, he just acted, his fist connecting with Paul's face once, and then again, and another time after that.  Each hit was fueled by the months of anger and frustration he had felt knowing what he was putting you through, of the nights he spent holding you after you woke up screaming, and each tear he had wiped away. 

The man underneath him did his best to swing back, catching Bradley once awkwardly on the jaw, but Bradley quickly overpowered him and his limbs fell weakly to the ground at his sides. He felt as Paul’s nose bent under his knuckles, blood flowing freely down his face. It was like something else had taken over his body. He couldn’t feel anything but the need to protect you. 

It wasn’t until his name on your lips broke through the ringing in his ears that he came back to himself at all. 

He looked over his shoulder to see you had pulled yourself up enough to lean against the couch. You were gasping for air as you sobbed, tears streaming down your face, and Bradley felt his heart break at the sight of you. He spared Paul one more glance. The man was still conscious, if only barely, staring up at him with bleary eyes, and Bradley leant over him with a sneer, pressing his forearm against his throat. He spoke low, so only he could hear. “Don’t fucking move.” 

He quickly moved off of him, crawling the few feet to where you were. You were shaking, your eyes wide and scared and trained on the worthless lump of a man sprawled out on the ground. Bradley knew he needed to get your focus on him, and he also desperately needed to touch you, to assure himself you were as okay as you could be. He moved slowly, trying not to startle you as he brought his hands up to cup your face. He guided you so that your eyes locked on his. He breathed out your name in a shaky exhale. 

“Bradley,” you croaked, and his heart broke a little more. 

“I’m right here,” he promised. His voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t help the tremble of his hands as he brushed away your tears. “I got you.” You let out another sob, and Bradley’s face softened. “Come here, baby.” 

You didn’t resist when he pulled you into his arms, curling against him and burying your face in his chest as you cried. Bradley held you tightly, shifting off of his knees to sit so his back was against the couch, and your back was to the man still bleeding by the coffee table. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as he did. He tried to focus on the feeling of you in his arms to calm his own racing heart. He ran his hand over your hair, and his eyebrows pulled together when he felt something wet and sticky. He pulled his hand away, seeing blood on his fingertips. His eyes widened as he pulled back from you just far enough to meet your eyes. They were still wide, and now he could see how they were slightly dazed, too. 

“Bug, baby are you hurt?” he asked, his voice urgent and laced with concern. He was already carefully touching your head again, searching for injury. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the bump on the side of your head. He gently pushed your hair aside, his eyes narrowing as he saw the gash that had opened up on your scalp. It was small, which is maybe why he hadn’t noticed it before. But it was there. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He felt a rush of anger all over again, heating him from the inside out. He felt the urge to scramble across the room and finish what he had started, but your soft whimper as he touched around the wound kept him grounded. He knew that you needed him right now. He had to swallow the fury he was feeling and focus on you, but it was thick in his throat. 

Slowly, he let his hand drift down to your neck. The skin was still hot from the pressure Paul had put on it, but he pushed past that, focusing on the feel of your pulse thudding against his fingertips. He let his eyes close for just a moment and took a deep breath. 

He had to take care of you. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away and cupping your face in his hands again. He brushed some of your tears away as they fell, slower than they were before. Your sobs had lessened, too, but your breathing was still shaky. He gave you a sad, tight smile, trying to push some sort of reassurance to you. “I need to call 911, sweetheart.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the front of his shirt in your hands. He knew that you hated hearing that. Your head lolled slightly, and his heart thudded in his chest as a shot of panic went through him. Your name was on his lips before you nodded, opening your eyes and straightening up to look at him. They were still fluttering, fighting for focus, and he was fairly positive that you had a concussion. But you whispered a soft “okay”. Bradley pressed another kiss to your forehead and helped you stand just far enough to get off of the floor and onto the couch itself. He pulled you back into his arms as soon as he was beside you, tucking your face into his chest so you were facing the cushions. He wished he could get you out of here completely, but you weren’t the only one he had to keep an eye on right now. But he’d be damned if you had to look at the piece of shit across the room.

He ignored the sound of him groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the three numbers quickly, his voice calm and steady as he talked to the operator. He gave them your address, as well as the case number he had memorized from the police report you had filed. All the while he held you close, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Once he hung up, he risked a glance over at Paul. The man was still crumpled on the floor, holding his bent nose. But he didn’t try to move or to run, laying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling; Bradley wondered if maybe he finally realized how fucked he was. Or maybe if he had just hit him so hard that he was concussed, too. 

Still, he felt his anger ignite once again and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists. He wanted nothing more than to go over there and finish the job, to make sure that man never hurt you or anyone else ever again. But he knew that wasn't his place. Right now, his only place was here, holding you. You were the only thing that mattered. 

"I got you," he whispered into your hair, his voice soft. "I got you.”

——

You kept your eyes closed, face pressed into his chest, focusing on the sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke with the 911 operator as opposed to the words he was speaking themselves. You didn’t want to think about what had just happened, about the feel of Paul’s hands on your arms and on your neck and the weight of his body on top of yours. You wanted to go back to the carefree happiness you had felt and forget this night ever existed. You just wanted to stay in Bradley’s arms and pretend that everything was going to be okay. You felt safe, protected from anything; nothing could hurt you. 

You just wanted to stay right here. 

"I love you," Bradley said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. You weren’t sure when he had gotten off the phone or if he had said anything else to you, but the words made you blink your eyes open slowly. 

You had to swallow a few times, your tongue heavy and your mouth dry. Your voice was hoarse when you were finally able to return the words in nothing more than a whisper that still felt too loud. "I love you too.” 

Your head was fuzzy and your arms were tingling, your fingers still weakly curled into the fabric of his shirt. You wondered if you were going into shock.

After what felt like an eternity, but simultaneously no time at all, you heard the sound of sirens outside. Bradley’s grip on you tightened, and you felt the exhale he let out against your forehead. His voice was gentle and comforting when he spoke. “We’re going to get this all taken care of, okay?” 

“Kay,” you whispered. 

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, and the calluses on his palms felt so good and familiar against your cheeks that you couldn’t help but lean into it. You blinked at him slowly when he asked you to look at him, and the worry that shone in his eyes made your heart clench. “I’m going to take care of you, Bug. I promise.” 

You knew he would, without a single doubt in your mind. 

It was all a bit of a blur after that. The cops arrived first, and you let Bradley do most of the talking. It was almost like you were separate from your body, or listening through a seashell, as he explained what he had walked in on and everything that had happened before this, too. You flinched when Paul’s voice broke through the fog in your head. You had almost forgotten he was even in the room, he had been so quiet, but now he was saying your name, the sight of the police officers having sparked something back in him. 

“Don’t do this, please. Just tell them this is all a misunderstanding. We-we belong together. Why don’t you know that?” 

He sounded weaker and less sure of himself than you had ever heard, but you didn’t want to hear him at all. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in Bradley’s chest again, trying to block it all out. 

You were relieved when, almost immediately, your boyfriend was scooping you up into his arms and carrying you outside. You rested your head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he whispered soft reassurances to you. “The paramedics need to look at you, baby. And I need to finish talking to the police. I’ll make it quick, I promise.” 

He set you down gently on the edge of the open ambulance. You gripped his t-shirt in your hands, drawing his eyes to you. You felt pitiful and small when you whispered, begging him not to go too far. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and promised he’d stay within sight. You felt a pang of separation anxiety as he let go of you. He only stepped a few feet away to where one of the officers from inside was now standing, notepad in hand. He was close enough where you were sure he could hear everything the paramedics were saying, too. 

They were all business, but their touch was gentle as they checked you over, asking you questions and assessing your injuries. You felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again as the dull pain in your head where the gash was and the ache in your neck and your arms where Paul had grabbed you seemed to register. It was all too much, and you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.The flashing lights from the police cars cast an eerie glow over the street, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You kept your eye on Bradley the whole time. He stood tense with his arms crossed over his chest as he talked. He kept glancing at you, sending you reassuring smiles. But there was a pinch in his eyebrows, and - 

You cried out at a sudden pain on your scalp. Bradley was by your side before the paramedic had even finished muttering her apology. 

“Sorry about that, just cleaning it up.” 

You gripped Bradley’s hand as a tear slid down your cheek. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and shushed you, his voice low and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.”

You focused on his touch and his voice as the paramedics finished with you. You vaguely heard the words concussion and antiseptic, and you forced out a thank you where you hoped was appropriate. The woman who had been helping sent you a warm, kind smile as she took her gloves off. She nodded in your direction and muttered about giving you a moment before she slipped away. 

You leaned into Bradley’s side when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, grateful for the warmth and comfort he provided. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you just wanted to close your eyes and rest. But the sound of someone clearing their throat made you open your eyes again. The officer who had been talking to Bradley was now standing in front of you, his expression serious. 

“Can’t this wait?” Bradley asked. You glanced up at him, noticing that line between his narrowed eyes again. Without even consciously thinking about it, you raised your hand, smoothing it out with your thumb. He looked down at you, his features softening. He smiled, but you knew it was half hearted at best. 

The officer’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We need to take your statement, miss.” He looked at you expectedly, pen poised over the paper.

Bradley’s grip on you tightened. You leaned further into him, and it was like you were both trying to draw and give comfort to one another all at the same time. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your arm as you took a deep breath. 

Your voice was shaky, detached, as you described as much as you could muster. The man in uniform standing in front of you jotted down notes on his notepad and asked questions as you went, which you answered as best as you could. 

“And when your boyfriend showed up? What happened then?” 

Even through the haze in your mind, you saw how the older man’s eyes flicked over to him. You looked at Bradley, too, seeing the way his jaw clenched. He stayed silent beside you, but you could feel the tension in his body. You knew he was angry, thinking back on the interaction. You thought about how Paul’s grip on your neck and weight on your body had released so suddenly. You had scrambled away, and it had taken you a few gasping breaths to register that Bradley had him on the ground in much the same position you had been. You had watched, almost transfixed in a way, as he laid into him. 

But he stopped as soon as you said his name. You could only imagine how he had felt in that moment, seeing you like that. You knew how much anger and hatred he carried toward your old coworker, contrasted and heightened by the love he had for you. It was in Bradley’s nature to protect the ones that he cared about, and he had walked into something terrible. But he hadn’t hesitated to put his own anger and vengeance aside the moment you needed his comfort, instead. 

“He protected me,” you murmured quietly. You heard the breath of air that he let out at your words. 

The questions continued for a few minutes, until a commotion near your front door drew all of your attention. Your breath caught when you saw Paul being led out with his arms behind his back. For a terrifying moment, he met your eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as fear spiked in you all over again. And then he started yelling for you, struggling against the hold another of the cops had on him. 

You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut. Bradley turned so he was shielding you completely and drew you into his chest in much the same way he had done inside. He went the extra step of covering your ears to drown out all the noise and kept them there until a slam of a car door cut off the voice screaming your name. The tears you had been desperate to hold back slipped down your cheeks, and your chest felt tight all over again. 

“Please,” Bradley pleaded softly, and you knew he wasn’t speaking to you. “She’s been through enough tonight. She’s given you more than enough - just let me get her out of here.” 

The officer must have agreed, because the next thing you knew, Bradley was buckling you into the Bronco. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and murmured that he would be right back. You heard the click of the lock once he closed the door, and you let out a breath of relief at knowing no one could touch you now. You let your eyes fall close and your head rest against the cool glass of the window as you waited. 

He was gone for several minutes, and when he unlocked the car and climbed in himself, he set your bag down on the floor at your feet. 

The trip back to his apartment was silent, not even any music playing on the radio. Halfway there, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid over on the bench seat to press yourself to his side. He didn’t say anything, just shifted to wrap his arm around you. You let your eyes close, and when you opened them again, you were parked in his normal spot. 

“Let’s get you inside, baby,” Bradley murmured, and you felt so drained, you could hardly even nod. You barely register him leading you inside, or how he knelt on the ground to take your shoes off, and then helped you sit on the couch. He brought you a glass of water that he helped you drink, and now, sitting here in the quiet of one of the places you felt the safest, that you felt the emotions hitting you all over. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said softly, running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” 

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t his fault, that you were just grateful he had come at all. You just wanted to be held, to feel safe. He seemed to sense that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. 

You leaned into him, the tears streaming down your face as you buried your head into his chest. Every part of you ached, and you didn't know how to make it stop. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, but the sobs kept coming. All the while, you clung tightly to Bradley’s body, his arms secure around you.

You don’t know how long you sat there, crying and clinging to one another on the couch, when the thought came to you. Mustering all the strength you could, you muttered the words into his soft shirt. “Is it over now?” 

“What, baby?” Bradley asked, and you sucked in as much air as you could, letting it out slowly. You pulled away just enough to look up into his dark eyes. 

“It’s over now, right? He can’t…he can’t hurt me anymore, right?” 

Bradley’s expression softened, and he ran his hand up and down your back. “No, he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. I promise.”

____

Six Months Later 

You woke up to Bradley’s lips on your skin. 

You were laying on your stomach, face pressed into the smooth material of your pillow. The sheet had pooled near your hips as you slept and you could feel the warmth of sunbeams through the thin curtains on the window contrasted with the cool air from the ceiling fan spinning above on your bare back. Bradley pressed kisses along your shoulder blades, featherlight touches that had you wondering if maybe you were still dreaming. But then you felt his fingers tracing up the indents of your spine and you knew this was real. You shivered in delight, a sleepy moan escaping into the pillow before you rolled over. 

“Morning, Bug,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help but shudder again at the sound of it. You opened your eyes to see Bradley propped on his side, head supported by one hand. With the other, he traced the outline of your collarbone. 

You smiled and reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Morning, handsome.” You leaned in for a kiss, relishing the feel of his warm lips on yours. “What time is it?”

“It’s still early. I couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d wake you up instead.” The next kiss was deeper, and you felt your body starting to respond to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and after a moment, he chuckled against your lips. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look at him. 

“Nothing.” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Just happy to finally wake up here with you.” 

You hummed in response and smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. 

It was almost hard to believe that just six months ago, you had been in the middle of a nightmare. It had been a whirlwind since then. You had started a new job that you absolutely loved and that you were thriving in. Paul had been arrested and charged with assault, stalking, and breaking and entering. You had been granted a restraining order against him, even though hopefully you wouldn’t need it for a while while he served out his sentence. 

Bradley had been there every step of the way. He never pushed, never pressured you into anything you weren't ready for. He just held you close, listened when you needed to talk, and loved you fiercely. 

You had decided pretty soon after the incident that you wanted a fresh start together, in a place completely on your own. You had found a cute little house that suited both of your needs. It was the exact same distance to work for both of you, had a spare bedroom and an office that you would utilize on your work from home days, and a small yard where maybe you could get the dog you had both been joking about for awhile. It wasn’t totally updated and would need some work, but it was perfect. You were in the middle of closing when Bradley had gotten deployment papers in the mail. He was scheduled to leave a week before you were planning on moving in, and would be gone for nine weeks. You had talked, briefly, about putting everything off. He knew that you were still working through a lot, and he hadn’t wanted to put the pressure of moving into a new house completely on you. 

But you had been tired of feeling weak and dependent. So you had smiled and kissed him and told him that it would be okay. You waved him off with tears in your eyes while you watched the carrier ship pull away, and then you went back to his apartment and finished packing boxes. You were determined to make the house you had purchased together into a home for him to return to, and that was exactly what you had done. He had looked around in wonder when you brought him home just yesterday. It was the first night you had spent together, and it had made all the stress worth it. 

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “What are you thinking about?” 

You smiled and snuggled closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “Just how lucky I am to have you,” you whispered. 

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you tighter. “I’m the lucky one,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know.” 

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. He brushed his nose against yours when he pulled away, and for a long moment, you just laid there together, sharing the same breath. “I think we should take a trip,” he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence you had fallen into. 

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You just got home.” 

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I have a few weeks of leave, and you have some PTO saved up. Maybe we can go this weekend.” 

“Did you have somewhere specific in mind?” you asked, deciding to humor him. A playful sparkle that almost looked mischievous crept into his dark brown eyes and he nodded, kissing you again. 

“I was thinking of a cabin in the mountains. I might know a place with a good hot tub.”  

You felt a flutter in your chest at the thought of the first trip you had taken together to just the place he was describing, and how it had been the perfect escape. It was the first time you had expressed that you loved one another. You hadn’t been back since, but you had thought of it, every once in a while. Clearly he had too. It would just be the two of you, secluded away from reality, able to enjoy each other's company without any distractions. 

You smiled up at him, and he returned the gesture, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Sounds amazing," you said, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body. The kiss quickly turned passionate, and before you knew it, you were lost in each other - just the way you should be. 

-Fin-

-------------

Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: And there we have it. Thank you so much for everyone who stuck around. Can't believe we made it🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. This one is for the two of you.

And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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[macabr3-barbi3]

I'd like to request a reader stumbling upon Alastor and a deer having a squeaking contest in the woods. I don't know why I need it but I need it because squeaking contest. Thank you

Hello! I hope this scratches the itch for you, it was super cute and fun to write ❤️🦌

You were perhaps a bit early for your meeting with Alastor, but you didn’t think he would mind as you eased open the door to his hotel room and let yourself in. You had been regularly spending time together for a few months now since you had started staying at the hotel, and normally you shared an evening cup of tea about an hour later than you currently were. 

Alastor wasn’t in his room when you stepped inside though, the fire going but no sign of the Radio Demon. You set the new tea you had brought along for the two of you to try on the table near his armchairs and wander further into the room.

He might be in his bayou dimension, you figure. It wasn’t like him to be outside the hotel at this time of the night, so unless he was down at the bar or something he had to be out in the swamp. You had been itching to take a closer look at the ecosystem anyway, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind if you took a look around.

Stepping over the threshold from bedroom to bayou, the difference was immediately noticeable- the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer, more tangible. You follow the path that’s been eroded into the earth through the trees, marveling at the world that Alastor has created here. It was beautiful, the stars shining through the canopy of trees above you, green-tinted moon casting a faint glow on the flora and little creatures you could see skittering about. Maybe he wouldn’t be too averse to having your tea out here sometimes- iced, since it was a bit hotter, but you didn’t think he would mind.

A faint squeaking noise draws your attention, feet halting as you try to pinpoint the direction it had come from. A moment of silence, and then you hear it again coming from your left. You slip your shoes off to muffle the sound of your feet in the grass and creep towards the sound.

You’ve found Alastor, at least- he’s bent at the waist and face to face with a baby deer, ears flattened against his head and his smile thin. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sight, and then the fawn makes the noise that you had followed; high pitched and cute, it makes you smile, grin widening when Alastor glares at the tiny creature and imitates the sound.

They go back and forth several times, the squeaking increasing in volume and length and Alastor getting progressively more frustrated. You hadn’t even known that he could make a noise like that, so sweet and soft and genuinely deerlike that it finally makes you giggle, the fawn taking off into the darkness of the woods and Alastor standing to his normal height, ears pointing skyward as his eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“What,” he inquires, “are you doing out here?” 

“What am I doing out here? You were in some kind of squeaking contest with a baby deer- so cute by the way-”

“My actions are none of your concern.” He turns his head away from you, but even in the dim lighting you can see the faint blush to his complexion.

“Come on, Al,” you tease lightly, not wanting to actually anger him. “You can tell me- did the fawn offer you its soul if you could out-adorable it? You were doing a great job from what I could see.”

“If you must know, it was a riveting argument about the state of my bayou- whatever level of ‘cuteness’ you apply to it is merely a byproduct of the conversation. Since you’ve scared the damned thing off, I shall have to resume the conversation another time.” His smile is tense, leaning into your personal space. “You will speak of this to no one,” he says, brushing his hands off on his suit jacket. “Know that it is only the faintest sliver of platonic affection keeping your afterlife uninterrupted.”

“Gotcha,” you agree. “Big scary Radio Demon? Not cute in the slightest; I have no evidence to the contrary if anyone asks. You have my word.” You place a hand over your heart in mock-seriousness, and know that you’ve won him over when he scoffs and his smile softens. “Now come on, I brought a new tea for us to try- back to society!” You’re already contemplating how to make him make that squeaking noise again; maybe if you asked nicely he would do it for you, or perhaps you’d have to startle him into it-

“It’s not even a mile back to the room, and this is hardly the wilderness,” he complains, but he follows you anyway, your nefarious plot unnoticed.

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

[arcanarubinaito]

What are your thoughts on how an extroverted, confident, energetic MC would be with Muriel as an LI? (🪶)

Thank you for the ask, Feather Anon! I’ve been itching to do some creative writing outside of my story, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing this more like a short story/narrative style post.

Summary:

You command the room when you walk in, and everyone takes notice. He loves that about you; being riddled with constant social anxiety himself, it’s nothing short of a relief for Muriel to see that you don’t have to deal with it yourself. (Besides, it doesn’t hurt that it takes the attention off of him.)

He’s just worried that you’ll feel isolated and alone if you move in with him.

It’s exactly a month after the defeat of Lucio and The Devil, and everyone had gathered to celebrate together in the Rowdy Raven. He tries to stick to a corner in the back, but he is far too large and conspicuous to avoid the attention for long. Some people stare, others are braver and approach him to exchange a few words and express thanks. Muriel wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle. He appreciates not being looked at like he was still the Scourge, thankful that people weren’t afraid of him anymore. But the only reason he was here was to see you. You had been busy helping with repairs in the city while Muriel helped those still lingering in the camp outside his home, and hadn’t had much time to really talk or interact for the past week.

“You all didn’t start without me now, did you?” Your voice rings out as you stride in, and Muriel slumps back against the wall with relief. He watches some of the crowd clamor to get your attention as Julian passes you a beer stein, giving him room to breathe.

You look a little tired, he notices, but your face is practically glowing. Your eyes meet across the room and you light up even further, drawing a slight smile from Muriel’s otherwise stoic expression. He loves your smile. Immediately you chug your drink and begin pushing through the crowd, exchanging short words with a few other people before you finally reach him. He doesn’t even have the time to say ‘hello’ before you throw your arms around him in a tight hug that he quickly returns.

“God, I missed you so much.” You groan, tilting your head back to look up at him. Muriel lifts his hand, cradling your face gently in his large palm as he dips down to kiss your forehead—silently telling you he missed you just as much. “I didn’t have any time to visit this week and it was killing me, actually.” You stretch up on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, filling him in on all the little things he’d missed. Stuffy nobles complaining that they weren’t getting their homes repaired sooner, and Nadia putting them in their place. Helping Portia and the other kitchen staff with preparing food for all the displaced citizens. Julian and Asra, busy with healing and helping reunite separated families and friends.

He listens to you ramble on with a soft smile, and follows as you take his arm and lead him to the bar. “—but now I think I’ll have a lot of down time, which means I can spend more time with you.” Muriel’s smile widens a little more at that, and he can feel his face warm up when you shoot him a wink. Yeah, he knows what that means all too well. “Hey Lavinia, let’s get a round of black mead for everyone!” You call across the bar, knocking your hand against the wood loudly. “And put it on Jules’ tab!”

“Wait what—?”

A short laugh breaks past Muriel’s lips at Julian’s indignant squawk, and he catches a shit-eating grin plastered over your face as you settle onto one of the stools. Two mugs of the dark liquor slide across the bar towards you both, Muriel putting his hand out to gently stop them before they fall off and passing one to you. “What did he do to deserve that?” He asks, amused. You hide your smirk with your mug.

“Nothing.” You rest your chin in one hand. “I’ll pay it off myself, his reaction is just funny.”

“That’s a little mean.”

“It is a little mean, yeah.” You laugh, eyes glittering with mirth. The firelight reflects like spots of amber in your eyes, and he’s reminded of that first night. Your worried face and gentle hands cast in the soft glow of the fireplace, and the begrudging step he had taken to trust you just a little. The best decision he’s ever made, really. Muriel reaches forward to brush some stray hairs out of your eyes without thinking.

A few ‘awww’s scattered from the crowd made him flinch and quickly withdraw, his face hot with embarrassment. Muriel hides his burning face with a quick swig from the wooden mug in his hand and turns his back to the crowd quickly. He had been so swept up in the moment that he forgot you both weren’t alone, and many pairs of eyes were on you at any given moment.

Your hand touches the side of his face lightly, reassuring and gentle. Grounding him for a little longer and soothing that surge of anxiety and embarrassment. His eyes flicker in your direction again briefly before he roots his stare on the mug in his hands again. “You want to head back early?” You suggest softly. Muriel lowers his mug. He wants to say yes; he’s by far had his fill of socializing today and just wants to wind down somewhere quiet and familiar. But he hesitates. You only just got here, and he knows how much you enjoy these gatherings. You thrive off of social interactions, would it be selfish for him to ask you to leave so soon?

“We don’t have to.” Muriel finally says, begrudgingly, forcing himself to look back up at you. He can stick it out a little while longer for your sake, just as you’ve done for him before. It’s loud and crowded and his anxiety is already going haywire, and god his head is starting to hurt too. But he can suck it up.

“I really don’t mind going home if you need to.” You reply. He watches your eyes drift past him, your hand waving off someone behind him quickly before your gaze returns to meet his. “I know this isn’t exactly where you’re most comfortable.” That was an understatement if Muriel had ever heard one.

Wait. Go back. Did you say ‘home?’

Gently, you pull him away from the bar, guiding him through the swirling crowd towards the back door. He reaches out to push it open for you, his fingertips lingering on the wood for only a moment before you whisk him down the alleyway to a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes. His eyes widen a little, and he lifts his hand to curl it over the one you cup his cheek with. “You said ‘home.’” Muriel breathes out. Your face softens a little, a smile creeping up on your lips.

You’ve hidden yourselves among some crates stacked up between the buildings, a nearby street lamp casting your faces into wild shadows. “Yeah, I did.” You confirm, moving your hand so that your fingers are twined together now. You dip your head down, kissing the tops of his knuckles with a sweet brush of your lips that sends a jolt of electricity through Muriel’s body. “I’d like to move in with you—if you want, I mean.” You add on quickly.

Muriel’s heart hammers in his chest. “What about the shop?” He asks, his voice a little more breathless than he would’ve liked.

“The shop is a little bit crowded these days—” Right, Julian had moved in. Muriel tries (and fails) to resist the urge to make a face at the thought of the doctor living with Asra. “—and I’m not exactly selling anything right now either.” You continue, tilting your head to the side just a little. “And it’s so far from your place.”

“My place is also far from everything else.” He points out quietly. Muriel wants nothing more than for you to move in with him, to make that little hut feel more like a little home. But would it be too far from Vesuvia, and all your friends? Would you be happy, or would you start to feel isolated and alone?

“I know.” You guide him out of his thoughts with a soft voice and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “And I’m okay with that.” He searches your gaze, finding only love and warmth, and that gleam of pure conviction he knows so well. His shoulders relax just a little bit and his thumb rubs along the back of your hand idly while he listens. “It isn’t really all that long of a walk to get to the city. It just feels… It just feels too far from you.” You smile up at him and he practically melts, lips twitching up into a faint smile.

“I want you to be happy.” Muriel confesses softly. He brings his other hand up to envelope yours in his large and calloused palm.

“And I’m happy whenever I’m with you.” You stretch up on your toes, and he leans down just a little to meet you halfway, stealing a soft and sweet kiss—thankfully, without anyone around to see. Muriel sneaks a glance around just to double check before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, one steady hand at your waist and the fingers of his other twined gently through your hair. He can feel your hands rest against his chest for a moment before you reach up to hold his face in your ever-gentle hands.

He pulls away just slightly, your warm breath mingling with his against the cool night air. “I love you.” Muriel murmurs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile. He moves his hand to brush an errant lock of hair out of your eyes, studying them. Muriel wasn’t one for eye contact, but it was so easy for him to get lost in your eyes. They always reflected the light so beautifully, and tonight was no exception; the light of the street lamp mingled with the moonlight, casting your eyes in a contrast of gold and silver.

“I love you too.” You murmur. Your thumb lightly brushes along his cheek and traces along his scar tenderly, sending a soft shiver down his spine. Muriel shifts, his lips meeting the spot just between your eyebrows before he pulls away, his hands resting on your waist. You tilt your head back a little to look up at him, letting your hands settle back on his shoulders before sliding them down his arms and resting them against his biceps, just above his elbows.

“… yeah. I think I’d like to go home now.” He murmurs, finally answering your question from before. Your smile widens a little and you take hold of his hand as you both finally pull away from where you were hidden and start to walk down the street.

[minghaoyoudoin]

Darling - Epilogue

pairing: mafia boss!hyunjin x mafia boss!fem!reader

genre: some residual angst (very little), smut, sooo much fluff

words: 4.3k

warnings: explicit sexual content, bad language, these two are so stinkin' cute and I'm mad about it (even though I wrote them lol)

a/n: I can't believe this series is finally finished! thank you to everyone who has stuck with it, this au will always have a very special place in my heart. I hope y'all enjoy reading, please leave a like and reblog if you do!

part one here!

part two here!

part three here!

part four here!

You stared blankly into the mirror, taking in your appearance. To anyone else, you were certain you looked the same. Your eyes the same shade, your hair the same length, the small scars decorating your body still ever-present. But you could have sworn there was a newfound glow to your skin–a careful hope in your expression that never would have been there before. And, of course, there was the ring now glittering on your left hand.

Despite what anyone said, there was a freedom that came with revenge. An emptiness, too, though you weren’t keen on evaluating that sadness just yet. Even if you wanted to, the man who had just entered the bathroom door behind you chased any thoughts of it from your mind.

A sly smile crept across Hyunjin’s face when he saw you. His eyes roved over your body, drinking in the bikini you wore through the mirror. He strode forward as if he couldn’t quite help himself, his hands ghosting across your skin while you leaned into his bare chest. He, too, was dressed for the beach, his hair already crusted with seawater and wavy around his face.

Fiji looked incredible on him. You had only arrived here a few hours ago and his skin was already flushed with sun, the salty sea air making his lean muscles glisten with sweat. You couldn’t get enough of him.

You leaned further into his chest, allowing your head to rest on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We made it,” you said, your voice no more than a sigh. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, directly over the small scar where Mr. Chae’s blank had once fired.

He turned you in his arms so you faced him. You ran a fingernail over the long vertical scar in the center of his chest, the only physical evidence either of you had of that night. The scar had faded over the past four months, though it was still rosy and puckered compared to the skin around it. Hyunjin insisted it didn’t hurt, but you still found yourself being unconsciously gentle when you touched the area. He was completely healed now, aside from the mental wounds left on both of you.

You would never forgive Jihyo. It didn’t matter that she was gone–she had paid the blood debt she’d earned by murdering your father. Somehow, though, you felt that she had left this earth without atoning for attempting to murder Hyunjin, too. It was an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, but your therapist–one Felix had insisted you get–said the feeling would lessen with time. You weren’t so sure, but it didn’t hurt to hope.

Hyunjin seemed to notice the direction your thoughts had taken, because his gaze softened as he ran his thumb over your jaw. “I’m right here, Wife.”

You smiled despite yourself. “I can see that, Husband.”

“What do you say we blow off going back to the beach?” Hyunjin kneaded your ass in his hands, pulling your hips flush against his. Your skin flamed. “I think the guys will be fine building sand castles without us.”

You pretended to consider, pointedly ignoring the half-hard length you felt poking your lower stomach. That was how it always was, nowadays. Hyunjin had accepted your “no sex” challenge all those months ago, obviously convinced you would break before he did. You hadn’t. Even after the doctor had cleared him for sex, both of you had been too painfully stubborn to crack first. It made for a lot of cold showers and restless nights.

Now, the evening of your wedding day, the challenge had officially come to its end at a draw. Hyunjin had a half-crazed spark in his eye at all times, looking prepared to jump your bones at the drop of a hat. You were a little surprised he hadn’t bent you over the second the officiant declared you husband-and-wife.

At your silence, Hyunjin looked close to vibrating out of his skin. You shook your head coyly. “I want to go back to the beach. Lee Know and Seungmin will kill each other if we’re not there to mediate.” Your husband threw his head back and unabashedly groaned.

“Fine. I live to serve you, Viper Queen.” You swatted Hyunjin’s shoulder and he pretended to look wounded. He palmed himself through his swim shorts, grimacing. “I’m almost convinced you’re trying to finish what Jihyo started.”

“Not funny,” you griped.

Hyunjin threw his arm around you, grinning by way of answering, and led you out of the beach cabana the two of you had rented for your honeymoon. You greedily inhaled the warm air, scented with salt and brine, as you walked towards the water. Your residence was on the beach itself, much to your delight, and the second you stepped outside your toes squished between fine grains of white sand.

Just out of reach of the waves, indeed building sand castles, were Hyunjin’s Family. Your Family, you mentally corrected yourself. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. Your heart felt full to bursting at the sight of them, the air filled with competitive shouts and screams when one of them sabotaged other castles.

You didn’t mind that Hyunjin’s inner circle had accompanied the two of you on your honeymoon. They were, after all, his personal protection detail, and yours now, too. Then there was the fact that they were your best friends, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of telling them that.

You and Hyunjin weren’t acknowledged as you settled on the sand a few meters away, you between his legs with your back pressed to his front. Jeongin, foregoing stealth altogether, sprinted to Seungmin’s sand castle and kicked a turret over with a screech of joy.

Seungmin’s head whipped in your direction, his eyes wide with rage. “Did you see that?” He leapt to his feet and Jeongin only had a moment to look panicked before he turned and ran. “I am going to KILL YOU!”

Your laughs mixed with Hyunjin’s, low and warm in your ear. It was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard. You settled further into your husband, still not able to quite wrap your head around the word.

You’d made it. Both of you. Not only were you in Fiji, the place you had spoken of as an impossible dream for years, but you were married. No longer enemies, no longer king and queen of rival empires, but the royalty of one. Your fathers, for all their sins and flaws, rested easy in their graves.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear. You shivered when his warm breath tickled your scalp, raising goosebumps.

“I’m thinking that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you said without hesitation. “I’m thinking that our friends are idiots, but I love them.” You tilted your head to the side so your lips ghosted across his. “And I love you.”

He shuddered lightly. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

“GET A ROOM!”

You jumped but didn’t move away from Hyunjin at Changbin’s abrupt exclamation. You smiled into each other, certainly looking like a pair of lovesick idiots to everyone around you. It didn’t matter.

You were here, in Fiji, and for the first time in your life, you believed everything was going to be okay.

~~~

Seungmin, despite Jeongin’s attempt at sabotage, won the sand castle contest. He’d done a victory dive into the ocean, the rest of them following suit, while you cackled and took pictures. You stayed at the beach until dusk, watching the sunset with your Family and eating soggy sandwiches and fresh fruit until you were full to bursting.

The rest of the boys waved goodbye and offered parting hoots and suggestive hand movements when you separated for the night. They were staying in the cabana attached to yours, all seven of them crammed into the three bedroom house for the next two weeks. The only one who didn’t look elated about it was Lee Know.

You released a nervous breath when Hyunjin closed the glass sliding door behind you, blocking out his friends’ antics. You just stared at one another for a long moment, basking in the wonder of the moment.

“Convincing me to marry you wasn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me, was it?” You joked tightly. You had no idea why you were so nervous–it’s not like you hadn’t done this countless times with him before.

Hyunjin smiled, as always seeing your humor for what it was, and jokingly rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes, you’ve caught me. I still hate you and I’m going to kill you while I’m inside you.”

Your mouth dried slightly at his words but you snorted. “You’d have to catch me first.”

Both of you froze. You hadn’t intended to challenge him. You immediately caught your misstep when Hyunjin’s eyes darkened, a slow smile spreading across his face. Your core tightened, both with nerves and excitement as he ran his tongue over his full bottom lip.

“Run.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned and bolted, an exhilarated giggle breaking from your chest when you heard Hyunjin’s footfalls pursuing you. You sprinted around the corner into the hall, nearly knocking a painting off the wall with your shoulder. Hyunjin was giggling too, the sound sweeter than any song you’d ever heard.

You catapulted into the bedroom and, though ending up in that location wasn’t completely intentional, Hyunjin snorted knowingly anyway. You scrambled over the massive bed until you were on its opposite side, bracing your hands on the mattress as you and Hyunjin stared at one another. You were both panting and out of breath from the chase, wide smiles of equal intensity gracing both of your faces.

You feinted to the side as if you’d try to run around the foot of the bed, taking advantage of Hyunjin’s lunge to climb across the mattress again. Unfortunately, despite your flawless battle tactic, Hyunjin didn’t fall for it. He caught you around the waist as soon as you were within reach, effortlessly pulling you down with him until you were flat on the covers, his body half-blanketing yours.

He gazed down at you, grinning and as out of breath as you were. Your breaths calmed, though your smile didn’t fade as you gently trailed your fingertips across Hyunjin’s cheekbone. His skin was smooth and warm, a pretty blush staining his cheeks.

By the time he kissed you, your nerves had quieted. You kissed him back at a languid pace, neither of you battling for dominance or fucking the other’s mouth like you usually did. This kiss was sweet and loving, a promise for a thousand more kisses like it over the decades to come. For once, the thought of spending the rest of your life with Hyunjin didn’t terrify you the way it once did.

Your skin heated against his, your peaked nipples scraping against the material of your swimsuit. You whined quietly when Hyunjin palmed your breast, simultaneously rolling his hips against your core. Your fingers dug into his ribcage then drifted down to his hips, urging him to increase the pace.

After nearly six months of celibacy, you thought you would go insane with your need for him. Hyunjin seemed to share the sentiment, because he loosed an unrestrained moan into your mouth when your hand snaked between you to palm his clothed length. He was already fully hard, an observation which sparked smug pleasure in your chest.

“Not going to run away this time?” He teased against your lips. His tone was strained, shaking with his need to feel you squeezing around his cock. If he wasn’t in your mouth or your pussy in the next five minutes his brain was going to melt out of his ears.

You just moaned instead of verbalizing a response, mostly because the sane part of your brain had already clocked out for the evening. You were going mad with need.

You rolled so you straddled him, pleased by the adoring look on his face as he gazed up at you. Your fingers found the tie at the back of your bikini top, taking your sweet time pulling it loose. Hyunjin growled low in his throat, an obvious command to hurry the hell up. You smiled to yourself as your top fell from you, baring your breasts to him. He wasted no time sitting up so he could suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You both groaned in unison, you at the sensation and he at the taste of your skin.

You ground your hips in slow circles on his lap while he doted on your breasts, switching between them when he felt compelled to do so. He thrusted up against your heat, eliciting moans from your chest. You were already cresting dangerously close to your orgasm and he hadn’t truly done anything yet.

You gently pushed him into a lying position by his shoulders and moved down his body, enjoying the way his eyes focused hard on your every movement. His pupils were blown so wide with lust that only a thin sliver of brown remained. You pressed openmouthed kisses to the skin between his navel and waistband, his knees, the inside of his thighs–you left a love bite anywhere your lips made contact.

He lifted his hips off the bed so you could slide his swimsuit down his legs and his hard cock sprang free, his arousal already gathering at the tip in thick beads. Your inner thighs clenched together, slick enough that you doubted he’d need to prep you at all before he fucked you. Just the thought of the stretch made you dizzy. You were somewhat surprised the two of you had made it this long without exploding.

You experimentally swirled the tip of your tongue across his head. Hyunjin’s hips jerked at once and he released a vulgar moan. He looked so pretty with his eyes screwed shut, his face and chest flushed, that you couldn’t help but moan lightly yourself. You wasted no more time before you wrapped your lips around his cock and hollowed your cheeks.

His fingers tangled in your hair, and you weren’t sure whether he was trying to make you go faster or stop you as you bobbed your head on him. Hyunjin moaned senselessly, his balls already spasming in your hand every few seconds. Each sound he made fueled you to go faster, harder, so intent on making him cum that you could think of nothing else. You willed your throat to relax and ignored your gag reflex with a vengeance when his cock slipped in deeper.

Yet, for old times sake, you released him just as his orgasm threatened to break. Hyunjin didn’t seem surprised, but it didn’t stop him from loosing a frustrated groan when your mouth rose off his cock with a lewd pop. You smiled lazily up at him as he glared down at you, his chest heaving. Even if you didn’t know him so well, you would have known he was close by the tremor in his limbs alone.

You pressed a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. “Color, Mr. Hwang?”

Hyunjin yanked you onto the bed with enough force that you yelped. You were beneath him in less than a second, his body half-blanketing yours. He shoved your bikini bottoms down your legs and split you with two of his fingers, sinking inside you to his knuckles. You clenched around him instantly, so ready for him that you saw stars the second his fingertips brushed against your g-spot.

He let out a shuddering breath into the shell of your ear at the feeling of you around his fingers. “Green, Mrs. Hwang. And you?” He thrusted his hand for emphasis, his thumb pressing gently on your throbbing clit. You captured his mouth with your own in answer. He didn’t reprimand you for not answering verbally–he was too far gone with desire to bother. Hyunjin just moaned into your mouth at your eagerness, his tongue exploring yours with the hunger of a man starved.

His fingers increased their pace, pounding into you hard enough that all you could do was yelp. Your leg hooked over his, your hand clasped hard around the back of his neck for stability. He watched your face through heavy-lidded eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering each time you reacted to his movements.

You were lost in sensations. At some point you stopped kissing him, instead pulling him until his forehead pressed against yours. Your lips still touched as you panted into one another’s mouths, catapulting so quickly towards your orgasm that you could barely open your eyes.

“Gonna cum?” His taunting question was weakened by his breathlessness. He was completely enamored by you, by every change in your expression and sound that came from your pretty lips.

“Yes yes yes, please don’t stop–” you chanted. He obeyed, his hand thrusting into your center at a pace that had your knees shaking. His thumb drew tight circles over your clit, knowing exactly the way you needed without having to tell him. Hyunjin was so focused on your pleasure that he didn’t think to edge you as you had him. Instead, he moaned with you as your high crested over you in a merciless wave.

You clenched hard around his fingers, your arousal coating his hand. He didn’t slow his movements, rather attempting to work you through your orgasm as long as he possibly could. After months without this, without him, your body felt like it was consumed by fireworks. He whispered rough praises into your ear as you came down, his hand at last slowing in time with the fluttering of your walls.

The second you were able to form a coherent thought you crushed your mouth against his. Even after the orgasm he had just gifted you, you were nowhere near done. He made a surprised noise into your mouth as you rolled, stopping when you were straddled across his hips.

He traced a gentle finger across the curve of your breast at the same moment he licked the fingers on his other hand clean of your arousal. He held your gaze until every last drop of you was gone. You shuddered, certain your face was dark with lust by the gleam of anticipation bright in Hyunjin’s eyes.

You ground your hips in hard, slow circles over Hyunjin’s cock. Between his wetness and yours, his length slid easily through your folds. You groaned in unison as you rocked back and forth, his tip barely catching in your entrance on each pass. When at last you couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted so you could fit his head into you.

He gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place above him. “I’m not going to last long,” he admitted shyly, his voice shaky. You offered him a predatory smile, allowing your intentions to shine on your face.

You slammed down onto him before he could say anything else. Hyunjin’s head kicked back into the mattress, releasing a whine that had your walls clenching again. You stilled, your muscles locking from the shock of taking all of his impressive length so quickly. Neither of you could manage to speak, silently attempting to adjust to the fit without cumming too soon.

When you’d reached your limit, you said through clenched teeth, “Color?”

“Just–” Hyunjin gasped, his eyes closed “–give me a moment.” If you so much as breathed wrong he was going to cum. Somehow, over these months, he’d managed to forget how incredible your tight warmth felt around him.

After what could have been seconds or minutes, Hyunjin exhaled deeply. “Green, baby. Do your worst.”

Thank god.

You lifted until just the tip of his cock was inside you and slammed back down, the stretch making both of you gasp. It didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated, thankfully, and that realization was the only permission you needed to let go. You rolled your hips on him faster, harder, tight whimpers escaping your throat with every stroke. You trailed your hand over the scar on Hyunjin’s chest, pleased at the goosebumps that rose on his skin from the contact.

Hyunjin couldn’t seem to get a grip on himself. He jerked and moaned beneath you, seeming torn between closing his eyes and watching your breasts bounce above him. He sat up abruptly, his hands holding your ass while his mouth found your nipple. He sucked hard, as if to ground himself to reality, and you tugged harshly at the roots of his hair.

He effortlessly flipped you over without removing himself from you. The pace he began was ruthless, far swifter than the one you had set a moment ago. You raised your knees until they were nearly pressed against your chest, allowing him deeper between your walls. Hyunjin’s head fell into the junction between your neck and shoulder, and you groaned when you felt his teeth lightly clamp down onto your skin.

His hips began to stutter, their rhythm losing their usual grace. You grinned at the ceiling, your nails digging harshly into Hyunjin’s shoulders. “That’s it, baby,” you breathed, your impending orgasm taking your breath away. You chased it with lethal focus, your need to cum shuddering through your entire body. “Cum, pretty boy.”

Hyunjin groaned heavily into your hair, raising chills on your scalp. His body locked and he froze, unable to continue thrusting as his high raged through him. The sensation of his cock pulsing inside you pushed you over the edge. You came together, each twitch and pulse only drawing it out longer. He began to lightly thrust again, using your heat to draw every last drop of cum from him.

You tried and failed to catch your breath, tracing the lean muscles in his back as he gradually relaxed on top of you. Hyunjin’s weight was comfortable, his face still hidden in the crook of your neck.

You winced when he removed his softening cock from you, predictably mourning the sensation of being full the second it was gone. Hyunjin gazed down at you with nothing short of adoration on his beautiful face, his cheeks reddened and hair sex-crazed. You smiled softly, allowing your fingertip to trace the shape of his jaw.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Hyunjin kissed you gently, reverently, as he drew you into a sitting position. “And I you.”

He left the bed to retrieve a warm washcloth and some water. His process of cleaning you up was just as sensual as his foreplay, a fact which had you aching for him again far too soon. You shared the water, giggling like children each time you made eye contact.

Hyunjin sighed contentedly as he curled around you, pulling you snugly against his warm chest. You allowed your eyes to fall closed beneath the weight of him, pleased at your ability to relax in his presence.

“We just had sex in Fiji,” you giggled. It still seemed so surreal to you. What you had thought to be your life’s mission was over, and you had come out the other side unscathed and with a husband, of all things. All that was left in front of you were possibilities.

Hyunjin chuckled in your ear. “And we will again.” He pinched your ass for emphasis, eliciting a small squeak from you.

It seemed impossible that the two of you had survived so much in such a short amount of time. You were sure that there would be more dangers to come, given the sort of life the two of you led, but the thought of them didn’t scare you as they once had. Whatever life threw at you, you no longer had to face it alone.

Hyunjin’s Family had a saying, one that meant the Hwang legacy would survive even after the world turned to ash around them. You were the Viper Queen, one of the last surviving members of your bloodline, and you were fiercely loved by a man who stroked the embers in your soul until they turned to flame.

Yeah. You were going to be just fine.

Hyunjin’s lips ghosted across your temple like his thoughts were in line with yours. You turned your head so you could look at him, all too aware your eyes were glistening. His gaze softened as he returned your small smile.

“I’m very glad you’re not dead,” you said quietly. Hyunjin had said something similar once, after you survived your encounter with Mr. Chae. Only now could you understand the overwhelming relief he must have felt back then when you lived.

“So am I. You’re terrifying when I’m not here to check you.” His tone was teasing, though he certainly wasn’t wrong. You were a force to be reckoned with on your best days.

You laughed. Randomly, you remembered that your bedroom bordered the cabana your friends stayed in next door. Hyunjin followed your gaze to the wall and he grinned.

“Think they heard us?” He joked, pulling your body further into him. You both jumped in surprise at the two firm knocks that sounded on the other side of the wall. There were several long moments of shocked silence.

You both dissolved into giggles. They had most definitely heard. Embarrassment surged through you in a rush, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could only imagine how red Felix’s face was right now.

It didn’t matter. You were happy, and you had earned it. Through heartache and pain and struggle, you had battled your way to this moment. Your giggles finally subsided and you stared at Hyunjin, basking in the way he gazed back at you. He was yours, as you were his, and no one in the world could take that away.

“Until the ashes,” you murmured. Hyunjin looked near-glowing with happiness. He pressed another fierce kiss to your brow.

“Until the ashes, Mrs. Hwang.”

they finally got their happy ending 🥹 thank you again for your support during this series, please leave a like and reblog if you enjoyed reading!

masterlist here :)

© minghaoyoudoin 2022 - all rights reserved. reposts/translations not allowed. I do not assume to know the personal lives of the idol(s) depicted in this fic, this is for entertainment purposes only!

taglist: @midnightchanis, @aerastus, @a-person-with-void, @xhazmania, @coquette-amor, @lenfilms, @cyder-puff, @mongnara-deactivated20220818, I'm sorry to those of you it wouldn't allow me to tag!

[buckysimp101]

Love at First Grade (18+) - 9

Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader; Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader

chapter warning: smut

a/n: shout out to my bestie @youlightmeupfinn​ for the inspo behind the scene with Steve and Bex in this chapter!

Series Masterlist

The last week of the semester before Winter break flew by. The kids had a Holiday party in Bucky’s class and you had even brought cupcakes for everyone in celebration of Avery’s birthday. The whole class had sang Happy Birthday and you had watched on happily as your typically shy daughter introduced you to her other friends. Bucky swore that every time he saw you interact with Becca and Avery his heart grew two sizes.

Speaking of Becca, she had been begging you and Bucky all week at pickup to let Avery spend the night with her at Bucky’s mom’s house Friday night so the two of them could have a “best friend birthday sleepover.” The two of you had finally given in after making sure with Winnie that she was up to watching two rambunctious six year olds. She had assured you that she could do it, claiming her experience watching Steve and Bucky in their childhood, and she had let you know that Becca would be coming home for Christmas Friday night so you would have the opportunity to meet her on Saturday when you picked Avery up, a suspiciously knowing and pointed look on her face. But you and Bucky could care less. With Avery and Becca spending the night with his ma, it meant that Bucky could have you all to himself tonight.

The two of you tried to find at least one night a week for date night but it really was getting more and more difficult to hide it from increasingly suspicious mothers. You helped him finish cleaning up his classroom as the girls played with the dry erase markers at the white board, drawing up all the toys and presents they had asked their parents for. Even though the situationship that the two of you were in had been going on for a little over three months now, you still had not told your parents or the girls the truth, and so the two of you had made the decision not to get each other anything for Christmas as that would definitely out you to your families.

Every now and then Bucky would look up and catch your eye, a secretive grin appearing on your lips. You had informed him a few weeks ago that there was something thrilling about keeping your relationship a secret from your parents and Bucky had joked, “you must’ve been a goody two shoes, huh?” Bucky could see the truth in your eyes and it just made him laugh, you had nudged him in the ribs and told him it wasn’t funny which only spurred him on. You had brought Avery’s overnight bag when you came to the holiday party so that Winnie could pick the girls up from school and Bucky was itching to get his hands on you. Good thing he didn’t have to wait much longer because his mother showed up in her large winter coat, wide blue eyes scanning his classroom for her granddaughter and her practically adopted granddaughter. Both girls squealed as they noticed Winnie and screams of “Nana!” and “Mrs. Winnie!” echoed throughout the classroom causing you and Bucky to wince at the shrillness. You nodded a hello to Bucky’s mom and he headed to give her a hug. Wrapping his arms around her she gave Bucky her signature red lipsticked kiss on the cheek causing him to groan and you to laugh.

“Now what are your plans tonight, sweetheart? Are you sure there’s no way I can convince you to help me corral these two hoodlums?” Winnie questioned jokingly causing Bucky to chuckle in response.

“Sorry Ma, no can do. I’m going out tonight,” the words slipped past Bucky’s lips too easily and it wasn’t until he looked at you, standing behind his mom with eyes the size of sand dollars, that he realized what he’d said. Bucky held his breath as he waited for his mom to respond.

“Oh? With who?” Winnie questioned, eyes narrowing slightly as if to read Bucky’s mind.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….

“Oh with Steve. Yeah, good ole Steve. The punk and I go out to Nat’s place at the end of every semester. So. Just the two of us, couple of drinks. And then I’ll be there to see Bex bright and early,” Bucky barely stumbled his way through the lie. He chanced a look at you over his mom’s shoulder and saw you rubbing your eyes exasperatedly with your hand, but he also thought he saw a breath of relief leave you as his mom backs down from the Spanish Inquisition with a small hmph. She re-centered attention on Becca and Avery and told them to pack up their backpacks so they could both have fun at Nana’s house. Next thing Bucky knew the girls were giving you and him hugs and racing to see who could make it down the hall faster. Winnie called out a goodbye to you and told you to just pick Avery up whenever tomorrow, she’d be more than happy to watch the two girls for however long you wanted. Bucky watched you interact with his mom as she gave you a hug, his heart beating faster at the affection and attention you gave his family.

When the coast was clear and Winnie had slipped out the door with the girls Bucky snuck up behind you, slipping a hand around your waist and pulling you close to him as he kissed up your neck to your ear. You leaned into the feeling and whispered, “that was close, Barnes.” Bucky cringed internally at the way he’d tried to cover his slip up to his mom but he heard you chuckle. Obviously you weren’t upset with him so he let out a deep breath.

What you said next had his eyebrows shooting up, “it’s okay, I had to tell my mom I was seeing someone named James.” Bucky used the hand on your waist to turn you around to face him, his eyes wide and he watched you nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth. You were just as nervous as he was. “Relax, sweets. My mother is relentless and she was getting suspicious that I was having her watch Avery so often all of a sudden and she guessed. I might have a good poker face with other businessmen but she raised me. She’s the one who taught me the key components of a good poker face. She’d have sniffed a lie out in a heartbeat like a bloodhound on a scent!”

Bucky laughed at that. You sure had a way with words. He didn’t say anything, just resumed the trail of kisses up your ear so you finished, “besides, I said James. Not Bucky. So it wasn’t technically a lie. And I introduce you as either Bucky or Mr. Barnes so she won’t know it’s you on Sunday.” Sunday. A reminder that he’d be meeting your parents for the first time. Not in an official capacity, the two of you hadn’t had that conversation yet, but the thought of meeting your parents had Bucky’s palms sweaty and his heart beating faster. He wondered if this was how you felt when you met his mom. You moaned as Bucky added a little pressure to the kisses, sucking lightly and you laid your hands on his chest and pushed him away with a giggle. “Alright, Mr. Barnes. Enough fooling around, we have a dinner date to attend courtesy of our favorite Chinese restaurant and their number one delivery driver,” you added with a wink. The two of you liked going out on your dates but you loved to have dinner at home. Especially since it meant the two of you didn’t have very far to go if you wanted to…extend the date. Bucky groaned but acquiesced and offered your ass a swat as the two of you finished cleaning up his classroom.

After loads of food and a few drinks you and Bucky were snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. The way you two were laying gave you the perfect opportunity to play with Bucky’s hair. Bucky loved it when you played with his hair, he swore if he could purr like a cat he’d do so every time you messed with it. When Bucky had cut his hair a few days ago he’d been nervous that you would be put off by the length change but you had ensured him you’d be able to grab on still, the statement followed with a wink. Bucky paused the movie and stretched, causing you to tumble into him. “Wanna drink?” he asked as he moved to your kitchen, the two of you had been getting used to each other’s spaces and had an open fridge policy. You nodded and headed to sit at the counter as Bucky poured you a drink.

“So anything else I should know about meeting your the famous L/N’s?” Bucky questioned as he took a sip of his wine. You answered with a long sip of your own glass, brows furrowed together in thought.

“Well, my dad is a grumpy retiree, part of the reason he got his nickname Grumps is because Avery heard us calling him grumpy all the time and it must have stuck out,” Bucky huffed out a laugh at the statement and so you continued, “my mom is pretty blunt but she loves me and she loves Avery so she’s always got our best interests at heart. Even if she appears to go about it in the wrong way sometimes.”

Bucky raised his eyebrow in question there and you just waved off his concern, that’s a story for another time then, Bucky thought to himself. Bucky took the moment of silence that followed to study you. The way your tongue poked out to clean the wine off your lips, the way your breasts moved up and down with every breath. The way your face and eyes softened as you talked about your family. So Bucky did what come to mind next. He leaned in, bringing his hands to cup your face, and slotted his lips over yours. His tongue tangling with your own and tasting the wine and you. Oh Bucky loved the way you tasted on his tongue and if he could go everyday of his life with that reminder of what you taste like in this moment he would. Okay brain, that’s new, Bucky cut off the train of thought his brain was heading towards and deepened the kiss. You responded in kind and pressed your body as close to him as possible. The kiss heating up until Bucky’s next reaction was to pick you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and take you to the couch, it was the closest possible location, and lay you down while not breaking the kiss once. You ground your hips into him and all Bucky could do was try not to moan into your mouth. Try being the key word. He could feel your lips turning up into a smile at the way he was mere putty in your hands.

When the two of you broke for air Bucky leaned his head against your forehead, trying to catch his breath, when that breath turned into a loud moan as you cupped him through his pants. You giggled, fucking giggled, at the moaning mess of a man in front of you and that’s when Bucky started to rid you of your clothes. Your shirt, then your pants, and when you were left bare before him all Bucky could do was marvel at you, his pants growing tighter as he grew harder. You seemed to bask in the attention and so Bucky did what any sane man would do. He knelt down in front of you and pressed soft kisses from your ankle up your thighs, pushing one leg open while he draped the other over his shoulder, his head level with your wet heat. And for a brief second he looked up at you. Your eyes were on fire. He could tell you were seconds away from digging your heel into his shoulder and moving him to where you needed him most, so he leaned forward and flattened his tongue over your entrance up to your clit, and closing his lips around the delicate bud.

A breathy moan fell from your lips as your head fell back, Bucky’s lips quirking up at the sound, satisfied, he began to eat you out with a fervor. As if you were his last meal on earth he lapped at your entrance, switching between your pussy and your clit, changing the pressure up and eventually adding two fingers when you were nice and ready. Bucky could feel your leg over his shoulder shaking and he knew you were close so he picked up the pace, licking at your clit while his fingers scissored into and out of your tight channel until you were cumming on his tongue. The taste of you, sweet and tangy, filling his senses as he worked you through your orgasm, finally your body shivered and your hand wrapped in his hair, pulling him to your mouth in a hot kiss. Your tongues battled for dominance and Bucky must have been paying more attention to that because the next thing he knew, he was on his back on the couch and you were on your knees, unbuckling his jeans and pulling down his underwear.

Bucky could’ve cum then and there at the mere sight of you on your knees for him. You took in the sight of his erection and next thing Bucky knew he was willing every god he could think of to keep him from cumming too fast. This obviously wasn’t the first time you had given him a blowjob but Bucky swore it was magical every time. When you adjusted to take him into your throat he bucked his hips uncontrollably before coming back to his senses. He looked at you with wide eyes, worried he’d taken it too far, but you just kept going, head moving up and down as you circled your tongue around his cock and used your hand to massage his balls. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fu Bucky let out a growl and he pulled you off with a pop and into his lap to kiss you senseless. You let out a breathy moan that Bucky swallowed as the kiss got hotter and hotter until all of a sudden you stopped.

Bucky whined at the loss and you just smirked, “meet me in my bedroom?” You bolted off Bucky’s lap down the hall to your bedroom and Bucky gave chance, scrambling over his downed pants as he ran to the sound of your laughter.

Bucky thought himself a generous lover and made sure over the course of the night that you were never left hanging. In the bed, in the shower, in the bed again. He’d make you cum every minute of the day if he could. Finally the two of you were falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Bucky woke up to filtered light, opening one eye he checked the alarm clock next to your bed. It read 9:30. That’s the latest I’ve slept in years, Bucky thought as he readjusted to get closer to your warmth. His movement must have jostled you because Bucky could feel the change in your body as you began to wake up. You rolled over sleepily and opened your eyes slowly to look in his, a small smile growing on his face at the sight of you. A mirrored sleepy version appearing on your own.

“Hmmm g’morning,” you mumbled as you snuggled into his chest. Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss on your head with his reply, “good morning, honey.”

The two of you laid there for a moment until Bucky moved his hand to cup your face and give you a kiss. As usual, the kiss got more and more heated until you were pinned under Bucky’s strong arms, one hand playing with your clit with his thumb and fingering you with his two fingers. You were gonna cum, Bucky could feel your walls tightening around his fingers when you reached out to still his wrist. Bucky took in your face and was about to ask if you were okay when you said, “I wanna cum on your cock, sweets. Not your fingers.”

The magic words had Bucky nodding his head and practically slamming into you in seconds. You both moaned loudly, Bucky at the feeling of you gripping him tight and sucking him back in every time. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass spurring him to go faster and so Bucky willingly obliged. Moving faster and harder until you were cumming hard around his cock, Bucky pulling out at the last second to see your breasts painted in his cum. You were both breathing hard, trying to catch your breath, and Bucky rolled off to get a washcloth from the bathroom and clean you up. To his surprise, you rolled off the bed and followed him to the shower.

“Hmmm we should both probably get cleaned up,” you purred in his ear.

Bucky smirked and kissed you, as he pulled away he whispered, “you’re a little minx, you know that?” To which you just responded with a smirk and a wink as you turned on the shower.

After another round in the shower and finally actually showering, the two of you were changing clothes, more like playing a game to see who could prevent the other from getting dressed first, his lips on yours, your hand dipping into his waistband, when you let out a sound like a cross between a squeal and a giggle.

“Bucky! We have to go get the girls!! It’s 11:30!” You exclaimed, hurriedly throwing on your shoes as Bucky sprang into action. The two of you hopped into your cars, to prevent any lingering suspicions from an already suspicious mother.

You pulled up at Winnie’s house at the same time and just as Bucky’s hand reached the door to knock it was flung open by none other than Steve, looking at the two of you with a knowing look on his face. Bex was right behind him with Avery and Becca holding each hand and talking excitedly. Neither of the girls had even noticed their parents were back. Bex stared at Bucky and when her eyes flitted to you she just had a knowing smirk on her face. Steve cleared his throat and announced, “oh hey, Buck! There you are. Winnie called this morning, asked if I had seen you since last night because you weren’t here yet,” he emphasized pointedly before adding, “so I told her you had slept in and that I’d come help her and Bex with these two hoodlums, so we’re going to get ice cream, good luck with your mom!”

Avery and Becca spared a moment to say hi to their parents before they were chattering with each other again, their parents not knowing what to do with the lack of attention from the girls. But it wasn’t the girls that was eyeing them. It was Bex. She looked you and Bucky up and down before a wicked gleam crossed her eyes. As the trio passed, Bex leaned in and whispered to Bucky “might wanna check your fly before you go and see mom. And maybe fix your hair it’s looking a little…mussed,” before winking in your direction and walking to Steve’s car with the girls. All you and Bucky could do was stand there and laugh. You two laughed so hard you almost fell over. But Bucky zipped his pants and you did a quick fix of his hair before joining Winnie in the house as you waited for your girls to come back.

taglist (to be added just let me know! also if there is a * next to a username it’s because tumblr wouldnt let me tag!):

@youlightmeupfinn

@la-undercover-latina

@jackiehollanderr

@fab-notfat

@galaxy-dusk

@asoftie4bucky

@fangirlvoice

@queenbeecandi

@babyevansblog

@stevihj

@sherlockstrangewolf

@notavintagecliche

@justsomebodyweird*

@katiecg

@wintasssoldier

@snufflet

@buckrecs

@missvelvetsstuff

@selluequestrian

@dhoruwolfie

[thatsnotmygunflash]

Hi! For the prompts -- Coldflash, and firmly holding their hands in public, please! Thank you!

Hi!! So happy you sent this one, but my phone died right as I was finishing it up and decided not to save it. 😅 Teaching me not to trust this app at all when I write. I rewrote it, it's a little short, but I hope you like it!

"Let go," Len hissed in a harsh whisper, attempting to pull his hand out of Barry's vice-like grip.

"Nope," Barry happily replied, even giving their hands a playful swing. Succeeding in causing Len's teeth to grind together and drawing even more attention to their clasped hands.

"Scarlet."

"Lenny." Barry sang back, squeezing Len hand tighter when he attempted again to retreat. Barry wasn't even looking at him, too busy glaring at the closest whispering bystanders.

"I'm serious," Len bit out, huffing out a noise of frustration at Barry's quick rebuttal.

"Hi serious, I'm The Flash."

"You're not funny,"

"I'm also not going to let go of your hand," Barry replied with a shrug, his eyes softening as Len's shoulders dropped down a hair in defeat. It wasn't a noticeable change to the casual eyes, but Barry knew all of Len's tells by now.

"You don't have to do this," Len whispered softly, ignoring the Mayor's aid that rushed by with a quick "Five minutes!" in warning.

"I know. I want to do this."

"You're trying to prove a point that doesn't need to be proven."

Barry had been relentlessly trying to prove this point since The Flash and Cold went public with their relationship.

"I think it does," Barry explained, bringing their hands up to his lips to press a sweet kiss to the black leather covering Len's hand. "people can say whatever they like but that doesn't mean it's going to stop me from holding your hand whenever I want to."

The thing was, people would say things. There were people all around them. News anchors and newspaper reporters, protesting citizens and cheering ones, unhappy police officers and skeptical politicians, all of whom had their eyes on the two men holding hands just off to the side of the waiting podium. It was making Len's insides itch.

"Do I get a say in this?" Even after three months of being together Len still had a hard time dealing with Barry's overwhelming devotion.

"Nope. You decided to date me. You have to deal with the consequences."

"What a hardship for me, truly." Len responded with a light laugh, Barry nodding along seriously with the statement.

"It can be very hard loving a hero, trust me, I know."

"I'm no hero," Len said, more out of habit than truth if he was honest with himself.

"Right," Barry snorted with a pointed look around them. "Like we're not standing out here waiting for the Mayor to pardon you for helping me save the whole city last month."

Len was man enough to admit he didn't have a good comeback for that one.

"At the very least, your sister better write a decent article about us," Len grumbled as the Mayor and his team finally made their way out of city hall, ready to finally get the ceremony started.

"Come on Lenny, it's Iris. Of course she will."

[fangbangerghoul]

Hello, my lovely mutuals and fanfic readers! I am happy to be here again to share some of one of my current fics for Snippet Sunday!

Tagging: @eridanidreams, @silurisanguine, @atonalginger, @staticpallour, @5oh5, @booburry, @bearlytolerant, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, and @therealgchu (I'll leave some off, so the others have people to tag! As usual there is no requirement to participate!)

This is going to be a snippet from Chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures. I know my writing has been taking a bit longer than it did in the beginning but with my classes and winter taking a toll, it's been difficult to stick to a good writing routine.

Feel free to check out my tag #The Coemancer Crew to check out some other lovely Starfield fics and art while you wait for the update! If you are interested in joining a Starfield community I do host a Sam Coe Discord Server. Everyone under my The Coemancer Crew tag is a community member!

Chapter 9: bad decisions snippet

Ghoul exited through the doors and away from the noise to see the mess from the night before still lingering about. There was dried blood all over the place, glass bottles, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a pack of cigarettes left on one of the small crates. She swiped it before anyone else came walking by and immediately used the lighter that was with the pack to light one. Ghoul felt a small rush of relief when the smoke entered her lungs and the nicotine bled into her system. As she blew out the smoke, she saw Jessamine kick a bottle on her way out of doors from The Last Nova. She huffed something and that was when she noticed Ghoul standing there smoking the cigarette. Her dusty pink hair and yellow eyes akin to Ghoul’s always caught her attention in the bar but they never spoke much. Jessamine strode over with confidence and held out her hand, her two fingers stretched out waiting. Ghoul looked her over with a quick glance and then smirked, handing her the cigarette without protest.  “I heard Delgado is finally off your back. You must have really pissed him off.” Jessamine sounded amused at the thought and her accent sounded straight out of a Celtic fairy tale she was forced to read before. Jessamine puffed on her cigarette watching her with keen eyes. Ghoul was unsure what the approach this woman was trying to take with her, but she thought she could play along, as a distraction.  “From what I have seen, that isn’t too hard to do. He can be a real dictator sometimes.” Ghoul said with a smile they both started to walk forward as they spoke, their step-in rhythm.  “You gotta be with all the people who join, considered.” She shrugged and the slight draw on some of the vowels she pronounced were fun to hear her say. They had no destination set but aimlessly walking around The Key. It was a change of pace of what Ghoul usually did and it helped keep her mind off of her empty stomach.   “All hail the king, hmm?” Ghoul rolled her eyes at the thought. Though she knew at this point it wasn’t like she was in a position to say much, not after what she just did for Delgado.  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Jessamine laughed and stopped them in the center of the front end of The Key. The docked spaceships were on the other side of the door ahead and it seemed they were going to come full circle if they continued anymore. “When is the next time you are going on a run? Care to hire someone?”  Ghoul knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. She had heard Jessamine’s pitch a few times while drinking in the bar, but she never thought about it herself. Jessamine was itching to get off The Key which was the exact opposite of Ghoul right now. Ghoul thought perhaps maybe she should be itching to get off this damn space station. She had been locked in here for months, now she was starving again, and for that time was supposedly undercover for a government ran authority she didn’t give a shit about until she blew her own cover. Ghoul took in a deep breath and sighed before answering the eager face standing before her.  “I have a ship and that’s it.” Ghoul said with warning and her arms crossed. Her body was stiff, and she leaned back a bit with one foot pointing at Jessamine and the other out to the ships. “I didn’t ask for the ship, but Delgado relinquished it to me anyway. I don’t have any credits, but I guarantee we'll have some soon.”   Jessamine now was the one sizing her up. Ghoul could see the hesitance in her body language, and she didn’t blame her. Ghoul probably wouldn't take up her own offer.

[dropthedemiurge]

2023 Year Results

I have lost my ranking of favorite Thai BL/QLs that I made during half of the year, so I'm just going to write it anew^^

My Top BLs by the end of 2023:

1. Be My Favorite

2. Moonlight Chicken

3. Not Me

4. The Eclipse

5. Semantic Error (or if we talk only Thai series, then Bad Buddy!)

Honorable mentions: Only Friends, SOTUS, Laws of Attraction, Kieta Hatsukoi, My Ride...

I keep changing the places and Moonlight Chicken held such a strong place in my heart but now I'm also taking into account whether I liked all pairings and characters, so BMF finally took over. But I still can't decide whether The Eclipse is higher than Not Me, I might rewatch it endlessly but Not Me was a cultural reset :D As well as Semantic Error who's done so good and finally broke through the typical Korean BL setting and public's favor.

Bad Buddy has done amazingly as well but there are only 5 places in Top 5 ranking 🥲 I guess, the Our Skyy just dimmed my good memories about it a little bit x)

I love how this year we got shows that have expanded beyond the borders of usual BLs, they added mystery and mystic, action, time travelling, sitcom etc, mixed gentes, kept speaking out about many important things - from marriage legalisation to equal rights - that definitely had its own impact on real life, actors went on many fanmeetings overseas, from West to East, and overall... This was a good year, story and fandom wise.

My Fanfic Statistics

I stopped writing metas and somewhat distanced myself from the fandom when I felt that my views often didn't align with majority (and also got shadowbanned by tumblr?), but I wrote ~ 80k words on AO3 and drew >10-15 arts that I really enjoyed. I still have many wips so look forward to them!

I wrote way too many Only Friends fics whole I watched the show xD This was definitely a show that gave out ideas (and sometimes outrage) and lots of angst.

But Not Me fics are still my number one (though mostly because of all the crossovers with other series I keep writing about)

Also somehow Bad Buddy OT4 fic is now the longest fanfic I've ever written (both in Neglish and my native language). And it's still not finished but tbh even I don't know exactly how it will end, that's how self-indulgent this is but I'm so happy rhat many people were excited about this idea with me!

My Fandom

I also had a blast having various discussions in my own small community and people who wanted to share opinions and watch series together. You guys keep inspiring and supporting me in exploring many ideas, drawing art and writing many fics, I truly admire and adore you all, especially my fam @springkitten @xagan and also @thepancakelady @wereflamingo (I'm surprised how often we agreed with each other on somethjng but that's what makes discussions interesting xD).

Also I want to hug bad buddy server was a joyful discover this year too that inspired me to start learning Thai, our not me server that keeps being my safe comfort space and many hugs to some tumblr folks who I talk in replies and reblogs (I am truly bad at remembering usernames but if I ever chatted with you here, I am definitely thinking about you and your profile picture <3)

Here's to 2024 and more projects

I also started my FirstKhao AU visual novel, and though I thought I would be able to make it in a month or two and then got struck by Health Doing Bad for a long time, I'm definitely determined to finish it next year.

And we keep talking about making Poetry Zines with @springkitten inspired by lakorns/bls we watched and I'd like to try and make it happen 👀

I also want to return to commissions in a better way, because of political situation I haven't been able to continue drawing for my foreign friends but thanks to my other friends who are generous to help me with handling finances for me, I might be able to start drawing requests again! I also spent like 5 months fixing my health that kept me from creating I want to finish old ones and I'm really itching to return to drawings and other projects :D

And I have in my mind mastering pixel and 3d art as a part of my Changing Profession and Career Path in 2024 so let's hope I can lighten up everyone's mood with cooler art and animations 👀

Happy New Year and Happy holidays, everyone!

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Ooh if you're still taking prompts I'm submitting one for Parkner (can't wait for the last chapter of a peach like you btw!) I liked the idea of a combo of #8 and #46 or just #28 because werewolves!

Heeelllloooooo dear darling anon. Do you remember me? Do you still read parkner? You sent this prompt in April of 2022 and Congratulations!! I'm finally filling it over a year later 😬 sorryyy

These prompts are from this prompt list. I was tempted by 28.) werewolf au. both of them are werewolves, which was surprising bc I've been exhausted on werewolves (and vampires) for a while now, but I thought it would be fun if it was human Ned's POV scrambling to keep Peter's big hairy secret from their new roommate, Harley, that they found on craiglist, only to come home one day after months of scrambling to cover claw marks and sweep up tufts of fur to find not one but two werewolves sacked out on the couch, one blond and one brunet, and realize he'd been cleaning up after both of them and they need to have a serious conversation once they're all on two legs again.

BUT I decided not to go that route because a combo of 8 and 46 was just too alluring.

8.) every single kiss so far has been a disaster but it’s really funny + 46.) don’t have a one night stand with your coworker on the spaceship

Is your memory refreshed dear anon? Is this at all familiar? Regardless! I wrote the thing and per the norm I took it too far so here's a snippet of the beginning and a link to ao3 where you can read the other 8k assuming you still read parkner 🫠

adventures with hair dye and feelings — In Space!

or 5 times Harley and Peter don’t kiss + 1 time they do (in space!)

A light breeze stirs the early morning fog that crowds the Avengers compound and whites out the world to none but their research team of four. Tony, their self-appointed leader, clears his throat and looks down his nose at them. Since he’s the shortest this is only possible thanks to the incline of the spaceship’s docking ramp and his position at the head of it.

He pitches his voice to carry. “Before we embark on this scientific expedition I’m going to lay down some very strict rules.”

On Peter’s right, Bruce shifts and huffs impatiently.

“Hey, this is serious, Jolly Green. Listen up.” Tony holds up five fingers. “Rule number five, anybody that messes with my music gets thrown out the airlock, no exceptions.”

On Peter’s left, Harley snorts.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, Johnny Cash. Mitts off or you’re as good as freeze dried and vacuum sealed. Rule number four, no fragrances. That means no body spray, no candles, and no air fresheners. If I catch so much as a whiff of an artificial scent, I’ll make the owner eat it. Rule number three…”

He begins to pace across the width of the ramp.

“No sticky business. Sorry kid but we’re not chancing a heart attack in space because you get the itch to pace the ceiling and scare poor Brucie into thinking he's in Alien. Which brings us to rule number two, don’t set off the green rage monster.”

“Tony—,”

“That one’s for me,” he says over Bruce. “I can be fair and include myself in the rules.” He stops pacing and looms over them. “The last rule is the most important so I need your undivided attention. Are you listening?”

He looks unmistakably from Peter to Harley then back to Peter. Peter nods.

“Get on with it, old man.” Harley shifts his one allotted bag higher on his shoulder. “Some of us would like to breach atmo before the heat death of the universe.”

Tony eyeballs him but doesn’t rise to his bait like he usually does. His gaze shifts and Peter finds himself drawing up to his full height under his unlaughing stare.

“Rule number one, do not have a one-night stand with your coworker on the spaceship.”

A sliver of Peter’s soul slaws off and dies.

Keep reading on ao3

[spockandawe]

Okay! I'm rapidly reaching the point of needing some creative self-care, or I'm going to crash even more viciously than I'm already starting to. Bad things: work is about to be SO fucking intense for the rest of the month, and while my home is unpacked, it is Comically unorganized. Good things: being unable to walk to work leaves me with more free time and less exhaustion per day, and I've recently refreshed myself on what supplies i have. I also am all set to start figuring out how to paint a house as soon as I can test my samples and clear a room. This will scratch the novelty itch, so i can be responsible and avoid buying new things. But i also can't lose focus on the organizing or I'll Adjust and never finish 😂

Let me see

Crochet in general: crochet is what I've been patching the mounting anxiety with, and i DO want to use up yarn, but it's hard on my wrist already, I can't afford to get too deep.

Baby blanket: almost done, could probably finish tomorrow in meetings, but because it was pretty bland, it won't be that fulfilling

Big Boi blanket: god, it's been years, I want to finish, but i WILL need to buy some yarn

Rocky horror lips: tedious single crochet, fun concept, but need to avoid wrist fuckery

Cross-stitch starscream: yes! I want to do this!! But this will be the opposite of quick gratification

Art........?: ALSO YES, goddammit, i want to figure out the stupid tablet! But good LORD, it's hard to decide what to do. And I'm in one of those phases where I'm not FAST, and I'm not vibing with what i make. The solution is just to draw more often, i know. But fuck.

Hc/mq: had a conceptual breakthrough, maybe? But i still don't know how it will proceed, so idk whether to commit the energy

Bwx/xl: this is half done already, AND outlined, I don't know why I can't do it. If i make myself, maybe i can find my groove

Lqg fic: it'll be long and intimidating 😭

Bingge lite: it's been 84 years...... But i really really really really love it and want to be able to share it. But the scope will be Horrendous, it may need percolation and warmer weather

Raksura core: i, uh, um 🫥 (i want to finish it! I really do! I can't focus worth SHIT)

Quilting: that would be good! Use up stuff! I want to be better! But god, the PREP WORK

Addendum: can i think of a fandom quilt i could pull off? Even if it was. Idk. Bingqiu colors. That might help me focus. But i also need to use up my stash :T

Long furby: would be good. I've had the materials for-fucking-ever

Pyrography: ooh, maybe. Especially if I can find art i dont have to compose. But if i set off the smoke alarm while it's this gross outside ill Die

BOOKS: heavy lifts and decision paralysis all around. Could be star wars (long, not for me, have to match existing volume), cnovel (several wips, but each is so much work to format, good god), ofic (not for me, also have to revamp formatting), ilcbt latest edition (needs the luxury treatment, which requires brain), pof latest edition (needs the luxury treatment, which requires brain), and all of the most appealing projects need a lot of materials, and I'm still in debt, lmao

Peerless fic: I've had the concept locked down for years, but i need to refresh on more of their late-stage characterization before feeling confident

Fourteenth year of chenghua fic: i also have the concept locked down! But i want to see the final evolution of wang zhi's relationship to the other two first

2ha fic: I ALSO HAVE THE CONCEPT LOCKED DOWN. but i still haven't...... finisheddddddddd, and this is going to need to be a fairly lengthy fic to wrangle xue meng in a believable way

[artemis32]

How about hc of yandere dad hansu seong with daughter reader since he'll be a protective duo along with taehooon?

Platonic Yandere Hansu Seong I

Listen, I'm the biggest simp for this man - but if you want something platonic, then platonic it is - sorry its a bit shorter than usual, my brain is struggling

I’m finally done with my exams, thank goodness (here’s hoping I won’t have to rewrite anything) - that being said, I’m finishing up with all the asks and requests previously sent, so feel free to send in more :))

To top off my good mood, winter has officially arrived and I'm preparing to hibernate for a few weeks

My milestone event is open now too, and the rules can be found here

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Manager Kim Masterlist

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This is in reference of this ask

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He would be the absolute best father ever.

Taehoon is the difficult child, but you're his angel. In his mind, you can do no wrong.

He treats you very gently, like you’re made of fine porcelain, almost as if you’d break with the slightest nudge. Naturally, it drives you crazy sometimes. Even though you’re well into your teens, he still treats you like a toddler that’s incapable of walking two steps.

You would never get too mad with him though, because you know he does it with the purest intentions.

Something you do feel bad about is how hard he is on Taehoon when it comes to you. Of course he treats him fairly, but that doesn’t mean that he spares him a verbal lashing if you get into any sort of trouble while Taehoon is supposed to be keeping an eye on you. 

Your father is extremely overprotective, almost suffocatingly so. You never complain about it though, mainly because you don’t realise it isn’t normal for one’s father to be as obsessed with their child’s safety as he is with you.

****

Taehoon doesn’t mind the blatant favoritism, he completely understands it seeing as you’re his favourite person too, and he could never fault your father for putting you first, before anyone else.

You’re for sure a daddy’s girl, and your father treats you as such. 

He buys you whatever your heart desires, whether that’s clothing, food and sweets, books or video games, make up, figurines. You’re sure to never ask for too much, not wanting to take advantage of your father.

But no matter how much you may decline certain things, you always end up getting it anyway. 

You’ve been discreetly eyeing a new dress? It’s on your bed waiting for you a few hours later. 

Oh, there’s a limited edition Sailor Moon figurine you’ve been saving up for? There’s no need to pay for it yourself, your father got it for you as an early birthday gift (eight months early). 

You’re running low on paint supplies for a new project? You’ll find high quality materials waiting for you when you get home.

However, Hansu draws the line at you going out whenever you’d like. He’s willing to give in to a lot of things that you ask for, but going out - specifically alone - that’s out of the question.

A compromise had been made in your early teens that Taehoon would have to accompany you on any outings you went on. That had worked well for a while, up until you’d hit about sixteen and had an itching desire for more freedom and independence. 

It had resulted in quite a few arguments - admittedly one-sided as your father had his mind made up the moment you’d brought it up.

Regardless of your freedom or lack thereof, you enjoyed spending time with your family.

****

Of course, your father had introduced you to taekwondo at a very young age, almost as soon as you could walk.

There were various photo albums filled with pictures of you - you in a small taekwondo uniform as a toddler, your father proudly crouching beside you as you grinned at the camera, you and Taehoon standing next to one another, each holding up a gleaming gold medal with a large wall of trophies behind you, Taehoon watching you practice your form, strictly instructing you to kick higher.

It was a genuine passion of yours, one of the only hobbies you regularly practiced. A large part of that might have been because of how much time you’d get to spend with both your brother and your father.

Honestly, competitions were somewhat of a rarity until you’d hit double digits - your father’s paranoia being the deciding factor in your lack of participation.

Eventually he’d caved and allowed you to enter a competition, with very strict rules about your safety and how far you’d be allowed to push yourself. 

That had been a critical moment for you. You had won all the matches you’d had that day, and you’d gone home happier than you’d ever been in your ten short years of living. Both Taehoon and you father had been overjoyed by your victory.

It had been decided then that you’d be allowed to participate in any competition you’d want, only because your father would rather die than take that sort of happiness away from you.

An added extra was that you’d decided to spend even more time training, which meant that you’d spend more time at home with your dear old dad.

As if you didn’t already spend most of your time there anyway.

Your routine was limited to school, home, and the do jang - not that you minded.

It’s not as if you were even missing out on anything incredible - you didn’t have any close friends or after school activities, so you were content to go to school to learn and come right back home.

Your father’s close friend -Mr Kim as you knew him - adored you too and always took some time out of his visits to teach you a few of his more docile defense moves. 

Hansu wasn’t particularly happy about it - not because he thought it was unsafe, quite the opposite - he disliked it because he worried that you’d take such a liking to it that you would decide to abandon taekwondo all together in favour of choosing a more militant self-defense style of fighting.

Of course you’d never abandon taekwondo, not when you enjoyed it so much.

All of your other hobbies and interests tended to take a bit of a backseat when it came to taekwondo.

****

Despite your father's clear over protective tenancies and borderline controlling behaviour, you adored him. You might even go as far as to call him your role model.

You don't often question his rules, content to believe that your father had your best interest at heart - which he did.

Make no mistake, you didn't display blind devotion, you just admired your father for his work ethic and perseverance, but mostly you appreciated that he loved both you and your brother, and tried his best to raise you well and protect you.

He's actually not that crazy about keeping you locked up, you just happen to prefer staying at home, and you don't have many friends. He does tend to urge you to take Taehoon with you, but only because he doesn't want you to wonder around alone.

Overall he's a great father who isn't too insane, and all of his somewhat strange behaviours can be written off as typical parental concern.

Would he be crazy when you show interest in someone?? Maybe.

But he loves you and wants what's best for you. Most of all, he wants to see you happy, and if it happens to go against one of his rules, he'll find a way to compromise to keep everyone happy.

10/10 - very wholesome father :))

[palmofafreezinghand]

request by @acewardcullen "Can I have fic Edward and Esme goofing around back when it was just the two of them while Carlisle was at work?"

Edward had wanted to hate Esme from the moment Carlisle had first thought of her, fleetingly,  one stormy night when Edward had dared ask if there was anyone he had ever considered changing before him. He really wanted to hate her when she showed up cradled in the doctor’s arms, her spine crooked, and thoughts grating. He told himself he hated her those first few weeks when she took all of Carlisle’s attention with her curiosity and forgiveness. 

Edward Masen had failed, miserably, at hating Esme Platt. 

She had been in their lives for less than two months and had quickly wormed her way into Edward’s affections. With Carlisle working night shifts at the hospital, Edward and Esme spent most evenings alone together. 

“What was that?” Edward exclaimed, halting his piano playing to hone in on the quick thought of an easel and paint set, sandwiched between memories of her childhood. Her thoughts jumped to creepy bugs she knew would make him itch. 

“Stop thinking of centipedes!” Edward squirmed. 

Esme attempted to respond, her thoughts jumbled, her words cut off by her uncontrollable laughter. She had found his aversion to bugs with too many legs — centipedes, millipedes, silverfish, pillbugs, spiders — entirely by accident. She had found a centipide in the attic and promptly tried to show it to him which sent him screaming out of the house, like a little toddler she had thought in the moment while she chased him with said centipede, like a toddler he had thought. 

“It was nothing,” she said when she finally caught her breath. 

“It was an easel. You paint?” 

“No,” she said, but her thoughts gave way to hazy memories of blurry doodles in the margins of books, framed images on her bedroom wall, sitting in the branches of an apple tree with a heavy book in her lap and a piece of charcoal staining her fingers. 

The past two months had been spent simply trying to keep her alive and get her through every twenty-four period as stable as possible, they failed often. There simply hadn’t been time or energy to ask about her past hobbies, she was slowly working her way through Carlisle’s extensive library but could be most often found turning over her own thoughts while listening to Edward play the piano. He never played the piano more than in those past two months desperately trying to distract her from some more horrifying memories. 

“You like art,” Edward stated as he rushed out of the room. He came back a second later with an empty leather-bound journal from Carlisle’s study and a pencil and shoved the materials in Esme’s lap. Her arms were crossed over her chest, an unthreatening glare on her face as she looked up at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking down at the book. ‘This is far too nice. Did he steal this from Dr. Cu– Carlisle?’ 

“He’ll forgive me, it’s for you. Draw.” 

Esme’s frown deepened, upsetting Carlisle, really anyone but especially Carlisle, was unfathomable to her. Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute, fantasizing about the disappointment on the doctor’s face — a sight she had yet to ever see but was convinced was only a matter of time — as he chided them for stealing his things. 

“Fine,” Edward sighed. “Sit here all night bored beyond belief, your choice.” He took a seat at his piano, he made it six bars into his song of choice before her theatrical sigh and loud thoughts interrupted him. 

“If I draw will you stop playing that god awful screeching?” 

“It is frankly comical how much you hate jazz,” Edward smiled, turning on his stool to face her. 

‘Is that what you call it?’ She thought with scorn. “I don’t know what you want me to draw.” 

“Anything you want. The world is your oyster, Esme.” 

Her frown was going to become permanent at this rate but she eventually opened the journal to the first page. Edward went back to his playing, an original composition this time, as she thought over her plan of attack. 

Three minutes later he was once again stopping his playing, watching her page – through her mind — and his keys turned out to be quite a challenge, especially when the image she was blocking out was of him. 

She continued chipping away at the image as he took a seat on her armrest, watching the page over her shoulder. Her thoughts indicated she did not even notice he moved. 

The image forming on the paper was clear talent. It was like the first time he looked at his mother’s needlepoint for the first time, or watched Carlisle operate — through memories he had yet to work up the strength to sit in an operating theater — or listened to the Chicago Symphony live. 

He likened those moments to church, the reverent revelation, the moment everything in life made sense. Edward was still waiting for this moment for himself. 

When she finished the sketch of Edward at the piano she moved onto attempting to sketch Carlisle’s face. Edward let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. 

Esme startled and looked up to the piano stool and then quickly corrected herself and looked at him on the armrest. She slammed the journal turned sketchbook closed. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” Edward smiled. “Just find it amusing who you decided to draw.” 

“You.” 

“Who was that other guy?” Edward teased, trying to grab the book out of her hands  to look at the sketch of her infatuation. 

“No one. Hush up,” Esme said defensively, clutching the book to her chest. 

“Mhmmm.” He elbowed her lightly. “You don’t like him at all and you’re not an artist.” If Esme could blush her cheeks would have been red as her eyes.

‘Don’t tell him, please,’ she mentally begged. 

“You know I won’t tell him about the crush,” Edward affirmed, wrapping his arm lightly around her shoulders, she only flinched slightly, progress. 

“Or the drawing?” She asked, book still clutched to her chest. 

Edward saw no reason to hide it from Carlisle, he would be overjoyed Esme had an interest in anything. Perhaps that was precisely the reason she wanted to hide it. Her thoughts were already imagining an overzealous Carlisle bringing home every art supply known to man, just like he had done with her clothing, and books, and anything she had shown a mild interest in over the past two months. 

“Fine,” Edward smiled. “Our secret.”