#took me three tries to get up because every single time I was even remotely vertical I vomited blood

[randomingoftherandomness]

Yuanzhi is covered in blood and Shangjue can smell it as soon as he enters the courtyard/grounds.

The tang in the air is almost immediate and assaults his senses with the full force of a hammer to his head.

“Shangjue gege?” Ziyu holds him firmly by the elbow. He shakes his head, looking back up at the empty courtyard in front of him.

Something is wrong.

He quickly unsheathes his sword and Ziyu wordlessly does the same. Heart pounding high in his throat, he rushes in, eyes frantically looking for signs of life.

His feet take him in the direction where the scent of blood is strongest — Yuanzhi’s laboratory.

Shangjue suppresses the panic that gnaws at his heels. Outpacing Ziyu, he doesn’t look back, sprinting to the door.

“Didi! Didi!”

“Ge? Zhiren?”

Yuanzhi peeks his head beyond a screen, looking startled at their entrance. His mouth is a mess of blood and spit that spills all the way down the front of his robes, and Shangjue drops his sword in his rush to pull Yuanzhi into his arms.

“What’s going on?” Yuanzhi coughs, patting at Shangjue’s back with complaint in the scrunch of his nose. “Ge… too tight…!”

“You tell us, Yuanzhi Didi,” Ziyu says, looking around the laboratory. “What’s all this?” Sheathing his sword, he gestures to the array of pots boiling on the multiple burners and the almost wicked way the steam casts the rest of the room.

“Ah.”

Shangjue lets him pull back far enough to frown at him.

“Ah? That’s all you have to say?” Shangjue chides. Lifting his sleeve, he wipes at the blood around Yuanzhi’s mouth, only for him to retch and scramble for a bucket to vomit into.

From behind him, Ziyu quickly goes to pour a fresh cup of tea, while he rubs Yuanzhi’s back.

“It’s just an experiment,” Yuanzhi explains, wheezing when he lifts his head. “Took it a bit too far, ‘s all.”

Shangjue clenches his jaw. Meeting Yuanzhi’s eyes he is only slightly mollified when his Didi looks appropriately cowed at his glare. Ziyu bustles forth with the cup of tea and Shangjue steps back to retrieve his sword.

Hiding his shaking his hands in his sleeves. He takes a moment to calm himself down before he does something stupid in front of their Zhiren like throw Yuanzhi over his knees and spank him for the foolishness.

They’ll have words about this later.

[jinkoh]

Pentagon Scenarios - When they're jealous

Maknae Line | >Middle Line | Hyung Line

SFW; Warnings: none; gender-neutral reader

Masterlist

Shinwon

Recently, you’d been obsessed with some actor, watching his whole filmography and not missing a single interview of his.

It’d started out innocently enough – you’d seen his picture, tall and handsome, in some magazine.

“He’s really gorgeous,” you’d absentmindedly stated, causing Shinwon to look up from his game and throwing a brief look at the open page.

“A feast for the eyes,” he’d said. “Obviously can’t compare to me, though.”

You’d chuckled and jabbed him in the ribs playfully. “Obviously.”

And that’d been the end of it, or so Shinwon had thought. In reality, it’d only been the beginning.

You’d looked up the actor’s interviews after that; binge watched his dramas and movies. You were so immersed with that guy, Shinwon had briefly considered to talk to his manager about pursuing acting himself. After a little bit of consideration though, he’d come to the conclusion, that it wasn’t really what he wanted – he much preferred the schedules with the members or doing his radio show.

Still, that actor and your obsession with the same bugged Shinwon a little. Shinwon was tall and handsome too and most importantly he was actually there and not just behind a screen.

When he came home one night, feeling especially tired after his radio show, he found you on the couch, fully absorbed in some drama. Shinwon considered to watch a little with you – until his arch enemy appeared on screen.

“Nooooo,” he whined, throwing himself on top of you like a giant blanket, simultaneously blocking your view. “Let’s watch something eeeeelse.”

You laughed at your boyfriend’s antics. “Why?”

Instead of a proper reply, he just made whiny noises and wiggled around like a pouty toddler.

“C’mon, it’s a really good show, I promise. We can start from the beginning, so you get the story.”

“Noooooo.”

“Why?”

He tugged his face into the crook of your neck. “I don’t like him.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around your big baby of a boyfriend. “Are you jealous because I like that actor?”

“Jealousy is not a concept known to me.”

“Sure, baby, sure.”  You tried to reach for the remote on the coffee table – to no avail. “You gotta get off me though, so I can turn it off.”

“Mmh-mmh,” he grumbled and shook his head. “Comfy.”

“You’re hopeless,” you said, indulging him anyway, letting the drama run on in the background without paying it any mind.

Changgu

Changgu was really happy for you, when you’d told him that you’d booked a small vacation with your best friend. You didn’t get to see them that often, so it was nice, that you got to spend some time together.

After you left, he found himself checking your Instagram a lot, excited to see all the places you and your friend were visiting, excited to see you smiling and having fun in the pictures.

But as time went by, his excitement slowly started turning into something else. A week was a lot longer than he’d thought and he he’d already missed you on day one. Even though he wanted to be happy for you, he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of your friend, wishing he’d be the one spending time with you and making you smile.

Enduring the remaining time until your return felt rough. He didn’t let it show, though. He didn’t send you whiny texts or called you every night – this was your well-deserved vacation, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by making you worry about him. He pressed “like” on the pictures you posted, he replied full of curiosity when you texted him to tell him about your day and he picked the phone up with a smile when you called him.

Whenever it felt particularly hard he just took a deep breath and told himself he could endure this. Just fours more days, just three, just two, just one.

When it was finally time for you to come home he was happy and relieved to get you back. He’d offered to pick you up from the station, but you’d insisted that you’d drive with your friend. So, all he could do was sit at home, order your favorite food for dinner and wait for you to come back.

He almost jumped out of his seat when he finally heard the clattering of your keys at the door. Changgu didn’t even wait for you to come in, he hugged your right there on the doorstep, as if he hadn’t seen you in months (to be fair – it did feel that long).

Caught by surprise, you dropped your keys, but neither of you paid it any mind. You hugged him back, softly running your hands over his back.

“Did you have a good time?” Changgu asked, still not letting go of you.

“Yeah, I did. Let’s go inside first?”

“Mhm,” he replied, but didn’t budge one inch.

“Changgu?”

With a sigh he let go, picking up your keys and your suitcase and moving them into your shared flat. You followed after him, making a small detour to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Changgu brought the suitcase into the bedroom and then settled on the couch, waiting for you.

“It smells good,” you said as you walked out of bathroom.

“Mhm, I ordered food.”

“Oh, god, amazing, I’m starving.” You started making your way to the kitchen.

Changgu watched you with a pout. “We can eat a little later.”

“What’s wrong?”

Still pouting, he opened his arms, a silent request for cuddles. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Of course, I missed you.” You sighed fondly, walking over and snuggling into his arms.

Contentedly, he held you in his arms until the growling of your stomach made him take pity on you. On condition that he’d get more cuddles later that night, he let you go so both of you could finally have dinner.

Yanan

This whole gala thing wasn’t half as fun as he’d expected. Especially not now, when you were standing across the hall from him, talking to that photographer you’d been dying to meet, while he was sitting at the bar, nursing his drink and throwing longing glances at you.

“You know you can go over and talk to them, right?” Hyunggu grinned. “You're dating.”

“I know,” Yanan supplied with a pout. “But y/n could also come over here instead. I’m their boyfriend.”

Hyunggu just laughed at that,  finding entertainment in his hyung’s cute behavior.

Yanan wasn’t quite as amused, scenarios of him walking over to you and taking you back home with him running through his head. He didn’t. Instead, he stayed at the bar, only half-listening to the conversations of his friends and simply nodding along in confusion when they addressed him.

Of course, he was happy for you, that you finally got to meet someone you’d been looking up to for a long time. He didn’t want to ruin this for you either. But seeing your happy smile from afar made him wish you were smiling at him instead.

After what felt like an eternity, the guests of the gala already beginning to thin out, you came back to the bar, standing close to your boyfriend who was still wearing a pout.

“At last they have returned,” Changgu announced solemnly, a laugh in his eyes.

“C’mon, I wasn’t gone for that long.”

“Long enough,” Yanan mumbled under his breath.

“Don’t be like that, love.”

Hyunggu looked at the two of you for a second, before grinning knowingly. “Guess that’s our sign to leave.”

“Get home safely.” Changgu gave you a small wave before he followed behind Hyunggu.

“Thanks, Changgu, you too.” You watched them leave before turning back to your boyfriend. “Should we go home?”

The car ride was quiet, Yanan sulking on the passenger seat, focusing his gaze on the streetlights, the dashboard, his hands – anything, but you. He knew he didn’t have a right to be angry, but somehow he still was.

“Yanan, please tell me what’s wrong already,” you pried as you came to a halt at a red light.

“Nothing.”

“Please?”

Yanan shrugged, still not looking at you.

“Pleaaase?”

“Youdidn’thavetolookthathappy,” he mumbled, feeling his face flushing red.

The traffic light turned green, and you started the car again. “What?”

“You didn’t have to look that happy talking to him,” he repeated, a little more clearly. Then, almost inaudibly: “You left me all alone…”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that wanted to escape your lips. “You weren’t alone, the boys were there too?”

“That’s not the same. I didn’t want to spend the evening with the boys.” He paused. “I wanted to spend it with you.”

“I’m sorry, I just got so excited talking to him. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” He finally looked over to you, though the pout was still prominent on his face.

“I’ll buy chocolate for you?” You briefly glanced at him, before focusing your attention on the road again.

“Hm.”

“Or we could re-watch My Love from the Star when we get home?”

“Hm.”

“Cuddles?”

Yanan eyed you for a moment, thinking about your offer, but he wasn’t quite satisfied yet. “….Hm.”

You sighed fondly. “All three?”

At last, a small smile spread on Yanan’s face.

“All three.”

Masterlist

[callmemana]

Intricate Threads: A Ballet of Secrets

Pietro x Widow!self-insert

Summary: When the Red Room finally had been shut down and Dreykov dead, three ex-Widows follow Natasha back to the Avengers where they meet and form a bond with the other members of the team. The Widows had control over what they do for the first time and aren’t gonna let something as sweet as freedom slip through their hands. You can never be too cautious about what might lurk in the depths of the Galaxy.

A/N: This will take place across a couple of marvel movies, starting with a month or so before Captain America: Civil War and stop at Avenger’s Endgame.

A/N #2: the Romanian & Russian dialog will be in English but in {brackets} because sometimes Google Translate isn’t trustworthy.

Warnings: inaccurate fighting scenes, cursing, and everyone lives because I said so and Cap doesn’t stay back in the 40s.

{masterlist 📚} {previous chapter 📎} {next chapter📖}

Chapter 1 - Daylight to Midnight

⚡️⚡️⚡️

After the Red Room had crashed, it wasn’t a hard decision for me and a few other Widows to follow Natasha back to New York. I wasn’t the youngest of the newbie Avengers, that title would go to Peter Parker, but I wasn’t the eldest either, Baylie.

I was about the same age as the Maximoff Twins. We all got along for the most part, but it's hard to be truly friends when you’re both closed off towards one another.

Trust isn’t something you have after years of only being able to rely on yourself and that can be tested when you’re relaxing on the couch with a companion and you can’t find the remote.

Friendships will crack quickly over something as stupid as the possibility of sitting on the remote and then not moving when you’re looking for it. That can ruin friendships quickly.

Also we’re still in that awkward phase of our lives where we’re still getting those stupid teenage hormones. Well, most of us are, Vision got to skip that part which is totally unfair! And Peter’s just starting that phase of becoming that moody teen that he is. He’s not very fun to hang around when he’s sassier than usual. I don’t know how Stark and his Aunt handle him.  

I grew close to the only other people my age, the Maximoff Twins and my sisters. I’ve known Baylie and Raven since we were children before the Red Room and took care of each other while training to be a Widow.

I’m closer with Wanda than the Speedster, but when you’ve been deprived of having a friend it’s nice to finally have one. She also is dating my little sister Raven. I get along okay with Pietro, we have our moments here and there, but usually it's all smooth sailing.

He likes to flirt with the female population in Stark Tower which consist of two bachelorettes; Nat and myself, but he knows better than to try anything on Natasha. So it all goes to me. I mean, I don’t hate it, but I don’t exactly like to be hit on when i’m trying to peacefully eat my cereal in the morning.

There are other women in the tower, but most are in relationships. Shield agents are too easy for him, or so he’s told us. I think that he’s already gone through most if not all the single ones.

Bay thinks he likes to flirt with me because I’m ’hard to get, even harder to keep’ but I just roll my eyes and tell her to fuck off.

Ray thinks it’s sweet that he flirts and always tries to give him ideas on how to ‘woo me’ because she doesn’t see me smile very often, but when I’m with him i can’t help it. She’s even recruited Wanda to help.

Nat pretty much leaves the subject alone, every once in a while she’ll add her two cents into the mix. But she’s also a little shit so you know she’s pulling strings in the background trying to set something up.

Pretty much everyone on the team and even a couple of high-ranking SHIELD Agents are rooting for us.

The way I see it, he’s an amazingly gorgeous man with a thick accent that can make any woman fall for his charm. This translates to Fuckboy, if you ask me.

And for my first real relationship fresh out of the Red Room, I’m not dumb enough to have my heart broken by a guy like him. So he can flirt and try his little horny Jedi mind tricks on me, but it isn’t happening.

We’re best friends and Wanda and Raven are dating, but just because our siblings are together and he’s stupidly attractive doesn’t mean that I’ll cross that line between friends to lovers with him anytime soon.

There’s plenty of fish in the sea, he just has to get out of the tower and catch one’s attention. Which should be easier than pie for him.

I’m just not going to be another notch in his belt buckle for him. I’m damaged and I don’t want to put my traumatic past into his future.

We’ve both been through enough as it is. So why should we add unnecessary baggage to the mix when we can’t even get over our own?

Dreykov wanted to break us down and build us back up stronger. He wanted the power over us and to make sure that we could never leave him.

To keep our heads in the assignments, so he took away our choice to a happy future. He does this to millions upon millions of young women every day.

Now though, with the Red Room destroyed, all those other girls have a choice. They can be reunited with their parents and no more children will be kidnapped and tortured to fit perfectly into the Red Room’s manifest.

I know I don’t even want to think about my past, so many terrifying tests and experiments. How could I ask him to share when I’m not willing to do so too.

The pain, screams, and daily lectures about how the graduation ceremony was a privilege and reward for passing every test they could throw at you.

Now I see what it really is, another way to control you.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Getting up in the morning was a big task for me, I hated mornings more than anything. So when Steve did his ‘Good Morning Checks’ I usually threw my pillow at the door and cuddled further into my blankets.

Today though, since Steve was out on a mission along with most of the other adults, it was F.R.I.D.A.Y that woke me up with a loud trumpet noise. I grumbled as I sat up and wrapped a blanket over my shoulders before heading out in my oversized shirt and spandex booty shorts.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee and started to crack eggs for some breakfast. I had F.R.I.D.A.Y play some pop music as I continued to cook, using the spatula as a microphone. Every once in a while I’d take a sip from my mug just to the left of me.

In the middle of making the scrambled eggs my blanket over my shoulders fell and the sudden lost of warmth made me shiver and to warm myself up again I reached for my coffee I just grabbed air. It was missing and as much as I knew I was the only one awake and out of bed.

I looked around the counters, making sure that I didn’t just place it a few inches away from me but I never saw it. I widened the search and when I turned around and caught a glimpse of the smug look on the Speedster’s lips I knew what had made my blanket fall. I stared right into those beautiful icy blue eyes as I realized he must’ve snuck over and snatched my mug too.

“Did you really just Jack my cup? There’s like a hundred of them in the cabinets above the coffee machine!”

A thick Slovakian voice replied smugly, “But this one was closer and full. No need to dirty a new cup, {Darling}.”

I seethed and reached for my coffee when he swiftly moved it out of my way. “Serioulsy Pietro. Give it back, you have legs and they work just fine. Get your own.”

“Yours is better, I think I’ll just keep this one.”

“Seriously? Give it back, it's too early for this and I’m making scrambled eggs for everyone.” I point the spatula/mictrophone at him threateningly. He knows that if I wanted to I could use it as a weapon.

Pietro raised his eyebrows, smirk still on his gorgeous face. “I’m not giving it up. Nice try tricking me with food.”

I groan as I rolled my eyes and go to the cabinet where the mugs usually are. When it was opened, the cups were not on their designated shelf. They were now at the top where I couldn’t reach. I took a sharp inhale before I turn around abruptly, anger colored my face red. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” He looks so smug as he takes a gulp of my coffee. At that moment the others started to trail in, most likely from the smell of food cooking.

“What’s this morning’s spat about today?” asked Ray as she went to grab a mug only to grab a glass cup.

She turns it left and right in confusion before setting it back and stepping a few steps in reverse, seeing that the mugs are on a higher shelf. Raven spares a look to Wanda, and then she uses her magic to bring down three more.

“Where’s your coffee Amanda?”

“Your {idiot} brother took it.”

“{Be nice}” replied Raven as she hit her sister as a warning.

“{He took my coffee! I have a reason to be upset!}”

Raven gave another ‘behave’ glare and turned to the coffee pot pouring herself and Wanda a cup. I nudged her with my own and dipped my head towards the machine. Raven playfully rolled her eyes before grabbing and filling mine and handing it back.

“How did you sleep?”

Raven shrugged and looked at Wanda before returning to face me and whisper, “It wasn’t the best, {I had nightmares all night about the Red Room.}”

We both checked to make sure the Twins were occupied in their own conversation before continuing.

“{Why didn’t you come and get me? We could’ve talked it out}.”

Raven waved me off taking a sip of her coffee, “I’m fine. When they get too bad I’ll talk to Bay or you.”

I gave her a concerned smile but let it go, “Ok everyone, breakfast is done. Come and get a plate.”

Of course it was just the four of us, Baylie would be asleep for a while, Vision didn’t need to do anything human, and Peter was at home before his school started.

Pietro was the first to the skillet, kissing my cheek as I drank some more caffeine before he scooped heaps of the eggs onto his plate. I had made sure to make a whole carton because of his metabolism. “{Thank you, Princess}.”

I froze from the unexpected kiss, the two other women in the room giggle behind their plates. We all sat in silence as we ate our breakfast before we had to get ready for training. Bay came in a couple of minutes before we left to get dressed.

“Good morning, any coffee or food left?” She walked around the kitchen and grabbed what she wanted and sat down at the counter. She was greeted from everyone in the room and talked a little before we really did have to go get dressed for the gym.

I put my dirty dishes into the sink and put rubber gloves on before starting to wash them and then everyone else started to pile their own plates and silverware into the soapy water.

“Really? {I can’t wait for training, then I’ll kick their asses}” I mutter to myself as the others leave the room. I missed the way Pietro looked back at me as I frustratedly scrubbed the dishes.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

After I was finished I rushed to my room to put on some athletic short and a sports bra, already hot from the running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. Once I was inside the gym I started my stretching, plugging my headphones into my phone and opening the Spotify app and picking a random playlist.

Lost in my own little world, I missed the staring from the Speedster as I taped my hands before starting to box. The bag was swinging wildly with each punch thrown at it. I kept the rhythm for a while until I felt tired and thirsty, so I quit for a couple of minutes to get a drink.

I hadn’t realized the time and the fact that everyone else was gone from the gym, so I took the gloves and tape off of my hands and wrists and went to my room to shower. When I was done and dressed I went to the livingroom to watch a movie.

A luxury that I didn’t really have growing up, since they didn’t do that in the Red Room. Unlike Steve, I didn’t have a little notebook full of everything in the last 75 years that I missed, I wasn’t in my early hundreds and buried in ice. I was trained to be an assassin and there was no room for ‘childishness.’

I made popcorn and found some of the snacks and candies that Stark had stashed everywhere he could, you can’t hide anything from a spy. A rush of wind and then the couch sunk where he sat beside me, pretty much touching my hip to his.

“What are we watching {Princess}?” he mumbled over some of the chips I had set up on the couch. I snatched the bag away from him, taking a handful and chewing on the chips. “I’m watching a Disney princess movie.”

I shoved him away from me, getting comfy in my spot on the couch and moving the blanket to cover my whole body. “Don’t be like that {Darling}, let me stay and watch the movie with you.”

Pietro tried to get under the blanket with me, but I ripped them out of his hands, wiggling my pointer finger at him, “Uh no, {Playboy}, we are not sharing this. Go get yourself one from your room, I’ll pause it and wait for you.”

“Thanks {Darling}, I’ll be back in a flash.” he kissed my cheek again before running off towards his room to grab a blanket.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes at his little affection that he’s given me today. It’s nothing really new between the two of us, ever since we’ve all became friends. He’s like that to the other girls too, nothing more than a little greeting or goodbye or even playfulness that he shows.

Pietro kept his word and was back quickly with pillows and blankets and drinks and somehow even more snacks and candies. I gasp, “Where did you find those! They’re the best candies Stark has hidden and I’ve searched for months and haven’t found any!”

He smiled at my excitement and handed me the plastic packaging that he had opened for me and I grabbed a couple before tossing them in my mouth and chewing. “Are you ready and comfortable?”

Pietro sat down and threw the blanket over himself before laying his head on my lap and looking up into my eyes, “Ready {Princess}.”

Chuckling, I messed up his hair a little and hit the ‘play’ button. “Whatever goob, just keep your eyes on the screen.”

⚡️⚡️⚡️

The next few hours we took turns picking out different movies, only thing that mattered to us was each other’s company and the movie in the background.

I don’t know when I fell asleep but when I woke up it was to the sound of a gravely voice speaking in a language I didn’t understand. “{It’s time to get up Princess, dinner’s ready.}”

I groan and stretch as I slowly get up, taking the blanket and turning myself into a burrito before walking into the kitchen. “Well good evening Sleeping Beauty, I’m glad you could join us. You and Piet looked very comfy on that couch together.”

I punched Bay on the shoulder, glaring at her from across from me at the table. Bay and Ray giggled into their hands at my reaction. They already knew of my little crush on the man and loved to throw it in my face about the flirty remarks we both exchanged.

“{Don't start that shit, there is nothing going on.}”

“Hey, hey, English please!” announced Peter as he grabbed a piece of pizza from the box.

“Sorry, Pete. I’m just so used to talking to other Widows that I forget not everyone else can speak Russian.”

Peter smiled, taking a huge bite. “No problem Ms Baylie, I know its hard for you girls.”

Now it was Raven and myself who were laughing, Peter might’ve been a teenager but he did have some ‘old people’ tendencies. He always called older people Misses or Mister and it made most of the time they laugh at his formality and others got frustrated because of it.

The dinner continued with laughter and small meaningless arguments. Vision ended up joining us too, talking science with Peter as the rest of us talked about everything and nothing at the same time. It was fun to have dinners as a family, since I can’t really remember the last proper one I had with my own.

After the pizza was put away, I started to put on the rubber gloves and clean the dirty dishes again and I felt a slight breeze to my side where Pietro was standing now. He took the plates that had already been washed and started to dry them.

The silence between us was comfortable and friendly. I hummed a little tune from earlier in the day and did a little dance as I put the dried plates in the cupboards.

Pietro sped past me, taking the plate from the drying rack and then the ones from my hands and put them in their respective place. I rest my closed fist on my hips, a slight smile on my lips.

“Really? Sometimes it's okay to do domestic things without super powers every once in a while. Plus, not everyone in the house has them.”

Pietro smirks, “I can think of one thing that’s domestic we can do without my powers, {Darling}.”

I blush at his words, smiling to myself as I shake my head, “Ok yeah, keep talking game buddy. I’m gonna go clean up our movie night and then go to sleep.”

Before I could even exit the kitchen, a blur of sliver passed and then stopped right in front of me, holding all of our snacks, candies, and popcorn bowl. “Thanks, less for me to do. Good Night Piet.”

I kissed his cheek and then left for my room, where I ended up reading until about ten. I got ready in dance attire and then grabbed my old pointe shoes, making sure the coast was clear before existing my room and sneaking over to the gym where Baylie and Raven was waiting.

“{You took a while, having too much fun with the boytoy?}” smirked Baylie, opening the door and allowing Raven and myself in first.

I turned on the lights as Ray sat down and put on her ballet shoes, Bay coming inside and doing the same. Once Raven was done she set up her phone to the sound system and syncing up a song that we have engraged in our brains.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Birdie’s Basket 🧺: @dragon-kazansky @whiskeyswriting @faerieroyal @bayisdying @askmarinaandothers

🏷️ list:

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Hi I just wanted to ask if you have any thoughts on the end of series 3 and I don't know if your taking prompt ideas but if you are I had this idea of no sparrows dying and both teams kind of living together with no Reginald with Luther and Sloane still getting together

I have so many thoughts actually! Even a bit of a fix it/au/continuation thing brewing in my head. But I'm mostly intrigued with how they're gonna handle it! probably more than I was curious about season 3 (I was VERY excited but like I wasn't theorizing). It's certainly very different than the previous two finales and makes me wonder if they're going to deal with one final apocalypse or something else.

Anyway!

I hope you don't mind but I've used your prompt to set up another prompt I've got waiting on me! I felt they'd work together rather well and I've also created a series on my ao3 for these fics!

Under One Roof

(link for ao3)

Well… it had started out as a good idea, at least. 

That was exactly how all of their ideas went. Whether it was fight or flight decisions in the heat of battle, time travel to avoid an apocalypse, or moving into the Sparrow Academy- everything started out good. But it was always the test of time that showed the real outcome. 

You’ve got to be kidding me, guys! There’s a chore chart for a reason!”

“The next fight that breaks out, both of you are getting kicked outside and you can deal with it on the streets since that’s how you want to act!” 

“There is a nasty ass pair of underwear in my room and they aren’t even mine so somebody needs to start talking right now before I make it everyone’s problem.” 

“This house was a lot quieter until you let a bunch of children move in!”

“My room is my space so I could care less what you think about the color scheme.”

“Doors lock for a reason everyone!” 

“It’s not even the good stuff, you shouldn’t be able to smell it! I swear!” 

“Who the hell ate the last of the cereal and just put the empty box back on the shelf?!” 

 “I’m moving out. Not a single one of you has a brain cell between the twelve of you. And I don’t know which is more shocking, That no one here can think for themselves long enough not to get into a petty argument or that I’m even remotely surprised.”

“We just need to give it time! I’m sure everything will work out once we get to know each other.”

“If you don’t get out of my personal space right this second I’m going to make you eat your own feet.”

“So did dinner get canceled or-?”

One week and everything has gone to hell. 

Somehow things were more peaceful between the Umbrellas and the Sparrows when they were fighting against a cosmic bomb to stop yet another apocaplyse. Living together in the same house is proving to be a challenge. 

The place is certainly big enough. In the original timeline it was meant to house forty-three children. Despite there only being sixteen in this new one, the place is still just as massive, more than equipped to handle six Umbrellas and seven Sparrows. There are enough bedrooms, training areas, a courtyard, a library…plenty of space so it is possible to go a full day without ever seeing anyone. 

And somehow, fights still break out. 

They started simple. The first thing every sibling fights about when moving into a new place. Who’s getting which room. 

Klaus tried to call dibs on Reginald’s room. It wasn’t that anyone wanted it other than him, except maybe Diego because he liked the idea of all the space, it was that the Sparrows thought it was best to leave it alone. At least, Marcus thought so. Even if Reginald hadn’t exactly been a stellar father, they still felt they needed to honor whatever memory anyone had of him by not touching his things. 

He was the first and only one the kugelblitz took. They had found out about it quick enough that they could stop it before it got too out of hand. From there all it took was some time travel, once it was working again, to tweak the finer details. 

Regardless, a fight had broken out. Some mild arguing turned into cheap shots being thrown left and right to the point they were fighting almost as they had the day the Umbrellas ended up back in 2019. 

Luther was embarrassed to say the least. It had partly been his idea to even move his family there in the first place and he felt it made him look bad in the Sparrows’ eyes that they were behaving so badly. He was supposed to be their Number One, their voice of reason. But he had never had that. Not really. 

And if he was honest it wasn’t even truly his idea. He had found out days after they had all settled in, on a quiet afternoon when things finally seemed to have calmed down and everyone got used to each other, that Sloane had a hand in it all. 

As it turned out, she had suggested the idea to both Marcus and Luther separately, making it seem as if it was the other’s idea. 

“I have to say,” Marcus started, one quiet morning- that didn’t stay quiet for long- when they ran into each other in the foyer, “I wasn’t too sure about this at first but now that things have calmed down a bit,” little did he know he’d be eating those words minutes later. It soon became taboo to even utter those words, “I think this is going to work out just fine. It’s even nice to have a bigger team. Some pretty good thinking you’ve got Luther,” and he had reached out to shake his hand but Luther stood dumbstruck.

“Wait,” Luther had to think it over in his head, make sure he had heard Marcus right, “I thought this was your idea.”

“No, Sloane told me it was your idea,” Marcus said slowly. The realization hit them at the same time and they had laughed about it. 

They weren’t laughing now. 

“Whoever keeps putting the toilet paper roll over instead of under is getting a roll shoved up their ass!” Diego declares from the balcony over the living room, interrupting an argument at the bar between Five and Alphonso over vintage whiskeys and another argument between Jayme, Be, and Klaus over Yahtzee because Klaus swears she’s cheating. 

Jayme snorts when she laughs at Diego’s rage and though Sloane was coming in on the tail end of the argument she swears she could hear his resolve snapping like a twig. “It would you! I fucking knew it!” He shouts, with no evidence other than Jayme’s amusement. He vaults himself over the railing and Sloane is quick to stop him midair. “Let me down!” He begins to flail as much as her power will let him, trying to fight even over seven feet above the floor. 

“Not until you calm down,” Sloane tries to reason, sending Luther a ‘help me’ expression when their gazes meet as he crosses into the living room downstairs.

“I’ll calm down when I’ve gotten justice for this incredibly annoying atrocity!” Diego tries to grip the railing but Sloane tilts him upside down, “Luther!” He growls when he sees him, “Make your stupid girlfriend put me down!” 

“You know you’re not the only one in this house Diego,” Luther reminds him. 

Except Diego refuses to let it go, even when he turns sheepish as Fei and Allison join Sloane on the balcony to investigate the scene. “Alright, vote. Right now. There’s enough of us here, who thinks I’m right?” 

“Yeah!” Klaus exclaims, “Toilet paper should always be over!” 

Silence falls upon the room so thick that Marcus’ footsteps can be heard halfway down the hall. 

“You,” Diego growls, eyes narrowing, deadly and threatening, “It’s under you idiot! I’m gonna get you!” 

“You might want to take advantage of your head start, Klaus,” Five pipes in. Klaus doesn’t need another word before he’s abandoning his Yahtzee game and taking off down the hall. 

Sloane lifts Diego and sets him down on the balcony. The very second Diego’s feet are on the floor he’s taking off after Klaus. 

Everyone stands in silence to the sound of Klaus screaming fading out as they disappear. 

Marcus is utterly confused when he reaches the rest of them, “What did I miss?”

Jayme and Ben burst out laughing, practically rolling on the floor as they clutch their sides. Ben looks like he’s on the edge of tears, he's laughing so hard and Jayme finds herself in a coughing fit. 

“What’s so funny?” Luther asks, mindful of the demanding tone that likes to creep into his voice. Sloane had taught him that. She said they may not react so negatively towards him if he remembered he was their brother, not their leader. It was good advice. 

“It’s all three of us!” Ben chokes out. 

“Yeah,” Jayme wheezes, having to catch her breath just to speak, “We caught the psycho going through the house and changing every roll so I had the idea to change them all back! I just wanted to see his head explode.”

“And he did not disappoint,” Ben shakes his head, “Klaus wasn’t supposed to say anything but I guess he was feeling cocky since he bet it wouldn’t even take a day for him to notice.” 

Klaus makes it out alive. He winds up laying low with Alphonso and Viktor in the recreation room, just in time to start an air hockey tournament. By the time Diego finds him he’s already calmed enough to not care. At least, until he’s the victim of some other shenanigan. 

Besides, it’s movie night. 

It occurs every other night, just to maintain some sort of peace even for a short while. And to encourage everyone to get along. Of course, not everyone is above being petty to be right in a silly little fight, jeopardizing the whole evening for everyone. 

The rule is that everyone has to make nice or refrain from starting another argument an hour before eight o’clock. If they can do that, everyone can gather in the home theater for a movie. Chosen, of course, by a wheel app with everyone's pick of movies. Viktor’s idea. Because Fei’s idea of drawing names from a bowl proved to cause accusations of rigging the draw. Thus forfeiting movie night. 

It works. Most nights.

And those blissful moments of silence are golden. 

Especially when those moments are spent on the roof in the cool night air. 

“You think they’ll get along long enough to make it through dinner?” Luther pauses his kisses to mutter the question that’s been on his mind since the idea was formed. They’re only a few days out and as the date draws closer he gets more anxious. He just wants it to be perfect for Sloane. 

She smiles but shakes her head, rolling her shoulders to adjust with how long she’s had her arms up around his neck, “Mhm, probably not. But we can only hope,” she resumes their kissing, trailing a hand up to his short hair. 

Only for him to pull back, “Maybe we should talk to some of them. You know, get them to… behave. So it’s not a complete disaster?” 

“I think they’re going to argue no matter what. We should at least take it as a victory they aren’t actually killing one another,” 

“You’re right,” Luther kisses her nose, “As always.”

“I try,” Sloane shrugs coyly, 

Though, they’re both hoping she’s right, long enough that dinner won’t be a complete disaster. 

[reverend-dog]

Reincarnation

“Stay here!” Sam commanded. “I’ll be right back!”

Mel chuckled. “If you say so.”

Sam had stood and turned to leave, but checked himself at Mel’s reply. He grimaced in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he offered, reminded of the girder that pinned Mel’s lower half. “I just need to find a lever.”

Shudders rocked the bulkhead and deck as a distant fuel core ruptured, the latest of many. “Don’t bother,” Mel advised, her tone as if the booth they shared were intact, along with the rest of the galley. “Even with a lever, you’re not strong enough to shift this mass.” She reached out her free hand, grabbed Sam’s sleeve. “Please, Sam. Don’t worry about me. Get yourself to safety!”

“No!” Sweat flew from Sam’s head as he shook it. “I’m not going to leave you! We promised we’d finish this together, and that’s what we’re gonna do!” He gripped Mel’s hand tried to prise it free from his sleeve.

Mel redoubled her grip. “Sam, no! You can’t save me. And it doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll just --” She bit her lip to interrupt the admission, then sighed. “Sam, I need to tell you something. You’re probably not going to believe it, but I’m hoping you will.” She gulped. “I don’t want to see you die, too.”

Sam crouched near her. “Hey,” he grated, “for better or worse, right? Just because we haven’t said it in front of a cleric yet doesn’t mean we don’t mean it.” Tears made clean tracks down his cheeks. “I can’t stand the idea of life without you.”

Mel reached up and wiped away a tear. “You’ll survive,” she told him. “And I’ll be there with you, as long as you remember.” She cleared her throat. “Sam, listen. I have to tell you something. Something I haven’t told anybody in many, many years.” She took a deep breath. “I was born first in Belfast, Ireland, Earth, in nineteen forty-three.”

Sam stared at her. “This is no time for jokes,” he chided. “Besides, I’ve seen your file. You were born on Maravilla, Titan, twenty-one oh-one. What are you trying to do, Mel?”

“You’re right,” Mel nodded. “That was my latest birthday. In between that and Belfast forty-three, I’ve been born, lived, and died twenty-five times.” She locked her eyes on Sam’s, her gaze earnest. “I don’t stay dead, Sam. Every time I die, I come back. How do you think I know so much about so many subjects? Speak so many languages, know so many cultures? It’s because I’ve grown up and lived in every single one of them.”

“Mel,” Sam made his voice soft, soothing, “just take it easy. You’re going into shock. Give me a few moments, and --”

“No, Sam!” Mel grimaced at him. “Listen to me! Have I ever made a claim like this before? Ever said anything remotely close to this? If I were shocky, or trying to get you to go on your own, would I make up something like this?”

“You might,” Sam mused, “if you thought that I wouldn’t listen to simple reason. And you’d be right about that, too.” Another blast, closer, rattled the room. “Torpedo,” Sam identified. “They’re still firing.”

“Sam,” Mel urged, “leave me. Get to a lifeboat.” She offered him a smile. “I’ll be all right, honest. And hey, think about this.” Her eyes twinkled. “Given current advances in anagathics, you might stay young long enough. Don’t be surprised if oh, twenty or thirty years from now, some guy or girl taps you on the shoulder and mentions the time we joined the Trans-Light Club!”

Sam blinked, and the blush that colored his cheeks stabbed a sweet needle through Mel’s heart. “You’re serious,” he said.

“Like a heart attack,” she confirmed. “Pyongyang, North Korea, aught-three. Now please, Sam. Go.” She smiled again. “Stay alive for me. I’ll find you. I promise.”

Sam returned a grave look. “Hold you to that,” he whispered. Then, with a swipe of one sleeve across his eyes, he pushed himself upright, turned, and climbed through the wreckage.

Mel watched him go, then lay her head back. “After all this time,” she murmured, “you’d think I’d know better than to get attached. But a few years together beats eternity alone.”

The ship rocked again, harder. The girder broke free from the ceiling and fell. Agony flared across Mel’s midsection, and the old feeling of slipping away crept over her. “Please,” she prayed, “don’t let this be the last time.”

[koqabear]

sol... friend... *cat hug gif* this was definitely worth the wait because it's by far the best halloween and yandere fic i've ever read and i'm just so amazed at how you manage to outdo yourself Every Time?? and that the time and work you spent on this were worth every single second because holy shit do i have so much to say 😭😭 i really tried to not make this one sound like another analysis essay but i suppose it's okay because it's all coming from the heart either way 🫶🏼

for starters, i just want to talk about how amazing the building and development was for beomgyu and yeonjun. they were two extremely distinct characters despite having the same goal and the way they were written was just *chef's kiss* i really loved how different they were towards mc due to their relationships with her, one being a stranger and the other being her best friend, and how this carried over into how easy it was for them to give in to their darker desires. with beomgyu as a stranger, it's a lot easier for him to cross certain boundaries and invade mc's privacy because his relationship with her is different. he doesn't have years of friendship weighing on his shoulders, or the constant nagging in the back of his mind that he can't do or think certain things about mc because that's his friend, which is why it takes so little for him to give in and snoop at her private photo albums, and even less to presumably install a rat (remote access trojan) onto her laptop so he can spy on her through her webcam. the things that came so easily to beomgyu, took time and a little manipulation for yeonjun.

i think the scene where they lie to mc is a really good example of what comes easy and the overall difference between them. beomgyu lies to mc so easily, as if he does it all the time, whereas yeonjun hates it. he hates that he has to follow along with the lie beomgyu comes up with on the spot because he can't tell mc what they were actually talking about so he has to deceive her. once they team up, beomgyu secures his spot on yeonjun's shoulder and acts as the little devil on it that whispers all sorts of bad things and plants ideas in his mind until all of the barriers between him and mc come down. what really took me by surprise though, was that at some point we find out that once all those barriers are gone, yeonjun is just as bad as beomgyu (see what i did there? 🤭🤭). all it takes is one stressful situation and beomgyu planting a few ideas in his head until yeonjun beomgyu technically successfully plants a tracking device he bought for mc onto mc's phone and installs another rat to spy on her through her webcam despite previously saying she should probably cover it up because who knows who may or may not be looking on the other side?

after that was when things got really interesting, and also really confusing. it's not that it was hard to read or anything, i just kept jumping between the stalker being soobin or beomgyu and yeonjun because as soon as soobin comes into the picture, the latter's perspectives are suddenly closed off and kept off screen which is why i kept jumping between the three. i think the reason why i even suspected soobin was because the letters only started once he was in the picture, but also because i couldn't see what beomjun were up to, and i know you definitely did that on purpose to confuse people like ME because i was a detective! i was gonna get to the bottom of this case so i was analyzing EVERYTHING. there were so many lines within letters that could be connected to either of them but there was this one part i noticed that made me really suspicious of beomjun. i noticed how the photos attached would only have one or the other in them, never both of them together like an actual outsider could have gotten and my theory only seemed to prove itself when it's mentioned that the camera angles were always different—as if it were two different people taking them. unfortunately, this wasn't enough for me to decide it was definitely beomjun because as soon as soobin was thrown back into the picture, i completely trash that idea and suspect him again. i kept going back and forth, but in the end i concluded it was soobin which was why i sent those asks about how i got it right only to immediately follow up and say i didn't but i actually did because as you can see.... i also thought it was beomjun, the possibility of them setting up soobin just didn't occur to me until it was exposed that that's exactly what they did.

the cabin part was another favorite of mine because it was just so... yandere. even here, there's still those differences between beomgyu and yeonjun with how fast they advance with mc, and when all of the coddling is over, those differences manifest in how forgiving they are of mc when she tries to run away. even though beomgyu claims to love mc, he's ultimately cold and sadistic. he doesn't actuallycare about mc, or at least not the same way yeonjun does. again, i think this all roots back to their initial relationships with her because although yeonjun was rough with mc when they were bringing her back, he wasn't the one who suggested she should be punished while she was running a fever. it's beomgyu who suggests it and when yeonjun doesn't agree, he's quick to turn it on him and say this only happened because of him. beomgyu quickly morphs from the little devil on yeonjun's shoulder, into an entire entity that forces him to do things he doesn't want to do by manipulating and guilt tripping him. the entire time i was reading, whenever beomgyu would do this, i would immediately pick up on it and think damn he's good. and even though there are times when yeonjun would do the same thing, i felt like it was never to the extent beomgyu did and it didn't have nearly the same effect as beomgyu because to me, yeonjun was still human. he was simply forced to act a certain way because that's what beomgyu wanted, it was how he tried to reconstruct yeonjun entirely and eventually it all came back to bite him in the ass because yeonjun was never really like him. 

"you can die for all i care." this scene only proved that, but the damage was already done. yeonjun wasn't entirely himself anymore, even if he saved mc from dying, he still repeatedly stabs beomgyu and continues to do so when he's waaayy past dead.

also, can i just say that reading this part was so crazy because it felt like i was reading a movie? the setting being an isolated cabin on top of a cliff, covered in snow was just perfect to me because i absolutely loved picturing how something as gross and unclean like the blood after a murder mixing with and tainting something as pure and white as snow—hell, even having it in his blonde hair was a trip for me. but back onto the original topic!

"YOU'RE JUST AS BAD!"

i've been wanting to talk about this since i read it because..... oh my god. i think this is the only acceptable way a writer should use all caps because it was just so powerful?!?!1? literally though, because those four words are enough to snap the tiny tiny thread that was holding yeonjun and what little sanity he had left and he tries to kill mc </33 i would have never seen that coming, nor would i have seen mc killing yeonjun because beomgyu had been carrying a gun this entire time. that man was crazy?? why did he have that... was it to get rid of yeonjun?? SO MANY QUESTIONS. but alas.... i will never know because both of them are dead

all in all, i think this was an amazing story and i had so much fun reading it. it was so immersive and entertaining that looking back, it's crazy to think that i'm only reading fanfiction. i think you have a real talent for writing and i wanted to say this before but my ask never got sent so i'll say it here! before i stumbled across your blog, i was scared shitless of reading longer fics, but after reading what the body wants and now only you, darling i've really warmed up and have come to love them in a way i never knew or thought i could because i really believe now that every word is worth the read since it all paints such a big and complex picture that you really just can't get anywhere else. honestly, thinking of it now, i think it's really crazy how creative you are because had someone asked me to come up with such an intricate storyline as this and then write it? i'd spontaneously combust because this really is a talent 😭 i'm not all that good at getting all of my thoughts out, specifically when complimenting, despite my lengthy asks but i hope you know that i do recognize all of the tiny details that make up your stories, even if i don't point them out! besides that, i'm very happy with how this came out and i really hope you are too! i'm not sure how many interactions you'll get considering it's a long story and does take a while to read like you said, but i hope this doesn't discourage you from writing something like this again and that the feedback you receive from those who do take the time to read, is enough to instill confidence and pride in you that no matter how many numbers there are—your story is beyond good and i really can't wait to see what else you'll come up with <3 

i hope that wasn't too sentimental either, because now i have to send the incoherent monstrosity that is my rough draft of this ask. for the most part, they start off the same because i was picking and choosing parts to include and exclude so it might feel like you're reading the same thing all over again, but i promise you! there are differences! that's all i wanted to say though! i hope you're having a good day, and with that i'll finally sign off lmfao – ml

Again, I’ll be addressing specific points below, goddd thank you so much for these asks <3

( I 🫶 ml anon)

-I hope you know that there is no such thing as a review that’s too long on this site, and to think that you gave me both of these gorgeous reviews??? I feel so lucky to have you as an anon, I feel so appreciated <3

(Beomjun’s relationships w/ the mc) -I’ll never get over the fact that i was able to write their character successfully— their relationships with her paid a key part in how they would manipulate her and how quickly— Beomgyu latched onto Yeonjun because of how easily he picked up on his feelings for mc; he knew that it would be the fastest way to get close to her and inside her head. 

(Yeonjun was bad all along!)

-Yeonjun is suuuuch a hypocrite in this story, but I just adored writing him and his teetering sense of morality— and making Beomgyu slowly break it was so satisfying to me as well 🤭

(Who’s behind the letters?) -The idea of the letters only came to when Soobin was introduced— and, you can probably guess who proposed the idea. I’d like to think that Beomgyu made it seem like some grand romantic gesture to convince yj— that even if she would become paranoid and unstable, it would prove that she would always come back to them, and yj could finally express some of his feelings to her— the unhealthier, the better. 

My original plan was to have beomjun make mc cut ties with everyone — make her think that the whole world was against her, that no one would believe her, and that the stalker could be anywhere. But in the end, I decided it would be better if they just did that in a more indirect way— hence, the pictures, unnerving gifts, and threats.  (Beomgyu is fucking evil)

-In the end, Beomgyu was never truly in love with her— it was more like the idea of her and the escapism he sought through her. I never got too detailed in his home life, but I will say it’s not the best— there are small hints at it, but he simply saw the mc as a distraction; and when she didn’t turn out to be the perfect malleable puppet he thought she would be, he simply didn’t care for her anymore. 

Yeonjun, however, has years and years of memories with her— he knows her better than she knows herself, has met all her family and has even visited the ones that are out of town/state— he’s gone on vacations with her, they’ve been through tough times together, and have basically been together for all their lives; granted, they only became closer in the more recent years of their friendship, but the foundation is still very strong— so whenever Yeonjun hesitated to hurt her, it was because his connection with her truly ran deeper than just affection; at some point, it was just them against the world. Plus, when he thinks of the harm he’s done to her, he also thinks of her family— after all, they love and trust him enough that they called him when they wanted to check up on the mc— I could go on and on about their relationship, but then I’d just be repeating myself. (It’s just so interesting) 

(Yeonjun and his attempt at manipulation)  -God I love how detailed you are with this review, it just lets me continue my ramble about the characters— Yeonjun, essentially, was afraid of Beomgyu. He knew from the very beginning that he was no good and that there was something wrong with him— so whenever Beomgyu begins to become harsher with his tactics, Yeonjun decides at some point that it’s simply better to just go along with it; he’s literally seen the extent that bg will go to get rid of someone he sees as an obstacle. Who's to say he wouldn’t be next? 

(My favorite cabin scene <3) -Goooddd, I��d give anything to allow you guys to see my vision; that scene will forever hold a special place in my heart, I just wish I described it more— so I will proceed to do so now! 

In my mind, it was set during blue hour— it’s an actual thing, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. the lights are off because the mc simply didn’t feel like turning them on yet— there was still enough natural light for her to see clearly. 

Since it’s a very desolate cabin atop a mountain, it’s silent— save for the wind that continuously hits the windows and whistles through branches. So, when yj is continuously stabbing bg, the sound is loud— deafening, even. He’s grunting, yelling, frustrated and even crying at some point as he straight up loses his mind— and mc is just pressed against the wall, shaking in horror as she’s forced to witness it all. 

The rest is history, but I hope y’all know how much I just love that scene. 

(I love this quote sm(you’re just as bad!))  -God, that quote was immediately in my planning notes— I knew from the very beginning that it would be in there. I absolutely despise when dialogue is written in all caps because I feel like there’s always better ways that a writer can describe a person yelling— but this, this was more than that. 

This was the mc finally standing her ground— a desperate attempt to make Yeonjun see that he would not get away with what he did, that they ruined her life— she had allowed herself to be manipulated and pushed around long enough, and now she was tired. 

As I wrote it in, I just prayed that all of that would be portrayed the format of it— all caps can truly be powerful if used correctly <3

(Beomgyu is fucking insane!!!/ the gun in his jacket))

-Aaaaaahhhhh I loooove this quote because yes!!! That man was out of his goddamn mind!! 

The only thing I have to say is… neither of them were ever truly going to be content with sharing. 

(My gratitude + plans for the future) 

-It’s crazy to think that writing fan fiction of all things is what helped me realize my passion— this blog has been and immense step forward in bettering my writing and figuring out what works and what doesn’t— it sounds bittersweet, but my goal is to move on from this account in the future and become a published author; now if I’m successful or not is another milestone. 

I won’t lie, it was a bit disheartening to see the big difference between take it!, emo boy, and OYD. From my experience, small smut fics are usually what courses through the app best; and there’s nothing wrong with that! There are days where short stories are all I have the patience to read, so I understand why a big 40K project would be so off putting. 

But, the thing about OYD is that it’s not meant to be broken up into smaller pieces— it’s supposed to be this giant, overwhelming rollercoaster because you’re meant to be placed in the mc’s perspective; you’re meant to see the slow descent into madness, forced to sit with the heavy ending thinking “what now?” Because poor mc, that’s the true question for her; Unfortunately, I will say that she wouldn’t be living a very happy life after all that. 

But now, after seeing all this intricate feedback on my story, I realized that it truly doesn’t matter! Yes, it sucks that my long project didn’t do any insane numbers, and sometimes I feel a little disrespected (lightheartedly) whenever someone drops a like and leaves it at that, (this isn’t instagram, my lovelies!) but reviews like yours are what truly make it worth it in the end. Knowing that I’ve reached people, managed to get my message across, and impacted them enough that they went out of their way to leave such sweet comments— it’s those little things that make me excited to come back. I hope that my works only continue to improve in the future <3

(Thank you ml anon :)) )

-Thank you thank you thank youuuuu soooo much for all you do, I can never express how much I really appreciate and think about you— seriously, the effect you have breaches into real life; I won’t forget how giddy and happy both of these reviews left me for days, and I’m sorry it took me so long to respond! It’s just that I wanted to make sure that I gave back the energy you put into writing this. I hope you know that people like you are what keep me passionate to write more. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I���m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[blipblooopp]

Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

[river-bottom-nightmare]

i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view. 

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

tag list:  @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg

[waitimcomingtoo]

OOOOOO, I really like your writing and u asked for prompts. So, maybe u could do a really shy!reader or mute!reader with peter? I think that be cute! Or you can do it with tom since u said once that you like writing for tom more :)

secret language

Pairing: Peter Parker x Mute!Reader

Synopsis: a study in the silence that comes when two people understand each other

Masterlist

You sat alone at on a bench on your first day of kindergarten, feeling intimidated by the noise and spectacle of it all. You hugged your backpack to your chest, wishing the day could go faster so you could fo home.

Then he came up to you.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” A curly haired boy pulled the seat out next to you and sat down. You waved at Peter and put your backpack on the table, deciding to give him a chance.

“Do you have a name?” Peter asked, and you nodded your head. You took his hand and laid his palm flat, carefully writing your name with your finger.

“Wait, do it again.” Peter requested, watching your every move intently. You wrote your name again on his palm and he titled his head, staring at his hand like the word would be written there.

“Y/n?” He looked up at you once he figured it out. “Am I saying it right?”

You nodded happily and pointed to yourself before giving him a thumbs up. Peter smiled proudly and looked at his hand again.

“Do you not talk?” He wondered, making you shake your head no.

“That’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t like to talk either.”

Peter began to swing his legs, looking around the classroom in awe before his eyes fell on Aunt May, who was talking to the teacher.

“Is your mommy still here?” He turned to you to ask. You nodded and pointed to your mom, who was laughing with one of the single dads.

“She’s pretty. Her shoes are so tall!” Peter exclaimed as he pointed at her high heels. You laughed silently, smiling to show that you agreed. Peter smiled back at you, several teeth in the front row missing. His smile faded suddenly as he looked down at his lap.

“My parents just died.” He confessed to you. “Uncle Ben said they’re in heaven. I tried to look for Heaven on the map on the subway, but I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?”

You shook your head and Peter sighed.

“Me either.” He said, pouring a little as he slumped in his seat. You sat in silence for a moment until you heard a little noise from Peter.

“I miss my mommy.” He said quietly, his voice sounding weak.

Your eyes filled with sympathy for Peter as you stuck your bottom lip out. Peter watched you curiously as you reached out your hand, taking his little one in your own and squeezing it three times. Peter gasped a little, looking up at you with wide eyes as you gave him a gentle smile. It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he was scared, three squeezes to say three words.

I. Love. You.

Aunt May didn’t know about their little ritual, so when Peter squeezed her hand three times as they lowered his mom into the ground, she didn’t squeeze back. It made Peter wonder if anyone would tell him they loved him in the secret language ever again. But here you were, squeezing his hand to let him know it was okay.

“Thank you.” He smiled, his eyes no longer glassy. “I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he noticed that were missing teeth too. Peter pointed to your mouth and laughed before pointing to his own. You both doubled over on the bench (I was over on the bench) in a fit of laughter, as if you had reached the very apex of comedy with missing teeth and gaps in your smiles.

You and Peter spent the day together, communicating though words written on his palm or on a piece of paper. He found it very easy to understand you, even when you didn’t speak. He liked your quiet company far better than the loud children in the class, knocking over blocks and crying over toys. You were different, and Peter liked different.

At the end of the day, Peter saw his family and grabbed your hand, running towards them with you in tow.

“Aunt May! Uncle Ben! I made a friend. She’s a mule.” Peter proudly presented you to his aunt and uncle. You smiled politely at them as they shared a confused look.

“What sweetie?” Aunt May asked as she crouched down a little. In the mean time, your mother had spotted you holding hands with Peter and made her way over.

“Mute. Y/n is a selective mute.” Your mother explained as she came up behind you. “Hi, I’m her mother.”

“Like on a remote!” Peter cheered as the adults shook hands. “Can she come over?”

“Is that alright with her mommy?” Uncle Ben looked at your mother for permission.

“Sure.” Your mother complied. “If you give her a piece of paper, she can write some words down. I’ll give you my number just in case.”

“She doesn’t need paper.” Peter shook his head. “We can already talk, look.”

Peter held you your enjoined hands and squeezed yours three times. You squeezed back, making him grin.

“See? She said she loves me.” He exclaimed, letting your hands drop back to your sides.

“That’s so cute. I was so worried about her making friends. She stopped speaking after her father passed.” Your mother quietly explained to May and Ben.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Peters parents just passed as well.” May said sympathetically while Ben watched the two of you. A complicit smile sat on his lips as he saw his nephew genuinely smile for the first time since his parents died.

“My condolences.” Your mother touched May’s arm kindly.

“Thank you.” May put her hand over your mother’s. “It’s been really difficult for him. It’s been so long since he-“

She was cut off by Peter laughing loudly at something you didn’t say, but conveyed. Tears brimmed in her eyes as you wrote something on Peter’s palm, something that made him light up like the forth of July.

“Since he’s been happy.” She finished.

“Lucky they found each other, huh?” Your mother smiled fondly as she watched you and Peter play, earning a nod from May.

And lucky you were.

Over the next few years, you and Peter developed a secret language entirely comprised of soft touches, expressive looks and squeezes. It was a dialect that only existed between the two of you, and that was how you liked it.

“Welcome, students, to your first day of high school. My name is Mrs. Ingrid, I’ll be your english teacher this year. I’d like us to go around the room and say your name and what you did this summer.”

You looked at Peter with panicked eyes as tired groans echoed around the classroom. It was your very first period of your very first day and you were already freaking out. Peter gave you a gentle smile as he reached across his desk and took your hand, giving it three solid squeezes.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “I got you.”

“Mr. Parker.” Mrs. Ingrid said suddenly. “Since you’re talking, would you like to go first?”

“O-Okay.” Peter stuttered as he stood up from his desk. “My name is Peter Parker. This summer I watched all the Star Wars movies in a row without breaking to sleep.”

“Thank you for sharing.” She nodded curtly and turned to you, as you were seated next to Peter. “Ms. L/n, you can go next.”

“This is-“ Peter began.

“I believe she can speak for herself.” Mrs. Ingrid snapped, narrowing her eyes at Peter. You looked at Peter with eyes full of guilt as you unintentionally made him get off on the wrong foot with the teacher. You expected Peter to be scared, but his face showed that he was perfectly calm.

“Actually she can’t, ma’am.” Peter said politely. “This is Y/n L/n and she’s mute. She also spent her summer watching the Star Wars movies but she fell asleep sometime between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith.”

Surprised murmurs swept though the crowd at the mention of the word “mute”. It was something the students hadn’t been exposed to yet and you felt the individual pricks as they sunk their teeth into it. Knowing the pantomime spotlight was being shone on you, you turned to the class and gave a weak smile.

“My apologies.” Mrs. Ingrid said shortly. “I forgot we had a disabled student this year. Thank you, Peter. And welcome Y/n.”

She turned her back to the class to hide the flush of embarrassment as a student called her out, but Peter had more to say.

“It’s not a disability.” He spoke up, shrinking in his seat when everyone’s eyes went to him.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Ingrid turned around with an unamused grin.

“Well, Y/n is mute because of an anxiety disorder.” Peter explained. “She physically has the ability to speak, but she mentally feels like she can’t. She doesn’t see it as a disability.”

“Did she tell you that?” Flash, a boy with his name stitched onto the pocket of his shirt, asked from somewhere behind the room, making the whole room laugh at you.

The whole room except Peter

Peter turned around in his seat and glared at Flash, armed and ready to defend you if needed.

“Yes, she did.” Peter stated. “She tells me everything.”

Flash snickered and rolled his eyes as Peter turned around in his seat. Other students continues to gawk at you, as if your mutism could be seen on the outside. Your face flamed red until you felt Peters hand on your shoulder, squeezing it three times to calm you down.

“I apologize, Y/n.” Mrs. Ingrid smiled at you. “Would the next student like to go?”

You walked home once the day had ended with Peter by your side, quietly thinking to yourself as he talked about his science class.

“Anyways.” He paused time catch his breath as he finished his story. “How was your day?”

You looked at him sideways before grabbing his hand and writing an “E” on his palm.

“Come on. English wasn’t that bad.” He insisted, grimacing a little when you glared at him. You made a gesture of a circle before sharply pointing at yourself.

“I know. But I bet everyone had a moment today where they felt like everyone was staring at them.” Peter tried to assure you but you rolled your eyes.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Peter said decidedly. “That Flash kid is so annoying though. How many classes do you have with him?”

You held up three fingers and Peters eyes widened in sympathy.

“Three?” He gasped. I’m so sorry. Hopefully he was just trying to show off for the first day.”

You shrugged a little and pantomimed popping your collar, to which Peter laughed.

“Right?” Peter exclaimed. “Why does he dress like a mobsters son?”

Your shoulders moved up and down as you silently laughed with him, nearing your apartment building now.

“We should do something to celebrate our first day.” Peter decided. “What do you want?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, a smile appearing on his face as he caught your drift.

“You read my mind.” He sighed happily and he shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. “Coffee ice cream and Impractical Jokers it is.”

You put your hands over your heart and made a dreamy expression, to which Peter let out a groan.

“Stop it.” He laughed though a whine. “You’re the only one who thinks Sal is hot.”

You shoved him playfully as you entered the lobby of your building, making a face he knew all too well.

“I’m not having this argument with you again.” He wagged his finger in your face as he pushed the elevator button. You pouted and took his hand, writing out an expletive on his palm.

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” Peter feigned a gasp as he held his hand to his chest. You gave him an unamused look as he laughed at his own joke.

“Hey. “ He said suddenly as he took your hand. “Happy first day.”

You reluctantly smiled at his newfound sentimentality and squeezed his hand three times, for for each word.

~

“Mrs. Ingrid.” Flash’s hand shot up one November morning. “When we present the projects tomorrow, can Brian present mine?”

“No, Eugene.” She sighed, a snicker coming from the class as he used his first name. “Every student must do their own presentation.”

“Then how come Y/n doesn’t have to do one?” He asked spitefully, making everyone look at you. You looked to Peter for help, who was already turned in his seat to face Flash.

“You know why she doesn’t.” He said dully, tired of Flash’s unjustified vendetta against you.

“Well I don’t think it’s fair that she gets special treatment.” Flash short back, making some students “ooo” and agree.

“It’s not special treatment. Y/n is mute, Flash. You, on the other hand, have made it very clear that you are not.” Peter sassed, making the class laugh. Flash’s face turned red in embarrassment as he looked around the room for help.

“Selective mute.” He emphasized. “That means she can talk if she wanted to. You said so on the first day, Penis Parker.”

“It’s not like a light switch she can turn on and off, Flash. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice. Leave her alone.” Peter barked, getting up out of his seat now.

“If she wants me to leave her alone, she should tell me herself.” Flash snapped, getting up as well. You looked between the two boys with fearful eyes, tugging on Peters sleeve to get him to back down.

“What’s your problem?” Peter asked angrily. “What are you, jealous because she’s never spoken in this class yet still outperforms you?”

The class laughed at Peters insult, only making Flash angrier.

“I’d like to see how well she’d do without you as her interpreter.” He yelled as he pointed a finger at Peter.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Ingrid slammed her hands on her desk. “Both of you, sit down. Y/n will be doing a power point presentation. End of discussion.”

“Yeah, that’s enough Eugene.” Peter hissed as he took his seat.

“That’ll be all, Peter.” Mrs. Ingrid narrowed her eyes at your best friend. “If this continues, I’ll have to request that the three of you be separated and put into different classes.”

“Why should Y/n and I be separated just because Flash is a dick?” Peter asked, eyes widened when he realized what he said. The students laughed at the sound of a curse word, even if it was one the uses on a daily. You looked at Peter scornfully and tapped his desk twice, communicating with him to calm down.

“Mr. Parker. I’ll be seeing you in detention.” Mrs. Ingrid stated. “Everyone, take out your textbooks and turn to page 117.”

You put your textbook on your desk and looked at Peter, giving him a sympathetic pout for getting him in trouble. You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it twice to apologize.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered to you. “Detention is a small price to pay for getting to call Flash a dick to his face.”

You squeezed his hand again and tilted your head to the side, making him shake his head at you.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Peter insisted.” It was mine. I interrupted the class, not you. Don’t worry about me.”

You sighed and brushed the side of your nose with your thumb, causing Peter to smile.

“I know.” He said softly. “I always worry about you too.”

~

You found Peter waiting for you at your locker at the end of the school day, bouncing with excitement to tell you a story from his algebra class. You listened intently as you collected your books, linking your arm through his once you were done. You walked past Mrs. Ingrids classroom and heard someone clear their throat, making you both stop in your tracks.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Parker?” She asked as she appeared in the doorway, arms folded and glasses perched on the lower part of her nose bridge.

“Shoot. I forgot I have detention.” Peter groaned before turning to you. “Do you mind waiting?”

You pointed behind you with your thumb and shrugged as Peter chewed his lip nervously.

“Are you sure? What if somebody asks you for directions?” He worried, not liking the idea of you walking home by yourself. You looked at him like he was silly and pointed your finger in both directions, signally that you could just point someone in the right direction of the asked.

“Well what if the directions are really complex?” Peter added, coming up with any excuse he could think of. You made a gesture that Mrs. Ingrid didn’t understand, but seemed to make all the sense in the world to Peter.

“You’re right. You don’t need a babysitter.” He agreed. “Do you want to meet back in my room at 4?”

You nodded and took his books from him so you could drop them off in his room.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He promised as you took his hand and squeezed it three times.

“I love you too.” He smiled, giving you three squeezes before walking in the direction of the detention room. Mrs. Ingrid watched him until he disappeared around a corner, turning to you once he was gone.

“You and Peter, are you two together?” She questioned, making you shake your head. She smiled a little, looking amused as she took off her glasses and rubbed them on her shirt.

“Someone should tell him that.” She chuckled, sliding her glasses back on her face. You put your hand over your heart and rubbed it in a circle, the first gesture Mrs. Ingrid understood.

“I see.” She nodded. “You have a nice day now, Y/n. Get home safe.”

You smiled in appreciation at her before waving goodbye, walking out the doors of the school and towards your building.

You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your backpack as you walked, taking every precaution to step over the cracks in the sidewalk as you approached them.

“Hey, Hellen Keller, wait up.”

You froze for a moment when you heard Flash’s voice behind you before quickly picking up your pace. Unfortunately, he had the same idea and ran to catch up with you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn around when he got there.

“I was talking to you. Are you deaf too now?” He snickered devilishly as you pulled your arm out of his grasp. You kept walking, but he fell into a stride right beside you.

“So how does it work? Can you and Peter read each other’s thoughts? Does he ever think about me?” Flash batted his eyelashes but you ignored him. You swallowed nervously as you began to wish you had just waited for Peter.

“Come on, Y/n. You should take my interest in you as a compliment.” Flash smirked, making you roll your eyes. “I wanna hear you speak.”

Your unbreaking silence woke up something animalistic in Flash, making him grab both your arms and pushing you into a vacant alley. He pressed you against a wall, gripping both your arms so tight, you were sure they’d bruise.

“Didn’t you hear me? Say something.” He bellowed, getting right in your face as he screamed. You turned your face away and grimaced, fidgeting to get out of his grasp.

“Fine.” He laughed in a way that made your blood turn cold. “You don’t want to talk? Then I wanna hear you scream.”

Your eyes widened as he threw you to the ground, your body skidding on the pavement as you moved. He stalked up to you like a Brute, towering over you as you held up a hand.

“Where’s your little boyfriend now?” He asked, raising his fist above your head. A scream ripped through your throat as his fist came down, never making contact with your face. You opened your eyes slowly and saw him wiping his hands, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“That’s what I thought. See you tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your PowerPoint.” He quipped, spitting on the ground next to you before leaving. Once you were sure he was gone, you sat up. Your hands went to your elbow first, as you felt blood tricking from an open wound. It wasn’t anything serious, just a scrape and a friction burn. Your hands then traveled to your neck, fingers resting over your vocal chords. You hadn’t heard a sound come from your mouth in 10 years, not even a laugh. The scream that came from your mouth was different from screams you’d heard in movies. It was deeper and hollow, as if it came from an animal. Tears stung your eyes as you got up, body aching from hitting the ground. You looked around the corner before continuing your way home, looking over your shoulder every so often out of fear.

You cleaned your elbow up in Peters bathroom, sticking a few Paw Patrol bandaids to the cut as you waiting for him to come home. You ended up falling asleep on his bed, only waking up when he came in a quarter last five.

“Hey sleepy head. I’m sorry I’m late.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt beside his bed. “Mrs. Ingrid made me write on the board 100 times like Bart Simpson. Did you get back okay?”

You nodded as you sat up, slowly opening your sleep heavy eyes. Peter smiled as he smoothed the hair that was sticking up on either side of your part, smile fading when he took a closer look at your face.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” He worried as he cupped your face, turning it slightly to get a better look. Taking a deep breath to brace for Peters reaction, you held out your arm. He caught sight of the bandaids almost instantly, looking at you in disbelief before gently examining your arm.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded as he carefully twisted your arm to see the full extent of the wound. You weakly pantomimed a popped collar, seeing the anger in Peters eyes grow as he understood.

“Fucking Flash.” He stood up abruptly and slammed his hand on his wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.”

You got up and went over to him, shaking your head sympathetically.

“I did too have a choice.” He disagreed. “People skip detention all the time. How could I let this happen?” He asked, more so to himself as he sat on the bed. He put his head in his hands, hiding out of the shame he felt. You took a seat beside him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while resting your head on his body. You tapped his leg four times, making him bring his head out of his heads to shake it.

“It is my fault.” He told you. “I provoked him in English and that’s why he went after you. I should’ve been there. I’m so sorry.”

You pouted and took his chin between your fingers, squeezing his arm twice with your free hand.

“It’s not okay!” He yelled. “He’s been targeting you since day one. I bet he planned this. He’s probably been waiting to get you along. Did he hurt you anywhere else? Oh god, did he touch you?” Peter could barely see past his disgust long enough to get the words, turning a little green as the worst case scenario played in his mind. You frantically shook your head and Peter calmed down just a little.

“He’s lucky. He’d be a dead man if he did.” Peter stated assertively. You tilted your head and gave him a disapproving look that he read in seconds.

“How am I overreacting?” He asked. “You’re hurt! He hurt you! Screw this - I’m gonna kill him.” He got up again and heading towards the door. You sprung up from the bed and threw your arms around him from behind, stopping him in his tracks. You squeezed his tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder as you held him back. He struggled to break out of your grasp until he heard a strangled sound emit from your throat. As distorted and muffled as it was, Peter knew was you were trying to say.

“Stay.”

He hung his head in shame, knowing it scared you when he raised his voice. He put his hands over yours, which had been resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, keeping his eyes down. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You know I worry about you.”

You slowly withdrew your hands and turned him around, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.

“I know you don’t need me to protect you. Is it wrong that I still want too?” He smiled weakly as he leaned into your palms. You shook your head and moved your hands down to his shoulders, shrugging a little to tell him you didn’t mind.

“I’m walking you home tomorrow.” He promised as he pulled you into a hug. “And everyday for the rest of my life.”

You patted his back four times, making his body shake with laughter.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sounds good to me too.”

~

You entered Peters room a little over a year later after receiving a frantic text. The text contained exactly one word, “ouchie”, and the rest was gibberish. Peters wise eyes met yours and you smiled at him, smile fading as your eyes trailed down his body. He was clad in nothing but his boxers and one single sock, glistening with sweat from head to toe. Your best friends lean and scrawny body that you has seen hundreds of times since your childhood was replaced with broad shoulders and solid muscle, features that made your face burn all the way to your ears. That wasn’t what shocked you, though. What shocked you was the series of papers, pens, shirts, and granola bars that were sticking to his body as if adhered with glue.

“Whats happening to me?” He screamed, tugging at a Nature Valley bar sticking to his nipple. You held back a laugh when you saw how scared he looked and approached him slowly like a deer in the woods. You reached out a hand but he backed away as if you might burn him.

“Don’t.” He croaked. “You’ll stick too and I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

You waved your hand in dismissal and reached out again, placing a cool hand on Peters burning cheek. His eyes shut in tranquillity as he leaned into your hand, letting your touch calm him as it had done so many times in the past.

You peeled a shirt off his shoulder and plucked a pencil off his thigh as his breathing slowed down. You cupped his face in your hands and looked at him, wordlessly asking him to tell you what happened.

“I went to Oscorp yesterday and this spider bit me and I woke up really sweaty - and I mean really sweaty - and then I got super hungry so I went ham on granola bars - and I’m talking ape shit Y/n I didn’t even chew I just went feral on those crumbly bitches - and then things kept sticking to me and I don’t know what to do and-“

You acted on a whim and pulled Peters face towards yours, kissing him firmly on the lips. The only noise in the room was the sound of pens and granola bars hitting the ground as they slowly unstuck from his body. Peter places a gentle hand on your face as he kissed you back. You pulled away, feeling his eyelashes tickle your face as his eyes fluttered open.

“And you just kissed me.” He laughed slightly, pace significantly slower now. You gave him a knowing look and shrugged a little, making him laugh.

“You’re right.” He realized. “You didn’t stick.”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and pressed your forehead against his, letting silence fill the room as he held you.

“I don’t know what this means. I’m…I’m scared.” He whispered as he nuzzled against you. You shook your head a little, telling him he didn’t have to be scared. Moving your head up to look at you, you took his face between your hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. After the third kiss, a cheeky smile lingered on Peters lips.

“I love you too.” He told you, grinning widely before kissing you again.

~

You laid on Peters chest, a few years out of college now. His shirt was riding up a little, exposing bare skin that served as your canvas. A shy smile made on a home on your face as you traced letters on his skin.

“What was that?” He asked when he felt your touch but couldn’t make out your words. “Say it again.”

You chuckled a little at his phrasing, and he did too. In accordance to his request, you wrote your sentence again, taking your time with the curve of each letter. Peter furrowed his eyebrows a little as he propped himself up on his elbows, a little annoyed with himself for not being able to decipher what you were saying. He prided himself on being fluent in your secret language, so the only possible answer was that whatever you were writing now was something you had never written before.

“Wait, do it again.” He asked, determined to crack the code. You sat up on your elbow as well, looking at him through your lashes as you traced the words again.

“I’m convinced this is gibberish.” Peter shook his head through a chuckle, looking at curiously to see if you were messing with him. You let out a tiny whine as you stuck your bottom lip out, patting his chest twice to tell him to try harder.

“Fine, fine. Try again. But go slowly.”

You sucked in a breath and held your fingernail to his skin, slowly tracing the first word.

“Will?” He asked, grinning when you nodded and continued to write.

“You?” He looked to you for confirmation. “Will you?”

You nodded again, feeling butterflies now and you moved to the next word.

“Many?” He questioned. You shook your head repeatedly, anxious for him to figure it out. You wrote it again and saw it click for him.

“Ohh. Marry.” He smiled, proud of himself for getting it. His eyes met yours and all at once, he understood why he couldn’t figure it out before.

No one fault really, you just never proposed to him before.

“Wait.” His lips curved into a smile as he cupped your chin with his hand.

“Do it again.” He asked, unable to contain his excitement as you repeated your actions.

“One more time.” He pleaded, eyes filling with tears now. “I know what it is, I just want to feel it again.”

You wrote it again, writing it on every exposed part of his body now. You proposed on his arm, his chest, his leg and his bicep, a man excited squeal leaving his throat each time you did it.

“Give me your hand.” He fully sat up now, wrapping his arms around you and taking your hand in his. He opened your hand and flattened your palm, bringing his finger to your skin.

“Y-E-S.” He spelled out loud as he wrote on your palm. “Yes. I will marry you.”

~

Smoothing your dress with a shaking hand, you turned to your mom for last minute adjustments before you walked down the isle. She smiled widely as she touched up your hair, handing you your bouquet once she was satisfied.

“Are you ready?” She asked. “That’s a dumb question. You’ve been ready for this since kindergarten.”

Nodding at your mothers words of encouragements, you nervously clutched your bouquet of sunflowers and roses, yours and Peters favorite flowers.

“You’re so lucky to have found each other.” Your mother smiled fondly as she dusted off your shoulders. “To understand someone the way you do, it’s rare. Your father would be proud.”

Emotion overcame you as you pulled your mother into a hug, thanking her the only way you could for getting you that far. The vamping of the organ signaled to you that it was time to go, all your nervously butterflies turning into petals of excitement. Your mother gave you an assuring smile as she slipped her hand into yours, both of you facing forward now as the doors opened.

Everyone turned to look at you, a welcome gesture this time around, as you made your way down the isle. You made eye contact with Peter, who had a hand clamped over his mouth to hide his emotions. He wiped tears from his eyes as Ned patted his back, silently willing you to come faster down the isle. In his mind, you couldn’t walk fast enough. He was not interested in spending one more minute as just your boyfriend. As you got closer to the alter, you waved at the Avengers who had put on their best suits to attend your big day.

And finally, you made your way to Peter.

You whole life had been about making your way to Peter, and now, dressed in white, you had arrived. You handed your bouquet to your mother and accepted Peters hand to help you step onto the alter. Peter sniffled a little as he took your hands in his, overwhelmed in the moment by your beauty.

The priest began to speak, but you didn’t hear much. All you could focus on was your childhood best friend, soon to be husband. Your palms sweat as the vows approached, an unfamiliar tickle resting in your throat.

“And now, the vows.” The priest handed the baton to you and Peter.

“Sunsets, flowers, and you. Three beautiful things that don’t make any noise. I believe some of the most wonderful things a human being can experience happen in silence. I believe that because of you.” Peters voice cracked momentarily. “I stand before you today as someone who is permanently subscribed to your silence. I look forward to a lifetime of knowing looks and written messages on the palm of my hand. I never knew how much could be said through three simple squeezes of my hand, but it feels like my entire life has happened since the first time you touched me and the last. Though your voice has never fallen on my ears, I’m confident I could identify it anywhere. You and I have created something incredible rare, a silence that only comes when two people truly know each other. And I know you. I am blessed to say I know you. I have never heard you speak, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear you. I hear you in the early hours of the morning when the birds begin to chirp. I hear you when the blood rushes to my face because you looked at me in a certain way. I hear you when the music swells in my favorite song, and I hear you in every beat of my heart. I won’t tell you I’ll love you until death do us part, because even the jaws of death couldn’t end my love for you. I will just find you in the next life, and the one after that. Nothing could keep me away.”

You touched delicate fingers to your under eyes as you dabbed away tears, squeezing Peters hands three times to thank him for his beautiful words. Now the spotlight had once again returned to you and this time, you were ready.

“Peter.”

Peters eyes widened in astonishment before brimming with tears as your voice fell on his ears for the very first time. It wasn’t perfect after so many years of being unused, but it was yours. That’s what made it Peter’s favorite thing in the world. He bent over and rested his forehead on your enjoyed hands, almost like he was bowing to you. He stayed there for a moment before standing up again, his face full of emotion. You knew he was composed enough for you to continue, so you did.

“I shut my mouth when I was 5 and I didn’t think I was going to open it ever again. But then I met you.” You broke into a smile. You spoke slowly, taking deep breaths every few words. “There is no other way I would want to use my voice than to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you.” You sucked in a deep breath as you got emotional. “My mom worried that I wouldn’t make any friends my first day of school, and I didn’t. I made a partner for life. It is one thing to be loved and another thing to be understood. You give me me both in three small squeezes. I love you, Peter.” You finished, punctuating your vows with three squeezes of his hands.

“I love you too.” He whispered, a steady flow of tears streaming down his face now.

“I love you more.” You said, verbally for the first time.

“Peter Parker, do you take Y/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” The priest asked.

“I do.”

“Y/n L/n, do you take Peter Parker to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and honor, for better or for worse?”

“I do.”

“Oh my God.” Peter gushed, making the crowd laugh. Peter was still recovering from the fact that your first word was his name, and now you had said the two sacred words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” The priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”

Peter wasted no time in taking your face between his hands and kissing you, smiling with joy into the kiss as you officiated your marriage.

“You did so good baby.” He whispered against your lips as the crowd clapped for you.

“Thank you.” You giggled, proud of yourself for what you did. “I’ve been practicing with my therapist since the proposal.”

“It was amazing. That’s was the greatest surprise anyone’s ever given me. Even if it was just for today, I’m so happy I could hear your voice. I love you so much.” He told you before pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder and held him tightly, thanking God that he came up to you that first day of kindergarten.

“I love you too.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort @foreverxholland @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 t @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland @unbelievableholland @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo @quaksonhehe @kelieah @kickingn-ames @babeyspidey @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258 @maybemona @young-romanoff @alexxcorona113 @spidey-reids-2003 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey @im-still-tryin-to-find-it @big-galaxy-chaos @pandaxnienke @thestylestour @officialsimppage

[starlingflight]

The Way Ahead

A/N: Asked @floreatcastellumposts to give me a prompt to get me out of my writer’s block (If anyone else wants to send me a prompt, then please do!). She gave me ‘McGonagall finds out that Harry is an Auror’ and this was the result: 

Minerva sighed as she fell heavily into the chair behind her new desk. Her bones ached from weariness; she took a sip of her tea in order to suppress the yawn threatening to escape her. There was no time for rest. 

The parchment in front of her was so long the end of it snaked off the edge of the desk and trailed onto the rich carpet, the list of chores upon it stretching across the office. 

Minerva took her quill and began searching down the list, ticking off items which had been dealt with. Hagrid had managed to secure the Thestral herd this morning. Minerva tried not to think about how much longer that particular task may have taken if not for the increased number of volunteers who could now see the winged horses roaming the battle-scarred grounds of Hogwarts. 

She scratched her quill across the parchment, and scanned down the rest of the never ending list. The repairs of the castle were taking longer than expected, due in part, to the ancient magic holding much of the structure up. And creating a definitive list of which students would and would not be returning in the Autumn was proving rather difficult. Nobody, it appeared, was quite ready to think about the future just three short weeks after the fall of Voldemort. 

“I’m getting too old for this,” Minerva whispered, lifting her cup to take another sip. 

“Nonsense,” came a voice from behind her. Minerva jumped slightly, having forgotten once again that her new office came with an audience. “I should think there's still a few decades in you yet.” 

She did not bother responding to Albus’ remark, his portrait, it seemed, would be just as taxing as the man himself had been. 

Never mind that his tenure of the school had not started with the most devastating battle Hogwarts had seen in its long history, never mind that she would have to oversee a cohort of students who would be unable to walk the corridors without replaying scenes from said battle, never mind that a vast number of them were dealing with the loss of loved ones to Voldemort's tyranny. 

Minerva was pulled from her morose thoughts by a soft knock on the door. She bit back another sigh, mentally steeling herself for the next in a long line of problems she was sure was about to walk through her door.

“Enter.” 

The door opened slowly, almost tentatively, and a shock of untidy black hair appeared around it. 

“Good evening, Professor,” Harry Potter said politely. “Do you have a moment for me and Neville?” 

Minerva pressed her lips together, attempting to hold back a smile. She doubted there was a single witch or wizard in the country that couldn’t spare a minute for Harry these days. 

“Come in,” she said at once, gesturing to the two chairs in front of the desk as Harry and Neville entered her office. 

It had only been a week since she'd seen the pair of them last at Remus and Nymphadora’s funeral. Neither of them looked any better than they had then. Both of them had dark circles under their eyes as though they’d had trouble sleeping and a staid expression upon their faces which would look out of place on most teenagers. 

It was not their expressions, however, that caught Minerva’s attention, but the matching robes which the two young men were wearing, scarlet with gold fringe and the Ministry crest embossed upon their chests. 

“Am I to assume you’ve come to tell me you won’t be returning to school in September?” Minerva asked, directing a cup of tea to each of them with her wand. 

“We’ve joined the Aurors,” Neville said, though it was rather unnecessary given his attire. “We wanted to come and tell you ourselves.” 

There was a hint of uncertainty in Neville’s voice, his lip trembled slightly and Minerva was forcefully reminded of the young boy who had tripped on his way up to the sorting hat many years ago. 

“Kingsley asked us,” Harry added. “He said it didn’t matter about our N.E.W.Ts because we have real world experience.” 

Harry did not look uncertain in the way that Neville had. Minerva could not remember the last time Harry had looked unsure of himself, though she was sure it had been years ago at this point.

“A characteristically wise decision by our new Minister for Magic,” Minerva said honestly. “I, for one, will rest easier knowing the Auror department is being replenished with such worthy young men.” 

Neville spluttered slightly on the tea he’d been sipping. He lowered his cup to reveal his face had turned the same colour as his robes. Harry frowned down at his shoes, his expression not unlike the one he wore in her class when dealing with a particularly difficult transfiguration problem. 

“Gran’s quite pleased,” Neville said once he’d regained his composure. “She said my mum and dad would be proud.” 

A lump suddenly rose in Minerva’s throat, her hand trembled slightly where it gripped the delicate, china cup. Her thoughts were cast back almost eighteen years. 

It was an unbearably stifling summer day, the muggy sort of weather which made Minerva want to do little more than retreat to her office with her books and a well-aimed cooling charm. Today, however, she had other plans. 

She knocked softly on the door of the remote house the Longbottom’s called home. Only a moment later, the door was opened by a beaming Frank, he gestured for Minerva to enter with an excited hand, pulling her into a hug the moment she stepped over the threshold. 

In the tiny sitting room she found Alice, looking tired but perfectly at peace with the tiny pink bundle clutched tightly to her chest. 

“Neville,” She said softly. “Meet Minerva, one day she’s going to be your head of house.” 

Minerva moved closer, reaching out a finger to stroke Neville’s soft cheek. “He’s beautiful,” she breathed. 

Alice held the baby out to her and Minerva gladly took him, cradling him close and rocking him slightly. His little eyelids fluttered for a moment as he passed over but Neville did little more than yawn before closing them again. 

“He’s going to make a brilliant Auror one day,” Frank said, resting a loving hand on Alice’s shoulder. 

“No,” Alice said sharply, her expression suddenly turning stern. “He’s going to live a life of peace. He’ll be a magizoologist or a teacher, something good.” 

“Well,” Minerva said matter-of-factly. “I think it’s a safe bet he’ll be a Gryffindor and it will be my responsibility to help him figure out the rest.” 

Alice and Frank both smiled at this, looking adoringly at their brand new son. “There’s no one we’d trust more than you, Minerva,” Alice said. 

“Of course, it’s quite a lot of work,” Neville said, pulling Minerva from her reverie. “Lots of exams and training exercises, but the job’s not done yet, is it?” 

Minerva felt her eyebrows rise at this. “And which job might that be?” 

“The Death Eaters,” said Harry harshly. “We haven’t got them all yet.” 

“Some would say you’ve done quite enough,” Minerva said gently. “That you’ve earned a break.” 

Harry shook his head firmly, finally lifting his gaze from the floor to meet Minerva’s. “I don’t need a break.” 

He had always looked so much like James, but at that moment, the spark of determination in his green eyes reminded her unequivocally of Lily. 

The clouds had broken overnight. Thunder and lightning had rent the air; rain had pelted loudly upon the lead-lined windows of Hogwarts and another new life had been brought into the world. 

Minerva had waited until late afternoon to visit the Potter’s cottage, knowing that Black, Lupin and Pettigrew would be anxious to get there first and wanting to give the new family a small amount of breathing room. 

Her fist had barely left the door before it flew open, revealing James Potter. His hair was untidier than she had ever seen it and there was a look of wild joy on his eyes. He picked Minerva up and spun her into the cottage, laughing joyfully as he did so. 

“He’s perfect,” he said. “Looks just like me, he’s going to be a total heartbreaker!” 

“Put me down, Potter!” Minerva cried, trying to sound stern but unable to contain a light chuckle at his antics. 

“Come and see him!” James said, taking Minerva’s arm and pulling her up the stairs until they reached a nursery, painted sky blue and decorated with snitches and quaffles which fluttered around the walls. 

Lily sat in a rocking chair by the window, she looked just as exhausted as Alice had yesterday though it was hard to tell given how serenely she was gazing down at the baby in her arms. 

“We’ve named him Harry,” James said, his tone finally softening in the presence of his newborn son. 

“A lovely name,” Minerva said, leaning over Lily’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of unruly dark hair, so like James’. 

“He’s ever so well behaved,” Lily said proudly. “He’s slept most of the day so far.” 

“Don’t worry,” James added quickly. “I’ll teach him how to get into mischief before he gets to you, Minerva.” 

“That, I don’t doubt,” Minerva agreed. 

“He won’t,” Lilly said. “He’s going to be a good boy. No trouble for this little one.” 

Minerva and James exchanged sceptical looks, but neither dared argue with Lily who had a glint in her eye which Minerva had learned not to disagree with. 

“You’ll be so good, Harry,” Lily said solemnly, staring down at the baby and giving the impression she’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. “And so loved.” 

 That same glint shone in Harry’s eyes now, as he looked steadily at Minerva. 

“It looks as though the Aurors have gained two superb new additions,” Minerva said evenly. Though her heart felt heavy in her chest. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed not to have you back next year.” 

“You’ll see us around,” Neville said cheerfully, placing his cup back on the desk. “I’m sure Harry will be trailing after Ginny every weekend.” 

Neville jumped slightly as Harry swung out a foot and kicked him in the shin. 

Minerva placed her cup to her lips in order to hide her smile. “I will remind you that I have rules about non-students visiting the grounds, Mr Potter,” she said sternly.

“Of course, Professor,” Harry agreed, a flush working its way across his cheeks. 

Harry placed his empty cup on the desk and Neville stretched as he stood. “Best be off,” he said. “Early start in the morning, we just wanted to pop in and give you the news.” 

They both stood, quickly saying their goodbyes to Minerva as they moved towards the door. 

She took them in their new scarlet robes and wondered, not for the first time, if this was what Alice, Frank, Lily and James would've wanted. 

That they would've been proud of their sons, Minerva had no doubts whatsoever. That they would be pleased with the role she had played in their growing up, she could not be so sure. 

She had been the one to declare that she would make Harry an Auror if it was the last thing she did but, like so many things recently, this did not feel like victory. 

"Take care of yourselves," Minerva said as Neville reached for the doorknob. 

He turned back and grinned at her. Harry gave her a small smile too. "Don't we always?" Neville asked. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

[realcube]

hi bestie bokuto and saiki anon is back with another request,, idk what to call myself bc i love ur blog and love requesting random hcs to you bc i love your writing sm :( anyways i was wondering if you could do hcs where bokuto’s and saiki’s s/o just got acrylics and they try gently scraping their long nails they recently got against their scalp/thru hair and along their back? 🧍 ily

GIVING HIM A MASSAGE 

characters ♡ (multi-fandom) bokuto, sakusa, daichi & saiki k 

tw ♡ fluff, gn!reader, reader wears aryclics. mentions of death, timeskip! sakusa (suggestive) & mentions of spiders

a/n ♡ AAAA you came just in time!! i’m changing my tags :)) would you like to be 🔮lovely or 🦉lovely??? (crystal ball represents saiki and the owl is bokuto-) unless you have another emoji in mind!

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO had a deal with you; he’d pay for your nails in exchange for a massage and kisses. the kisses had been delivered already and he sat on the carpeted floor in front of the couch — where he’d usually sit while you massaged him so y’all could watch a show on the tv while you worked — with an expectant expression, making grabby hands at you as soon as you entered the living room. you cocked a brow, about to play dumb but you didn’t even get the chance as he began to chant, “relaxing time! show me what those pretty nails can do.” wow, couldn’t he be a little bit more stubborn? you sighed, approaching the couch and swinging your leg around his shoulder to take you usual seat behind him, “it’s not the nails, bo. it’s my fingers that do the work.” his lips parted to form a small ‘o’ shape as he fumbled with the remote to put on the show you guys have been watching, “really? maybe i should start paying for your nail removal, then. if i did, would you give me another mas--” “no.” bokuto let out a dramatic sigh of defeat, at least he tried. then, a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips as your fingers laced through his hair, pads of your fingers rubbing his scalp in such a way that made him hum in pleasure.. 

(minors dni) KIYOOMI SAKUSA was tense and refused to get a massage from a professional masseuse because he didn’t want to strip and have a stranger touch his body so intimately; the mere idea grossed him out. however, the knots in his back weren’t going to be fixed by even more over-exertion and poor posture, hence you took it upon yourself to help him.. after you got your nails done, of course. so as soon as he came back from practise and entered him bedroom, he was greeted by you standing next to your shared bed with an intimidating expression, “take off your clothes.” you commanded, gesturing to the bed. happily obliging, sakusa tossed his clothes into the laundry basket and was about to pull you into a heated kiss but immediately frowned when you swerved his advances and pushed him face-first onto the mattress. then, you began to run your cold fingers up his flushed back, rubbing deep circles into his skin which resulted in involuntary sighs of satisfaction escaping his lips. despite the fact this wasn’t the stress relief he was expecting, it was much better than he could imagined — it was as though he had ascended. however, he was so lost in the pleasing feeling of your cool nails tickling his skin, he hardly noticed how rough you were being and this was only brought to his attention the following day when atsumu’s nosy-ass inquired about the marks on sakusa’s back in the changing room, accompanied by a comment that made kiyoomi scowl. 

SAWAMURA DAICHI smiled as you showed him your nails with such enthusiasm, “they look beautiful, (y/n).” your experience at the nail bar was all you had been talking about since you arrived at his house — which was only like three minutes ago — and honestly, he wasn’t opposed, he loved hearing you talk so passionately about something.  he parted his lips to inquire about the price but before he could utter a single word, you stepped behind, kneading his broad shoulders with your palm which resulted in a shiver running down his spine, “what are you doing?” he chuckled, crouching slightly so he didn’t have to arch his back for you to reach. “tryin’ to give you a massage, does it feel alright?” you replied, chopping across his back with the side of your hand like the masseuses in movies do. “yeah.” there was no uncertainty in voice — that you could pick up on, at least — which brought a small smile to your face. your pointy nails dragged along his back, absentmindedly drawing letter and symbols that you thought daichi wouldn’t pick up on as he laxed expression and low murmurs of satisfaction suggested he was too engrossed in the feeling to notice, but you were proven wrong as you finished tracing ‘i ❤ u’ onto his skin. you were only snapped out of your thoughts when your boyfriend let out a hearty chuckle, “i love you too.”

KUSUO SAIKI was on defence. being a psychic who’s powers rivalled those of god, he never would’ve thought that he would be caught out by confidant — who was also his romantic partner — and a set of devilish claws. to think, he was originally foolish enough to think of them as pretty since they were complementing colors and nice shapes. plus, he had no reason to believe they were dangerous. until you began sneaking up behind them and using your nimble fingers to mimic the movement of an insect on his back. the first time you pranked him, he almost energy blasted you straight to hell. fortunately for him, you took the hint and felt extremely bad for taking advantage of his fears like that, offering to give him a massage as an apology. despite the fact he made it painfully apparent that he didn’t want to be near you until you got those wicked talons removed, here he was; sitting crossed-legged with his head rested between your thighs as you gently ran your hands through his hair, down his neck and across his shoulders. and the worst part was, he was actually enjoying it! the feeling of your finger working expertly at every knot in his neck and lifting what felt like the world’s weight of his shoulders left him helplessly melting into your touch. plus, his previous concerns about your hands in his hair were proven irrelevant as you make it a point to be extra careful around his clips. “thank you, (y/n).” he hummed, voice muffled slightly as his cheek was pressed against your thigh. “and sorry for almost killing you earlier.”

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

[crazyintheeast]

It took a lot of time but humanity finally manages to make it to the galactic community and at first we were welcomed. A new species is always interesting and out primitive technology was not that uncommon. There had been other species who come from resource poor sectors. If anything it was a badge of honor to make it across the stars when your sector lacks some of the vital resources that make space travel practical

But then everything changes when humans mentioned sleep .Nobody could understand what they meant. At first everybody thought that it was a translation error but soon it became clear that sleep was unknown throughout the whole galaxy. Every time the humans tried to explained it left every single other species baffled. Being immobile and helpless for almost a third of a cycle? Hallucinating? It made no sense. And when humans told them that almost every species on Earth also slept  Earth quickly became known as “The Planet Where Evolution Went Wrong”. Humans went from scrappy go-getters who made it to the stars  almost on pure will alone to the butt of every joke. “At least I am not human” became one of the common phrases in the universe

Still humanity didn’t give up. They wanted to be among the stars and tried their best and then some. But  nobody wanted to really work with humans. Often it wasn’t evne a prejudice thing but simply a practical matter. Why would anyone want workers who spent a third of a cycle immoboile and who’s health and sanity would break down if they didn’t get their “sleep” regularly”. So human became the cheap labour of galaxy. Working the worst jobs and accepting the worst possible conditions and pay because after all three humans  equaled about a normal worker and if humans were willing to work for 1/3 of the pay why not let them?

Nobody understood why humans were so desperate to belong in a society that was clearly not meant for them. It’s not like the Galactic Community would abandon Earth. Interstellar Society provided technology free of charge  to all worlds. Human could have  a safe happy live in their home with all the comfort and advantages of modern technology so why would they go through all this just to be in a society where they clearly have no place? Where they are at a constant disadvantage? Where they have to work the worst jobs just to exist? One of those jobs was on the Qyr’yiop transport freighter. It transported medical supplies to remote planets and colonies. Transport routes like this were always dangerous because they were juicy targets for pirates. And this was indeed the fate of the Qyr’iop today. Pirates had boarded them and had killed most of the crew already. Human had been sleeping in their tiny isolated quarters so they were overlooked in the initial attack  but they knew that it was only a matter of time until they were found. So they did the only thing they could do. Hijacked the navigation controls and did the one thing you NEVER ever do on a spaceships, steered it into a Dead Zone.  It was the first thing they taught you to avoid on any ship. Dead Zones were large sectors of the galaxy that had a dangerous radiation that made it impossible for anything sentient to pass through. Even a few seconds turned your mind into mush. It was a painful and horrible way to die and there was no defense against it.  Even the most heavily shielded military ships could last at most an hour in the Dead Zones. The only ships allowed inside were fully automated vessels but they tended to be highly unreliable.

So the humans thought that if they were going to die they might as well take the people who killed their friends with them and full burn right into the Dead Zone. A week later Galactic Space Patrol used an automated drone to retrieve the  stranded ship and give the crew a proper burial. When they open the doors they expected to see the dead crew , what they did not expect to see were humans jumping around in joy

“You found us! Thank you so much. The engine malfunctioned and we were dead in the water for a week now. We thought we would be goners for sure when we couldn’t repair the communication system”

“How are you alive!?? You have been in the Dead Zone for a week!” exclaimed the astounded Captain

“We have Whoa.. I thought we missed it!”

“I told you that those weird nightmares we had the first few days were not natural Jared! You never listen to me”

“What is a nightmare”? asked the baffled Captain

“Oh you know it’s this...how to describe it. It usually is a feeling of complete terror and panic and feeling you are helpless and in a horrible place”

“Yes that’s the first stage of Sentient Annihilation in the Dead Zones. It comes right before death. You should all be dead”

“No my dude that’s just a normal part of sleep”

And that day everything changed. Humans became the only species who could venture in the Dead Zones and even build colonies there. Humans became the most valuable resources in the Galaxy. Every species wanted a human representative who would claim part of the Dead Zones for them. Entire new travel routes all over the galaxy opened with the humans ability to easily get in and out of Dead Zones with merely a mild discomfort. And scientists from all over the Galaxy converged on Earth and tried to find out what sleep truly is and why all life on a planet had evolved a way to survive in Dead Zones.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Monstrous Morning Brews

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Halloween Lattes

Rowan keeps asking himself why he orders the same, overly-sweet, coffee every day when he prefers it black and bitter. Oh, the golden-haired barista—that’s why.

Fic inspired by the title image 👻🎃

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1838 words

*******

“Large pumpkin latte for Rowan!”

Rowan’s head snapped up as the barista’s voice rang out through the small café. He carefully finished setting down his laptop and books before striding towards the pickup counter.

Aelin was leaning onto the counter’s other side, her golden blonde hair pulled up in a precarious bun as she smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you,” he grabbed the drink and offered her a crooked smile of his own.

“I gave you a ghost this morning, what do you think?” she was grinning as he finally dragged his eyes from hers and looked at the image gracing the top of his coffee.

This was what the café was known for—well, what Aelin was known for, seeing as she was the one to pitch this particular menu item. Specialty designed latte art. Not that latte art was her idea, or new by any means, but Aelin was the one to suggest that the café start allowing customers the choice of images, letters, or patterns on their drinks, for an extra charge of course.

After the first few Instagram posts circulated of various designs, the café soon had long lines of people waiting to get their custom lattes. These days, with Autumn in full swing, many of the Halloween themed images were in high demand.

The first time Rowan visited the café it was only because he’d passed out the night before at his friend’s apartment and desperately needed caffeine before making his way home. This place wasn’t remotely close to either his house or to campus, but he found himself driving the longer commute just to see a certain barista.

He’d been struck by her golden hair and bright blue eyes the first time he’d come in and she’d barely been able to piece his order together because Rowan had somehow reverted to his flustered by a pretty girl teenage phase. Which was why when she’d asked what design he wanted on his latte (when had he ordered a latte?) all he’d managed to say was surprise me.

Watching her eyes light up and a wide grin spread across her face, Rowan decided he would let her choose his design whenever he ventured to the café and bought one of the special lattes.

‘Whenever’ then becoming every day.

But it wasn’t the artistic coffees that brought Rowan back day after day, it was the sharp-tongued, cheerful, stunning barista who smiled at him whenever he walked in. Aelin, who got excited whenever she could draw something new on his drink; who always tried striking up a conversation with him despite his multiple failed attempts at not looking foolish in front of her; who, today, had put a cute little ghost on the top of his coffee.

He chuckled at the little ghost that shook as he gripped the mug. “It’s boo-tiful”

Rowan froze, regretting his stupid pun before the words even finished spilling out of his mouth. What? Why in Hellas’ name would he make such a corny joke—

Aelin laughed and grinned wider but was cut off from replying as another customer approached the till.

Rowan hastily walked back to his table, careful not to disturb the intricate design atop his drink. As he glanced around the café, he was happy to note that besides his, there were only two other tables occupied.

He set the ghostly latte next to his computer and situated himself for the next few hours.

First, Rowan took out his earbuds and turned his study playlist to shuffle. He hated the loud, chatting crowds that sometimes overtook the café.

Next, he pulled out a few bags of snacks, some grapes and crackers. He wasn’t a fan of the overpriced too-sweet pastries on display.

Finally, Rowan looked at Aelin and watched as she ducked into the back and out of sight, before stealthily pulling out his thermos. It was filled with freshly brewed, hot, black coffee. Because he absolutely, without a doubt, hated pumpkin lattes.

***

As soon as the leaves had started changing, the café’s menu was overtaken by pumpkin, caramel, and cinnamon.

The rich aromas were comforting, especially as the weather got colder, but that also meant his already-unwanted latte was now overflowing with the sickly-sweet artificial pumpkin flavor. He knew Aelin loved it; he’d seen her make her own drinks while on shift to know she adored the pumpkin lattes and hot apple ciders.

Maybe that was why he still pretended to enjoy the monster-covered drinks.

In the last few weeks, Aelin had given him coffees with pumpkins, bones, and leaves, as well as more intricate designs like a wolf howling at a moon or a witch on a broomstick.

Rowan would buy a thousand sugar-filled lattes if it meant seeing her proud smile as she handed over his coffee.

Aelin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie as she walked over towards his table and swept some dust and old crumpled wrappers from the ground. “Not thirsty?”

Not for coffee. He shook off his immediate thought and fought the blush that rose as she tilted her head and waited for his answer. Gods, he hadn’t been this horrible with girls since high school.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what?” Smooth.

Her lips quirked to the side as she nodded at his latte which was as full as it’d been when he picked it up more than an hour ago. “Are you not thirsty?” Then her brow furrowed as she asked, “Or was something wrong with it? I could make you another one—”

“No!” His eyes flew wide as her brows flew up at his quick response. “Uh, I mean, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. I just, uh, I got distracted.” To prove his point, Rowan plucked up his mug and took a large sip. It took everything in him not to cringe at the sugary taste.

“Oh, okay,” Aelin smiled, apparently believing his role of latte-enthusiast. “Well, if you need anything else, just shout. I’ll be in the back.”

That’s when he noticed that he was the only customer left in the café. He smiled at her again and she paused.

“I just noticed you have dimples,” Aelin told him, grinning. “They’re cute.” Then she winked and walked behind the counter and through the back door.

Rowan sat frozen, blinking slowly at the spot Aelin had just been standing, trying to remember how to breathe. She noticed his dimples. He didn’t even know he had dimples. She thought they were cute.

His heart was beating hard in his chest and he couldn’t have repressed his broad grin even if he tried.

In an effort to calm himself down, Rowan reached into this bag and drew out his thermos to take a long drag of the bitter coffee. He’d just taken a second large gulp when the back door swung open and Aelin flounced into the main sitting area.

“Sorry, I forgot to grab the broom—” She halted three steps from him as her eyes darted between his face, the thermos of black coffee, and the barely-touched latte. “I—what?”

Rowan guiltily lowered the thermos to the table, swallowing the coffee as he met her accusatory glare with his own wide-eyed gaze. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed committing a felony, not drinking homemade coffee in Aelin’s café.

“I, uh, well,” he stammered.

Aelin merely crossed her arms and raised a single golden brown as she waited for him to say something. When it became clear that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—explain, she sighed.

“Rowan, is that coffee?”

“Yes.”

“You bring your own coffee to a coffee shop?”

“Yes.” He could’ve sworn she was fighting a smirk.

“Can I ask why you bring your own coffee to a coffeeshop? Especially when you buy a coffee every single day?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, surely red from his embarrassment, and winced. “Yeah, you can ask that.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, stepping towards his table to lean her hip against it. “Okay. Why do bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, when you buy a coffee every day?”

Rowan was tall enough that even while sitting he was able to easily look her in the eye as she stood at his table. Theoretically easy, yes; Actually easy, when he wasn’t sure his embarrassment would ever fade away, no. He rubbed a hand down his face and loosed a heavy sigh.

This was it, he had to come clean. She would find out he’d been lying to her and only buying lattes as an excuse to talk to her despite never having the balls to actually say anything in his favor, and she would call him creepy and ask that he never return. But she was staring at him expectantly, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that he had no defenses when it came to Aelin.

“Here’s the thing,” he began slowly, “I don’t actually like lattes.”

Aelin blinked. Twice. “But you get always get a specialty latte.”

He winced. “I do.”

She was silent for a minute and Rowan mentally kicked himself and was already preparing to pack up his stuff and leave when she tossed her head back and laughed.

Aelin laughed.

Rowan gaped as the girl he’d been hard-core crushing over laughed relentlessly at his confession. He couldn’t even be embarrassed or confused because he was too startled by how beautiful she looked when she laughed

“You,” she gasped through another laugh, “come in here every day and pay for a drink you hate—why?”

Rowan opened his mouth to give some lame excuse, but he stared at her as she calmed down and beamed at him, as if she already knew the answer and was just waiting for him to confirm it.

Drawing up a scrap of the bravado he’d lost every time he entered the café, Rowan cleared his throat and looked Aelin in the eyes as he told her, “Because it gives me a reason to talk to you, and you look so happy making those drinks.”

By the way her smile grew impossibly brighter, Rowan knew he’d said the right thing.

“That is endearingly stupid.”

His face fell but before he could utter another word, Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek. The soft kiss short-circuited Rowan’s brain and he remained sitting as Aelin quickly darted back behind the counter and started pushing buttons on one of the machines.

The next thing he knew, Aelin was back at his table with a large cup of fresh, black coffee. “Just so you know,” she grinned as he blinked up at her, “I liked making those drinks, but I liked the customer who ordered them more.” With one last wink, Aelin disappeared back behind the counter, the light scent of pumpkin following in her wake.

Rowan’s grin didn’t falter for the rest of day once he noticed ten scribbled digits and a small waving ghost on the side of his cup.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @themoonthestarsthesuriel @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111