#Notice anything different about our charming detective?

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Hercule Poirot ❤️

#David Suchet #Hercule Poirot #Poirot #Notice anything different about our charming detective? #Uahaha #O David fica ainda mais charmoso #de olhos verdes! #David seu lindo! #Seu perfeitinho pro Poirot! #AMOOOO!

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Shit, Dealt With

Okay, So I am back with the next chapter of Grumpy ADA and the Detective. It took a while but I did it.

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault, an anxiety attack, death, violence, drugging, kidnapping, swearing, leering creepy suspect. It isn’t explicit but is discussed more than it was in the previous chapters. I'd say it was universe typical.

Master list

Prompt List

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Tag List: @profoundtyrantharmony @wanniiieeee @zizzlekwum

Two weeks, that was how long this case had been going on. Two more bodies had turned up, all similar in age and body type. And all with the same type of injuries, the unsub was smart, there was no way to identify the bodies except hoping that their DNA or fingerprints were in the system or someone had reported them as missing and as they were all disposed of in bodies of water any traces of DNA were either washed away or so corrupted there was no chance of getting a match. You had managed to get a working profile of the Unsub but without any information on the three victims the profile wasn’t fully complete.

“Male, late 30s to early 40s, gay or at least bi,” you muttered staring at the crime scene images. “Probably attractive and charming enough to lure these men to them, with the specific location of the attacks there is a massive chance of internalised homophobia, but that could be on the victims side just as much as the Unsubs side. Definitely a sadist.”

“Is it a terrible thing that I am hoping for another body?” Amanda asked coming up beside you.

“I’m hoping for the same thing,” you answered turning to look at her. “But as of now, we have nothing to go on. Surely someone has missed our victims, there is no sign of them having been homeless. Their teeth were all in good condition, hair was looked after and treated, their bodies showed clear signs of steady meals and exercise.”

“Maybe they were all loners, who didn’t connect with many people?” she suggested. “Especially, if they didn’t always like who they were.”

“True, which is going to make this even harder,” you signed slumping in your chair. The only good thing to come from this case being difficult was you had no need to go the ADA for anything or for him to come here. At most the two of you shared strained polite smiles and boy did the room fill with tension.

Amanda nudged you when she noticed Rafael walking into the squad room making his way to Cragen’s office. Finn and Olivia were both off on lunch leaving you, Nick and Amanda as the only other detectives in the office. You subtly tracked him as he entered the Captains office and closed the door. Your chest squeezed at the sight of him, but it didn’t feel anything like what happened two weeks ago, it was a very different feeling.

“You okay?” Amanda asked stepping into your line of sight.

“Yeah, I will be,” you answered. “Um, would you tell the Cap-”

“Viper, could I see you for a moment?” Cragen interrupted you, motioning you to enter this office. You froze, body going a little cold, sending a wide eyed look to Amanda.

“You’ll be fine, just leave if you need to,” Amanda squeezed your arms, getting you moving. You nodded taking a deep breath and counting to ten before entering Cragen’s office.

Rafael was standing to the side near the observation window into the interview room, his shoulders were tense but that was before you had even entered so you figured it wasn’t necessarily because of your presence. You focused solely on Cragen who had a folder in his hand.

“You needed me?” you asked.

“Yes, it’s well, it involves a case that you worked on before you went undercover,” Cragen started. “Actually, it’s the case that caused you to need to go undercover.”

“Oh?” you felt your breathe freeze in your lungs, you crossed your arms and shifted from foot to foot unable to stay still as an anxious energy filled you. “What-what about it?” You could feel Rafael’s eyes on you, you didn’t even want to know what the look on his face was, you refused to look at him.

“Zac Cooper is demanding he speaks to an ADA about a deal to change his sentence,” Rafael answered for Cragen, bringing your attention to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” anger filled you as you turned to Rafael, disbelief clear as day on your face. “That son of a bitch hurt so many women, what could he possibly have to offer that would even make us consider lessening his sentence or anything else.” Rafael was not surprised by your reaction, he had read over the case notes and when he got to your reports and your testimony from the trial he was suddenly hit with guilt for how he responded to your apology and how he hadn’t made any effort to close the distance that was between the two of you.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Cragen brought your attention back to him, holding a hand up stalling Rafael from answering you. “I wanted you to go with Barba and speak with him.” The anger that was billowing inside, slowly simmered back down at the thought of being in the same room as that man.  You breathed deeply looking at Cragen.

“Me?”

“I know that this case was difficult for you but you know it best, you’ll have a better idea of the relevance of the information he has,” Cragen answered. “If he knows-”

“I get it,” you interrupted. “I’ll do it. Counsellor, when would you like to leave?”

“Now if possible,” Barba answered.

“I’ll grab my things, I’ll drive,” you looked back at Cragen, getting the nod to leave.

“A word Counsellor,” Cragen stopped Rafael from leaving. “This will be difficult for them. I ask that you keep an eye on them and if Viper looks like it is getting to much for them please remove them from the situation.”

“I’ve read the police reports and their testimony,” Rafael admitted. “I will keep my eye on them, but I doubt they will listen if I try to make them leave.”

“You’d be surprised,” Cragen smiled. “Viper isn’t necessarily scared of Zac Cooper but it is the closest I have seen. Perhaps, you could use the drive to put this tension in the past, and get to know them. I would rather like to no longer have to deal with the two of you. As would Olivia.”

“Noted,” Rafael nodded. He left the office noting that you were talking to Nick whose face was pinched and angry. He looked over your shoulder and glared at Rafael. “Detective, I shall wait at the elevator for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he overheard Nick imploring you. “Especially with him.”

Rafael shook his head once he was out of sight, he had noticed that Nick had been hovering around you anytime he had been at the station in the past two weeks. Even with as little interaction that the two of you had, he knew that you wouldn’t appreciate the hovering, you seemed like the type of person who appreciated people showing that they cared and were concerned but not overdoing it. Rafael leant against the wall, scrolling through his phone in an attempt to get the image of you from Cragen’s office out of his head. He had never seen you like that, it looked like you had frozen at the mention of Coopers name and the thought of having to see and speak with him. But when you had heard that he wanted a deal that fire was back, your face was so expressive that Rafael could see the rage but also the trepidation that you were feeling. He had to admire your dedication to the job that you were willing to accompany him to speak with Cooper, even though what Cragen said was correct, you had the best chance at knowing if Cooper was bullshitting.

“I’ll be fine Nick,” you said, a hard edge to your voice from his comments before Rafael had walked past. Implying that you needed someone else to be with you to handle Cooper. “I know what I am doing and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m so fragile.”

Nick raised his hands, face open and pleading but you wanted nothing to do with him at the moment. You were getting a little tired of Nick coddling you, he didn’t do it all the time but when he did it was almost too much. You knew you had kinda lost it in-front of him but if he truly wanted to help you he’d ask you how, not assume you needed your hand held or to be protected. You walked away, knowing you needed to be calm for the trip to were Zac Cooper was being held, and for your interaction with him. But most importantly you didn’t want to make the situation between you and Barba worse. You walked around the corner to see Rafael leaning against the wall next to the elevators, one hand in his pants pocket and the other tapping away at his phone. You faltered in your next step at the sight before shaking your head lightly and continuing towards him. He looked up hearing your footsteps, putting away his phone as he faced the elevator and hit the button.

“It’s a bit of a drive, have you had lunch yet?” you asked, voice a bit tense. Rafael glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noting the tension in your shoulders and your hands periodically clenching, fingers rubbing against your palm. He had noticed a similar motion just before you had testified on the stand during the O’Neil case, he found his eyes trailing back up your arm, scanning your neck noticing a small freckle just under your jaw. “Counsellor?”

“Not yet,” he quickly answered focusing away from you, ignoring the feeing in his chest. “Maybe we could get some quick take away and eat in the car?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Sandwiches? There’s a good place just down the road?” you both stepped into the elevator having to crowd a little close due to there being a few people in there already.

“Sandwiches are good,” Rafael felt extremely awkward being pressed so close to you. He wanted to try and talk about the tension but figured it might be better to do that in the car rather than a crowded elevator or perhaps it would be better to not do it at all. “I’ll buy.” You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, not realising how close the two of you were, the action bringing your cheek rather close to his lips.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whispered, a little red darkening your cheeks. You couldn’t turn your head back, eyes stuck on his, your gaze flickered down and noticed that his cheeks were tinged with red. His chin also showing signs of stubble, making you wonder if he hadn’t had time to shave that morning. A small part of your brain thinking about the way it would feel and you cut that train of thought right off.

“I know,” Rafael nodded. “But you’re driving.” Good, a distraction.

“And that equals to you buying lunch?” you raised an eyebrow a teasing lilt to your voice that Rafael had only heard when you talk to the others. It had never been directed at him before and frankly he didn’t quite know how to respond to it. You grinned when he didn’t answer before the doors opened. “Come on Counsellor, cars this way.” You walked towards your car, not looking back to see if he was following.

Rafael felt a smile slowly pull at his lips, he had noticed Viper’s cheeks had turned redder before they turned away. Maybe it wouldn’t be as difficult to work past the last few weeks of tensions and misunderstandings. Even if they could only become civil with no tension suffocating any room the two of them were in, would be progress. He continued to ignore the pleasant warmth that started in his stomach when they had been pressed close together, just as he had ignored every other odd feeling after seeing the detective and the splash of disappointment when they ignored him or left the building entirely when he had gone down to the station.

--

Rafael did end up paying for lunch refusing to take any cash from you or take your card, he chuckled when he got back in the car and you were pouting as you drove away.

“Do you want yours now?” he asked holding your sandwich in his hand.

“Ah, maybe wait till I’m out of the city, less likely to need both my hands on short notice,” you responded sending him a tight lip smile.

“Smart, wouldn’t want to crash,” he nodded. “Do you mind if I start?”

“Course not, go nuts,” you smiled voice lined with amusement. “Would you mind opening my drink though? Little thirsty.”

Rafael nodded twisting the lid of your lemonade off and handing it to you, replacing the lid after you handed it back. Rafael started eating, and he knew that he would have to go to that little deli more often, this sandwich was one of the best he had had in a while. He watched the traffic as you expertly got them out of the city and onto the road to the prison, your fingers tapping the steering wheel intermittently. He reached down into the bag pulling your sandwich out and undid the wrapper enough for you to be able to eat it without too much difficulty.

“Here, should be okay for you to eat now,” he suggested holding it out. “And you should eat something.” You looked over at him briefly, noticing a different look in his eyes from the other few times you had seen him. You sighed but nodded and took the sandwich.

“I’m guessing Cap and the case files gave you a little understanding of how much I do not want to be in the same room with Cooper,” you muttered taking a bite of food, hand on the wheel tightening its grip causing your knuckles to go white.

“A little, he did tell me to keep an eye on you and remove you from the room if it looks like it’s too much,” Rafael answered, deciding honesty was the way forward between the two of you.

“Hmm, that sounds like Cragen,” you nodded. “Though…rather honest of you to tell me that.

“Figured you would have some idea that Cragen told me to if I needed to remove you,” he shrugged. “So, why bother keeping quiet about it, makes no sense.”

“Fair enough,” you snorted taking another bite of your sandwich. You felt your stomach rebel against the food that was in your stomach and started trying to wrap it back up before two hands took it out of yours and wrapped it back up. “Thanks.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to make of this Rafael, the one that was nice, you figured this side of him was what Olivia mostly saw but you weren’t entirely sure why now of all times he decided to show you that side, unless it did make perfect sense cause he read the case files. You hoped that he wasn’t being nice to you just because of what he read, you didn’t think that was the kind of person he was but you weren’t sure. At least maybe this could be how the two of you become civil at least, you just weren’t sure how to respond to his kindness. Your skin tingled a little from where his fingers had brushed yours when he took your sandwich, and the close proximity in the car wasn’t helping whatever happened in the elevator to disappear. You had determinedly ignored how you reacted to his presence since the night you got drunk, you also refused to acknowledge whatever happened between you and Nick. Which definitely wasn’t helping with the whole Nick situation and his hovering either. You were never any good at that kind of thing and you hoped it would just pass and frizzle out.

“You ate more then I thought you would,” Rafael smiled handing your drink over to you without having to be asked. “Drink a little more might help.”

“Thanks,” you stook took small sips before handing it back. “Look…the thing with Cooper isn’t just because of what is in the case files but also what happened as a result of that case. That year undercover was…difficult and I’m worried that I will fall back on some habits I created during that time.”

Rafael blinked, a little surprised that you were being open about the issue, especially since it regarded the undercover job that everyone else had said you rarely talk about. But he remined himself that in your first meeting you had fallen back on one of those habits and he wondered if you wanted him to know a little bit more about that. Rafael bit his tongue holding back the snarky response he so desperately wanted to say but a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Olivia told him to hold it that progress was being made and until that progress had been finalised perhaps being snarky wasn’t the best idea.

“Olivia said you rarely talk about that time,” Rafael said instead. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like. What kind of habits?”

“Really, really bad ones,” you took a deep breath. “I was…an enforcer for a lack of better word. Meant to keep the women…girls in line and eventually some of the other enforcers as well. To get to that position took time and I had to show the boss that I was tough enough to handle men as well as the women, I couldn’t show that what was happening, what I was allowing to happen got to me. I had to become a cold hard bitch, who could intimidate anyone and who wasn’t afraid to dole out punishment. The FBI was aware of the lengths I would have to go and ensured me that I was covered. They were looking to take down a massive operation that was starting to look at going international big time, instead of just taking girls from other countries they were looking at having rings in other countries and taking girls from the US to those countries.”

Rafael was not expecting you to be that open with him, to hear your voice go dead as you talked about your role and why you had to create these bad habits you keep talking about. He felt dread swell in his stomach as you changed and he wondered if this was a glimpse of the person you had to become.

“Viper, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” Rafael’s voice had turned incedingly soft. You hadn’t ever heard him refer to you as Viper before and that jolt managed to bring you back.

“It’s fine, my psych said it would be good to allude to some of things I had to do to others, the only people outside of the team of FBI agents that knows anything about it is my psych and Olivia,” you told him risking a quick glance at him. “Not even Cragen, sure they can all at least guess but I have never point blank told them.”

“Why me?”

“Honestly? Probably because you don’t know me, and you didn’t know me before so you are the least likely to look at me differently and even if you did…it wouldn’t hurt as much as the others,” you explained. “Finn and Nick have done undercover work but…I don’t think….honestly Cassidy would probably understand better than them but I don’t really get along with him and he doesn’t like to talk about it either. Olivia doesn’t look at me differently, but honestly I think Liv is, well, she’s…”

“Liv,” Rafael offered.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I think I get it, well, mostly,” Rafael turned to look at you fully. “Can I ask how the case with Cooper led to your undercover job?”

“Cooper was a supplier to these guys,” you explained. “The FBI had been watching him but it dropped off after a while as they considered other suppliers to be more….important in taking down the operation. We had no idea about any of that, we had a girl brought in by an off duty nurse she had signs of serve abuse and markings on her wrists that indicated she had been chained. We got her to talk and she eventually gave us Coopers name and the name of the woman who was to take her to the boss.

‘We got the both of them and apparently she was going to be a new enforcer and no-one from the group had met her before. Apparently the enforcer was meant to bring a number of new girls with her and it was going to be a test to see how well the girls behaved when they were brought in. The enforcer was killed in the take down and the FBI came storming in and demanded to know what we thought we were doing, because of course they did. When we worked out that none of the girls had seen the enforcer the FBI decided it was an opportunity and I volunteered to do it.”

“So, Cooper might have more information on the group?” Rafael asked.

“Maybe but he was significantly low down on the totem pole, he was the one they went do for girls when they were desperate,” you explained fingers tapping faster against the steering wheel. “The only reason I can see him wanting to tell us something he held back before is because he heard about the take down and is worried that if any of them ended up in the same prison as him they’ll retaliate. Since technically he is the one who sent me there.”

You could feel your chest starting to tighten as you struggled to breath, your vision started to narrow down and you knew immediately it was another panic attack. You swiftly pulled off the road and killed the engine, your hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

“Viper?” Rafael’s voice was confused from the sudden action, he turned towards you, hands poised in the air, unsure if he was allowed to touch you, he recognised the signs of a panic attack, having aided Olivia through some before but he didn’t know if you would welcome his help all things considered.

“So-sorry,” you gasped out eyes tight as tears started to fall down your cheeks. “Give-give me a mo-moment.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” Rafael’s voice still had the same soft cadence that it had during your previous conversation. Seeing that you were still struggling to control your breathing he decided to through caution to the wind. You could yell at him later, which would be a significant improvement from this. He reached out slowly, his long fingers gently wrapping around your wrist closest to him, his other hand gently covering yours over the wheel. He eased your grip off and brought your hand towards himself, eyes never leaving your face.

 When Rafael first touched you, you thought he would tap out a rhythm like Liv had done to help you focus on something else, and to try and match your breathing to. But that wasn’t what he did. You felt your breathe stutter even more in your chest when he placed your hand over his chest, right above where his heart was beating. Covering your fingers with one of his hands, his other placed itself over the back of your hand and finally tapped his fingers in time with his heart beating under your hands. You slowly turned your head towards him, shocked by the softness of his eyes as they searched your face looking for signs of something.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Steady strong presses of his fingers forced your attention to his hands. Your eyes slowly moved away from his and focused where you could feel a steady beat. Rafael closely controlled his breathing, exaggerating as he pulled air into his lungs and held it for five seconds before releasing it. With your hand on his chest you could feel the raise and fall as he breathed, that combined with the tapping and the sound of Rafael’s breathing allowed your focus to zero in on him. And as your breathe slowly started to match his, as your vision slowly come back in focus and you felt the constriction on your lungs release you noticed a few other things. His scent, you had never been close enough to notice it before but the cologne he wore filled your nose as you breathed. It was a little bit spicy and under the cologne there was something distinctly him. All Rafael. And you couldn’t help but think how nice it was. How almost warm and welcoming the scent was as you came back. Your cheeks heated up even more, as your eyes lifted away from your hand and back up to his soft warm eyes, that were watching you in concern.

“Hey, there you are,” his voice soothed you. “How are you?”

“Better,” you nodded. “Um…thanks.” You tugged a little on the hand he still held oh so gently against his chest. He seemed to startle a little, his cheeks tinging pink a little as he let go. You except him to release your hand as if he had been burnt but instead he let it go and placed it back in your lap for you.

“Of course,” he smiled.

“I…I don’t normally, I mean,” you groaned rubbing your face to remove the left over tears. “I have only had on other attack like that and Liv helped me through it. She said I should keep an eye out for things that are similar when I have them.”

“If it would help, maybe we could discuss it,” Rafael suggested. “Try and see if anything was similar this time. What was happening when you had your first one?”

You opened your mouth before remembering exactly what had been happening when you had your first attack a few weeks ago. You bit your lip, looking over at him, and his earnest eyes. You felt like telling him could cause whatever had been happening on this drive to go backwards.

“Um, well, it was when I was at the squad room with the others, just before we got a call for the first victim of our current case,” you started fingers twisting around themselves. Rafael nodded about to say something before he stopped, thinking back to that day and realising that that was when Liv had come to him and talk about how he had reacted to your apology.

“Had Liv just told you about her conversation with me earlier that day?” he asked, gut clenching at the thought that he had caused you to have an attack. You couldn’t answer that, at least not with words, so you just nodded. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, you don’t have to apologise,” you interrupted. “Don’t think it was just that.”

“Oh?” Rafael didn’t know what else to say, his eyes searched your face the look in them caused you to look away quickly. Your hands scrubbed your face hard taking in a deep breathe. “Does it have something to do with Amaro?”

“What?!” your voice was a little shrill causing Rafael to snort before quickly covering it with a cough. “No, I, why would you? No!”

“Alright, alright,” Rafael laughed. “I just thought, he had been around you a lot in the last few weeks.”

“Hmm,” you couldn’t answer more than that, not wanting to think on it. You leaned back against the head rest closing your eyes and taking a deep breathe. “We should continue on.”

---

You  handed over your gun, hands trembling a little. Rafael, stood behind you watching you carefully, as you were both lead to the interview room. Rafael watched in fascination as you closed your eyes, taking long deep breathes, your fingers tapped against your thigh in what he thought was a random pattern. Taking one last breath you squared your shoulders, just as the guards led Cooper into the room.

“Well, well, Detective, you look good,” Cooper grinned looking you up and down which caused your stomach to squirm. Rafael felt his anger flare a little at the predatory look on Coopers face as he leered at you. He opened his mouth to get his attention away from you and to try and get this over with as quickly as possible.

“What’s this so called important information you have?” Rafael’s eyes shot back to you at the tone of your voice. Your face was blank, eyes cold with a simmering of anger in them.

“I want a deal,” Cooper demanded.

“That will depend on what you have to tell us and if it is useful,” Rafael stated, causing Cooper to focus on him. His eyes looked him up and down taking in the three piece suit, before they dragged away again dismissing him quickly, a cruel twist of his lips told Rafael exactly what this sick man thought of him. Cooper turned his back on them both walking around the table to the side facing the wall.  

“Aw, you must be the lawyer,” Cooper grinned taking a seat at the table, Rafael frowned. This man seemed to believe this to be a joke. “Well, before that. I want a transfer to a low security prison with protective detail.”

“You’re a violent sex trafficker low security is not going to happen,” Rafael scoffed, taking a seat opposite Cooper. “Protective detail can be arranged and we can consider a transfer to a different prison but it will not be low security.”

You had stayed standing but had moved closer to the table standing next to Rafael eyes zeroed in on Cooper watching his every move, muscles coiled and waiting in case he makes a wrong move. Rafael glanced up at you before focusing back on Cooper, he took out a writing pad and a pen.

“Come on lovely, you know I am not that violent,” Cooper cooed leaning forward on the table towards you.

“You cracked open a sixteen year old girls skull,” Viper stated. “I’d say that’s violent. And you’re stalling. I doubt you have anything of value to tell us.”

“I have information about the people in charge,” he pouted. “And you don’t think that’s value. Detective, shame on you.”

“Oh really?” you asked raising an eyebrow. “You were a trafficker that the ring went to when they were desperate. You were so low on the totem pole that the FBI deemed you unimportant.”

“Well, if you believe that that means the plan worked,” Cooper smirked leaning back in his chair, folding his arms.

“Plan?” Rafael asked, sharing a glance with you.

“Yeah, they knew the FBI were on to them and they wanted to make them believe I wasn’t important-”

“Bullshit,” you interrupted with a snort. “I was with that group for a year and all they did was insult and demean your name. You were a laughing stock.”

Cooper’s smirk fell and his eyes narrowed as he lent forward again staring you down. Rafael felt a tension in the air, he glanced behind him checking to ensure that there was still a guard somewhere close by.

“So you have nothing,” you snarled. “You are just a coward. Counsellor this was a waste of our time.”

Rafael stood up collecting his things as you moved around to his side stepping slightly in-front of him as he started to walk towards the cell door. He glanced back to see that you were walking backwards, keeping Cooper in your eyesight the entire time, as he had stood up from the table and had edged around the corner. Rafael motioned for the guard to open the door.

“We’re done,” he said.

“No we are not!” Cooper snarled taking a few steps forward. The guards quickly entered holding Cooper back and cuffing him again. “Listen you fuckers we are not done here! You will pay for this detective!”

“Not before you,” you smirked before walking away with Rafael. The shouted insults from Cooper grew quiet the further you got.

“Well, that was…” Rafael trailed off.

“Yep, sorry you had to make a wasted trip,” you muttered as you collected your gun.

“It happens,” Rafael shrugged, the two of you making your out of the prison to where the car was parked. “Do you think he really believed he had something?”

“I think he was hoping he could trick us into thinking it. He had no idea just how deep I gotten into that ring,” you sighed rubbing the back of your neck. “Part of me wishes he did have something but another part of me is glad he didn’t. That same part wishes that one of the members will be put in this prison with him. So he can feel even the smallest bit of fear. Fuck, I hate that I feel like that.” You leant against the side of the car, hands rubbing your face before running through your hair and pulling it lightly.

“You shouldn’t, he’s a horrible person but it shows the kind of person you are that you feel that way,” Rafael reached a hand out, hesitating only slightly before placing it on your arm and giving it a light squeeze. He felt the muscle under his hand and couldn’t help squeezing again without realising it. You lowered your hands, looking briefly at the hand that was still on your arm before following to the owner who was once again staring at you with those soft green eyes. The way he was looking at you made you feel warm, safe and…cared for.

“Thanks,” you smiled, cheeks once again heating. You were starting to get a little tired of that occurring around this man. Rafael smiled softly, squeezing your arm one last time before letting go, already you missed the warmth and the feel. You coughed a little pushing away from the car and standing up straight. “We should probably start heading back, let the Captain know there was nothing of value.”

Rafael nodded walking around the car, his hand that had been touching your arm flexed he could swear he felt a little tingle but shrugged it off. The smile was still on his face, although the reason for the trip up here was a waste of time he didn’t think the trip itself was a waste of time and he knew that Cragen would also see it that way. The tension between you two appeared to be gone and he just hoped it would stay that way.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t an entire waste of time,” he shrugged wanting to test the waters, and also to see if he could get that teasing lilt back.

“Hm, no I suppose not,” you agreed, a small cheeky grin on your face. “We didn’t kill each other on this trip, so the others will be disappointed. Except for maybe Liv, she definitely bet on us dealing with our shit.”

“Oh, she definitely did,” Rafael laughed. “Part of me wants to mess with them a little but I believe Liv may actually kill me if we did that.” You shot him a look as you pulled out onto the road, seeing the mischievous glint in his eye. You snorted, rolling your eyes and focusing back on the road as the traffic was a little busier than normal.

“I reckon we could take her,” you added after a few minutes of silence.

“We?” Rafael asked, eyes still watching your face, revelling in the banter. He was excited, banter was something he adored, a way in which he communicated often, and being able to do that with you after the weeks of issues the two of you had had him almost bouncing for joy. It was a similar feeling he got when the other detectives joined in on his banter but there was something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on when you turned to look at him, the cheeky grin now a smile. He felt his heart almost stop when you winked at him before looking away.

“Duh Barba,” you snarked. “Of course, you would be sacrificed for my survival but it would be a team effort.”

“Sacrificed?” Rafael barked.

“Hmm, I would proclaim my innocence. ‘No Liv, I had no idea he was going to pretend we still wanted to kill each other, I swear,’” your voice went up a notch.

“Very convincing,” Rafael drawled. “Liv wouldn’t buy it.”

“Yeah she would. Liv adores me and I am the picture of innocence,” you protested.

“Right, the picture of innocence who looks like they could kill someone with their finger,” Rafael teased.

“…Well, I never,” you pouted as a giggle bubbled in your chest.

“Amaro would probably save you anyway,” Rafael spoke without thinking. He bit his tongue hoping he hadn’t just pushed to far, he just remembered the way you reacted the last time Amaro was mentioned.

“Don’t need him saving me,” you scoffed, the teasing tone sounding more forced now.

“Can’t imagine you would,” Rafael agreed trying to salvage the moment. “You could run rings around him with your eyes closed.”

You didn’t respond to that but your smile was a little less forced then it was before and Rafael counted that as a win. He let the conversation drop, not one to force a topic to continue once it had reached it’s natural conclusion. The smirk on his face didn’t fall as the silence filled the car, it wasn’t awkward, wasn’t necessarily the type of comfortable he has with Liv but it was nice. It was a start.

#law and order svu imagines #Law and Order SVU #rafael barba #gender neutral reader #imagine #writing #gender neutral y/n #banter #rafael barba x reader #Captain Cragen #Soft Rafael Barba

[vermutandherring]

Oh Sheri, I missed you so much…

I can't believe that our meeting will take place so soon. It seems like just yesterday that I finished Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One, even though it was several years ago. For myself, I defined this game as a reward for the term paper, which I wrote despite depression and internal burnout. Yes, video games are a bad panacea for serious problems. But sometimes they can provide temporary incentives and force you to move forward despite the difficulties. I'm currently writing a lot of educational work, so I don't have much inspiration to write reviews. But I will definitely do a review on Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One, because it is one of those games that few people have heard of, that you come across by accident, but have a lot of fun.

'Oh, I love it when you act so recklessly. Was it Limoges porcelain?' Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One

A demo version of Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened is now available on Steam. You can go through a short investigation in the walls of a psychiatric clinic, behind the vaunted walls of which something is happening. I've never been a huge fan of Howard Lovecraft's work, which the game is inspired by. But I feel that I will still have to expand my horizons and get to know Lovecraft more before playing the game. Moreover, in fact, this game is not new at all. The original Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened was released in 2007, when I, due to my age, did not know about Lovecraft or Frogwares (the developers). As mentioned in the demo, this is currently a raw form, which will still be refined. This is immediately noticeable, as well as the fact that the game is very similar to the previous part in all its mechanics. Honestly, I don't see anything wrong with that. It cannot be that every released game is revolutionary. Sometimes we need simple stories that take their turn alongside the geniuses of the gaming industry.

Nevertheless, there are still differences. The first thing that catches your eye is the atmosphere. Against the background of what is happening in my country, I periodically want to return to the magical story of Chapter One, walk through the sunny streets of the Cordona, filled with the aroma of coffee, discover collectibles and costumes that I missed for various reasons. After all, just admire the charm of young Holmes, narcissistic and naive, who has yet to become the greatest detective. The Awakened, in turn, is very gloomy and depressing. At one point, walking through the corridors made of gray cobblestone, I caught flashbacks from my childhood, when I played Return to castle Wolfenstein. Maybe because Wolfenstein settled in my childhood imagination as something creepy, mysterious, enclosed in dark walls made of rough stone. The Awakened also has this air of mystery, but its occultism is still just a nice wrapper for a scary story made by human hands, not magic.

In this respect, the game is very similar to its literary inspiration. Reading The Hound of the Baskervilles many years ago, I really didn't want it all to turn into some sort of mystical delusion. I don't like when magic and the occult are used to explain plot holes, because it only increases the number of flaws in the story, and shows its creators as people with limited imagination. Ever since the announcement, I didn't really like the idea of adding an element of mysticism to the game. But now that I have a little more visual material, I'm looking forward to doing this investigation.

I don't like to talk about mechanics in games, because it's often a matter of taste. But in this case, it will be appropriate to talk about this aspect of the work. For the demonstration, the developers chose a very good part of the story, which will give you a full test of Sheri's mind and abilities. Passing it will be much easier if you have played the previous game or are familiar with it. In some of the reviews of Chapter One, I encountered criticism regarding the complexity and obscurity of the investigation system. I can't say for sure why some people can master it, and others can't add 2+2. So should I disappoint or please you - The Awakened uses the same mechanics as Chapter One. In a very short span, the game lets you experience it to its fullest. This amount of parts and mechanics to work out can make this short playthrough a little difficult. I had to run back and forth for a good half hour to understand what I should do to untangle the logical chain. I remembered something, I had to learn something again. But in general, after revealing all the secrets, I was satisfied with the game (and myself).

Yes, I just LOVE picking locks in games. It seems that this system looked different in the previous part of the series.

Even in this small piece, the developers left a reference to the previous part of the game, which combines the 2 games into a single story. Although I want to complain a little about Sheri. He's obviously a bit older in this piece (just look at his stubble in the trailers), but his character still feels just as youthful. Maybe it's because of the performance of the voice actor, who was also very nice to hear again. As I already said, not every game has to be brilliant down to the last detail. But each story has its own protagonist's path - a test that should change him. It is not felt at the moment. However, I don't want to judge a game when it's not yet fully released. So I look forward to the opportunity to investigate a new case.

I've also met a lot of complaints about Sherlock's appearance: too young, too emo, too sweet and not like himself. I don't understand this. Why do you want him to look like a 40-year-old balding man? His looks are one of the reasons I decided to play the game.

#videogames #video games #gaming #video game review #sherlock holmes #frogwares sherlock #frogwares holmes #detective #my articles

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Oh right, forgot about Melli, he was so easy to get out of the running lol. Although foxes being tricksters would probably work for the sisters. Maybe a fox and a coyote for Clover and Coin, both trickster animals that can be pests because they steal (livestock) from farmers, plus they're similar enough that they'd look nice flanking Charm, who gets to be different.

Damn, you're right about Akari and Rei... I feel like they should be animals who mirror each other, where one is considered bad but the other is good, but interchangeable depending on who is the player. Actually, cats might work here? A black cat for the protagonist, pretty much any other color for the other (although just to hurt Ingo we could make one black and the other pure white). I do really like the rat idea too, though that wouldn't work well to match with the player counterpart, since mice are hardly better conceived.

An esoteric carnivorous hare l m a o, I nearly died at that, thank you. I mean, there are plenty of herbivores that do eat other animals sometimes, so how should they know. I once watched a squirrel attack and eat a chipmunk, and let's be real, jackrabbits look way more capable of murder than a fox squirrel, so their confusion would be understandable. This is our newest warden, Ingo, he's a very rare carnivorous desert hare that fights like a kangaroo and we're very proud of him. I bet it doesn't help that a lot of his flee instincts have probably been deadened by whatever fucked him up in the rift, so people try to spook him and he either straight up doesn't notice or just turns and gives them a thousand yard stare.

Also, congrats on getting your cast off! I'm glad to hear that the surgery helped and you're doing better.

yeah like, melli is So Much A Peacock there were really no other options lol. ooh i like one being a fox and the other being a coyote! you're right, that would look nice visually.

hmm... maybe a black cat and a calico? since iirc calicos are considered very lucky in a lot of traditions. and i think they'd look nice standing next to each other and would complement each other nicely without destroying ingo. meanwhile cyllene is like, a snow leopard, or some other big cat mentoring these kittens in the Art of War. though i also made a joke a while back that laventon is a cat friend (sweet but impossible to herd) and i feel like it'd be weird for all of them to be felines, hmm. kamado is definitely a gray wolf though right like we're all in agreement here

HE'S THE KILLER RABBIT OF CAERBANNOG lmao. yeah i feel like he like, gets the regular signals from his extremely-wired-for-predator-detection senses, but his reaction to them is just a solid "meh, if i die that's how i was meant to go out" so he never actually moves. he does still look very twitchy to people who don't know him just like, based on the eyes and the way he stands, because that's jackrabbits for you, he just never does anything about it. i feel like intentionally spooking lagomorphs (and deer and really any prey prone to Running) is sort of a social faux pas though. not that that would stop some people from doing it anyway

(thanks!)

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #anthro legends arceus

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed. 

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce. 

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear? 

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.  

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”  

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it. 

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair. 

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.  

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want? 

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered. 

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled. 

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did. 

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.” 

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different. 

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long. 

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman. 

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better. 

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later. 

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help. 

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.  

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. ��You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois. 

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce. 

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out. 

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong. 

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed. 

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

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

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

#father of mine #father of mine part 2 #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batman x daughter #batman x daughter!reader #batboys #batfam #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne fic #batman fic #batman universe #batman family

[stormblessed95]

Hi Storm, just slipping an ask in before you close them. BTS are called humble kings and it seems to me some of it is likely cultural: expressing gratitude to fans, we’ll try harder etc. But they also flex: lots of lyrics about how they’re superior to their haters, Jin not shutting up about how handsome he is lol, JM not shy either about naming his charms, RM’s we’re already in the textbook, Suga’s pick up line (“Do you know BTS?) etc. This could all be just (1) complex humans with humble and proud moments (2) running gags (3) part of an idol persona (4) stating facts (no lies detected!). What do you think are some good examples of BTS’ humility? Is this unusual in the k-pop environment? (How) do you personally make sense of the humble and the brag? Thx

I think there is a big difference between being humble and knowing your worth. Those things can coexist as well too. Being humble doesn't mean not acknowledging your hard work or skills necessarily. It just means essentially not acting like being so big, so famous, so full of talent, makes you better than anyone else. Idk if that makes sense, but that's how I see it

Like for example, how they are constantly donating money to people, places, organizations who need it. And they NEVER do it for the recognition for it. It's done quietly. It's done specifically to give back to the world. It's not about them or what this act of kindness can do for them. It's being humble in the not expecting anything in return for their good fortune and doing things just because it's the right thing to do. Like the most recent example was when it came out that Jin used his prize money from the You Quiz show and donated all of it. That was almost a year ago at this point (March 2021) but we just found out like last week. It's not about press or looking good. It's just because they want to help others

Another example would be all the insane records they have been breaking. Topping charts for extended periods of time. Smashing hit over and over. And when asked about these accomplishments, the first thing that they do is talk about how the only thing they want is to be able to return the love they have been given to army. By working harder, celebrating with us, wanting to be able to perform for us to give us a gift in return and be together. For example:

We see how humble they are in just their interactions with people. They came from NOTHING and they never act like they are kings now that they have it all (even though they ARE kings now). Like for example, this delivery driver talking about how he wasn't even a BTS fan, but he delivered food to them as part of their job and how incredibly kind hearted, down to earth and caring people they are

Or like how Jimin stopped in the middle of the workout to give ARMY a full bow after getting the news of being on the BB # 1 Hot 100 again. How grateful, touched and moved he was that he expressed his gratitude towards his fans like that. In a way that was so meaningful and humble. It's this attitude that gives them that "humble kings" title. It moved everyone, it even made the front page of their newspaper, the whole country noticed how special that thank you was for sure. Or how he adds the # our armys got an award hashtag everytime they win. They know the fans are the ones who support them and got them to where they are and they never forget to acknowledge and cherish that

How everyone they meet, either other celebs or just regular people or ARMY talks about how kind they are, down to earth they are, special and sweet and considerate. And it the midst of how many celebrities view themselves are better than the "Normal folk" it is a great example of how they always stay humble. The way they treat their staff and backup dancers and their whole teams. It's always on equal footing and with care.

So I think when you asked is it ..., it's a little bit of all 4. People are complex, every coin has 2 sides. You can be proud and loud, while still being kind and humble. You can acknowledge your efforts and still be down to earth and never forget your roots. You can be humble, while not letting people step over you or make your efforts or talent "less than" too.

Is this unusual? Yes and no. Yes in the fact that BTS are so geniune with it. And it's just who they are. And part of that I'm sure is also their started from the bottom and now we are here underdog story too. They weren't given anything easily. And instead of letting that go to their head, they let it make them better people. But it's not something only they have. Just the other week BangChan from Stray Kidz said that BTS paved the way in reference to all the doors they have been opening for kpop. It was an incredibly sweet and humble thing to say. He is a star in his own right. It's nice seeing how they appreciate and look up to other groups though too. That BTS is that group people look up to now 💜💜 it's also that "we will work hard" statements and slogan almost is fairly common. The letting your work speak for you. Not bragging too much, etc. That's all definitely very cultural in kpop.

If anyone had reasons to have a superiority complex, it would be them. And they don't. Not even close. Which is why we call them our humble kings. At least that's my opinion! Thanks for the ask!! Sorry it took me a while to get to it 💜💜💜

#balancing humility and confidence is always a feat #and they do it so well

[themagicians-girl]

Sun Through The Houses

Sun in the 1st house: 

People notice these individuals because they are leaders and exude confidence. They are unapologetically themselves at all times regardless of where they are or who they are around. It is easy for these individuals to gain respect for this reason. On the other hand, others can envy this and display jealousy or hatred for them. You can often find people with their sun in the first house on the stage whether that be in a leadership position in the workplace, at a theater, or in front of a camera. These people shine and they do so, usually, gracefully. These individuals hold themselves in a proud and dignified way, and expect those around them to do the same. They put much emphasis on their appearance. This does not necessarily mean their looks but mostly how the carry themselves. They will never show up in a wrinkled shirt or with smelly breath. They must appear presentable at all times, because they are opportunists and they want to be ready for anything.   On the dark side, they must watch out for their egotistical and domineering tendencies. 

Sun in the 2nd house:

These individuals strive for pleasure and comfort. They like to own nice things - whatever that means for them individually. Because of the need for possession these people can become workaholics. They may work long hours or strive to be very financially set. Actually, when these people are struggling financially expect them to become severely depressed. They cannot fathom living paycheck to paycheck, its their biggest fear. When these people aren’t at work you can often find them at a restaurant or hanging out at home, which, by the way, their home will be their safe space and very comfortable. They may struggle to leave the home, or with moving in general. These people grow very attached to their home base. They may move out of their parents home older than most, or, if the childhood was chaotic, leave as quickly as possible to find the security they are craving. Sun in the 2nd house people enjoy food A LOT. Cooking them a nice meal is the way to their heart. They are usually good cooks themselves. On the dark side, be mindful of your materialistic nature. It’s okay to believe in things that aren’t only tangible. You don’t need to work 24/7. Money comes and goes. Embrace change, and remember that nothing in the universe is solely ours. Father may have put a lot of emphasis on career growing up, also may have been overbearing and put a lot of pressure on the child.

Sun in the 3rd house:

These people love to learn and travel. They live for it. They are the types to buy a rundown bus, throw a mattress in it, and travel the country. They don’t care for materialistic possessions, they just wish to seek endless knowledge. Actually, they need to be mentally stimulated at all times. Which may cause mental anxiety at times because they do not know how to slow down, rest, and recharge. These people may be good at trivia, because they know a little about everything. If aspects are positive, will have a solid relationship with siblings. You can find these people listening to podcasts, at the library, reading, or watching documentaries. Most likely the podcasts though, because they like to be on the move. Expect these people to travel often. If they don’t have the means to travel, they will immerse themselves in travel any other way they can via; movies, events, stories, friends, etc. Could be excellent teachers if they can develop patience, something they struggle with. Skills to develop: dig deeper into your passions, not just surface level. Stick with hobbies and projects longer, see them through. How many unfinished projects do you have right now? 

Sun in the 4th:

These people have an attachment to their family whether it be good or bad, its there and prevalent in their life. They are always pulled to the family, away or towards. If aspects were negative, they may have had an abusive father who stifled their growth or did not allow them to be who they truly wanted to be. If aspects were good, they probably have a very good relationship with the father. May really want children or at least, a solid family structure (family can mean anything). These people are nurturing, kind, and empathetic souls. They enjoy feeling embraced and cared for, and will make you feel the same. They are very proud of those they consider family and are protective of them. These individuals may work in settings where they serve others in one way or another. People trust them. Be mindful not to become possessive of those you hold closest to you, and if you’re struggling with the family, it’s okay to get help for that. 

Sun in the 5th: 

Some of the most creative people you will ever meet. They love the arts and creative adventures. They are most likely involved in art in some form, whether that be singing, modeling, painting, or photography. These individuals have what it takes to entice an audience, and they do all of the time. Many admirers. May struggle to chose a long term partner due to enjoying attention from many. Sun in the 5th house people have many friends and people will admire them. They are gregarious and full of life. They love to party and have a good time. They aren’t the type to spent much time alone. They’d prefer to be out adventuring or creating with others. Probably love children and children probably love them too. These people are very vocal, it’s hard to miss them. They may love makeup, and put a lot of effort into their looks. They can charm others. On the dark side, be weary of leading people on or being too full of yourself. Ask yourself, do you really like that person, or do you like the attention they are giving you? It’s okay to share the spotlight with others. You will find support when you give support.

Sun in the 6th:

These people throw themselves into work and serving others. They spent a majority of their time at work, and find it hard to take vacations or relax. May have an emphasis on nutrition or working out, may take those aspects of life too far and struggle with self-esteem. These individuals are often selfless and caring. They are excellent friends. They are practical rather than emotional in their approach to life. May have had a parent that was overbearing and expected them to be perfectionists which developed into anxiety and indecision in adulthood. Lack of trust for oneself. These people are good at tending to things. They are the type to find a stray animal and take it home and nurture it. They are fixers in all aspects of life. Should their chart have positive aspects to the sun, they will take good care of their physical and mental health and will inspire others to do the same. On the dark side, your career is not a personality trait. Develop skills and passions outside of work, or you will bore others crazy. It’s okay to relax and experience pleasure.

Sun in the 7th: 

Expect these people to have a close circle of people very dear to them. They strive for interpersonal relationships. It makes them feel whole. Other people, make them feel whole. Which can teeter on negative or positive, depending how much independence the person has acquired. Regardless, these individuals know how to make connections. They may have many acquaintances. They strive for balance and harmony in life. They may work in fields where they act as a mediator of some sorts, such as counseling. When the Sun is in the 7th house of one on one relationships, these people will struggle to distinguish themselves between their own self and others. They must work hard to maintain boundaries for themselves or they will run themselves too thin. These people are empathetic, caring, and selfless. They will be the most support friend and lover. They are excellent communicators and can make two of the worst enemies find an understanding. They are respected for their diplomacy. 

Sun in the 8th:

Regardless if the Sun is in an extroverted sign such as Leo or Gemini, people with 8th house Suns will appear quieter and more private. Much of their personality is hidden and they only show it to those they trust. These people may appear distant, without trying. They just feel hard to reach. These people enjoy what is hidden. They may have secret hobbies or passions. May have obsessive tendencies and struggle with depression. May live a double lifestyle. Dark humor. If aspects to the sun are negative, may have lost the father during childhood in someway. These people are excellent detectives. They love uncovering the mysteries around them, especially other peoples mysteries. You can’t hide anything from Sun in the 8th people, and if you do, they will feel betrayed and never trust you again. Trust is big for these people. May have few friends, but the friends they do have will last a lifetime. May dabble with the occult or darker aspects of life such as taboo, kink, witchcraft, etc. Dark sense of humor.

Sun in the 9th house:

These individuals put much emphasis on personal development. They want to endlessly search for knowledge and to become the best person they can be. They would prefer to be intelligent above anything else. These people make excellent teachers. They want to travel or live in foreign countries. Father may be of a  vastly different nationality to mother or was born elsewhere. These individuals are interested in history, law, philosophy, and language. May speak multiple languages. May have friends that live all over the world. These people are expansive and want to adventure the world. They feel they must in order to fulfill their life purpose. They need independence and freedom from others. They enjoy mentally stimulating conversations. If they can learn something new from you, they will respect you.

Sun in the 10th house:

Individuals with their sun in the 10th house are easy to spot. They will be in a position of power or will be in the spotlight somehow. They strive to be in the public eye. They are leaders and want to live a life of fame. They want to be known and respected. They usually deserve the roles they achieve because they are hard workers. They have much to teach others regarding chasing success and dreams. Very rarely will you meet a Sun in the 10th person that isn’t chasing a dream of some sort. These individuals need to have goals to work towards. Complacency is not their friend. When they aren’t being productive they may become depressed. A struggle for people with their Suns in the 10th is that, although they want admiration, they struggle to have meaningful relationships with others. Relationships may rely on business partnerships rather than a true bond. Don’t abuse your power or sell your soul in search of it. Fame is nothing compared to genuine care and love. Balance.

Sun in the 11th:

People with their Sun in the 11th house have booked schedules for months in advance. They are always attending events, workshops, or traveling. They are involved in many organizations whether that be community outreach, clubs, committees, or social circles. They want to be surrounded by people and community. These individuals bring friends together and can introduce many people to one another. They feel most whole when they belong to a group. You can expect them to have many acquaintances and friends. On the downside, their romantic relationships may struggle because they want to spend all of their free time with friends. Must achieve independence from their groups. May be great planners and organizers. Eccentric and unique people. May struggle to understand who they are apart from others. 

Sun in the 12th: 

These individuals are sensitive idealists. They love animals and taking care of vulnerable people, because they feel vulnerable them self. These people often get stuck in a daydream or fantasy world. They can struggle to ground themselves in the present moment because of this. Psychic intuition. Escapist tendencies due to feeling like the world is too harsh. Must work to develop thicker skin. Usually extremely creative and artistic because they hide away so often into their own world. May be quieter individuals or introverted. They enjoy one on one interactions or smaller groups to a big crowd. May have very vivid dreams. Can easily read others emotions. May be prone to wearing rose colored glasses. Father may have been aloof or not in the childs life. Be mindful of substance abuse or manipulating others when you feel threatened. 

As always, look at your chart as a whole.

Love,

Jaclyn

#sun in the 1st house #sun in the 12th house #sun in the 10th house #sun in the 9th house #sun in the 8th house #sun in the 2nd house #sun in the 4th house #sun in the 5th house #sun in the 6th house #sun in the 11th house #sun in the 3rd house #sun in the 7th house #astrology #westernastrology

[dccomicsimagines]

Spontaneous Valentine’s Date - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Requested by Anon -  can you do an imagine when Bruce and the reader go on a date to a Burger king etc and Bruce start eating the burger like in the comic and the reader be just like wat? #-#!!!!!

Requested by Anon - can you write one where Bruce Wayne changes up date night on Valentine’s Day?!! 

***

“Lois and I are taking it easy this year. We’re ordering in and enjoying quiet time together,” Clark said, walking into the meeting room with Barry. He adjusted his cape. Bruce was already seated at the meeting table. He rolled his eyes before focusing back on his paperwork.

Barry chuckled. “That’s nice. I’m planning on taking Iris on a surprise trip to Paris.” He took his seat, spinning in his chair. “I’ll scoop her up and run her there just in time for brunch in front of the Eiffel Tower.” 

“Sounds nice.” Clark sat down next to Bruce. “What about you, Bruce? You and (Y/N) have big plans this year?” 

Bruce grunted. “Plans for what?” His eyes stayed on his paperwork, but his mind raced to figure out what he missed. It had to be something everyone was celebrating? Did he forget your birthday again? Wait, not everyone would be celebrating that.

“Valentine’s day, B.” Barry spun in his chair, laughing in delight. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective. Of course, he didn’t forget.” Clark shook his head, crossing his arms. “I know what you’re planning, Bruce. You’ll take (Y/N) to that five star restaurant and buy them another piece of jewelry.” 

Bruce glared at Clark. “Why does it matter?” He cursed himself for forgetting Valentine’s Day again. Hopefully, Alfred remembered and made the reservations for him. 

“You do the same thing every year.” Clark chuckled, sharing a look with Barry. “Anytime you celebrate something, whether it’s a birthday, holiday, or anniversary, you take (Y/N) to the same restaurant and buy them jewelry.” 

“What is wrong with that?” Bruce tensed, defensive. “That what (Y/N) likes.” 

Barry snorted. “Doubt that.” Bruce turned his glare onto Barry. Barry flinched. “Come on, B. It wouldn’t kill you to change it up once and a while.” 

Bruce pursed his lips into a firm line. “Don’t you two have something better to do instead of being in here distracting me?” He looked back at the paperwork with a grunt. Barry and Clark took the hint, leaving the room and taking their conversation with them. Bruce relaxed only slightly. Was he boring you? Did he really always take you to the same restaurant? Throughout the rest of day, it nagged him in the back of his mind.

***

Bruce eyed Dick from the batcomputer chair as Dick flipped around on the uneven bars in the cave. The fourteen year old swung around with the skill of an Olympian. Bruce glanced at the batcomputer before looking back at Dick. Dick somersaulted off the uneven bar to land perfectly on the mat below. 

“Tat da!” Dick shouted, smiling brightly when he saw Bruce was watching. “What do you think, Bruce?” He picked up a towel and his water bottle.

“Good, but I don’t see why you need to show off. You don’t need to be that flamboyant in the field.” Bruce turned back to the batcomputer. 

Bouncy footsteps echoed throughout the cave as Dick came to Bruce’s side. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun from time to time.” Dick leaned against Bruce’s computer chair. “What’s wrong with you? You realize the computer is off, right?” 

Bruce blushed slightly. “Right.” He turned the computer on. “Dick, can I ask you something? Hero to sidekick confidentiality?”

Dick laughed. “Sure. Fire away.” He smirked down at Bruce, clearly enjoying himself.  

“Do...” He cleared his throat. “Do you think I’m boring (Y/N)?” Silence followed. Bruce bit his lip, glancing at Dick to find him trying to hold back laughter by pressing his hand over his mouth. “I’m being serious.” 

A little snicker escaped Dick. He swallowed it, pulling his hand away from his mouth. “No, I mean you’re just predictable, Bruce, but people like predictability most of the time.” 

“Most of the time.” Bruce frowned. “Do you think (Y/N) is one of those people?” 

Dick smiled. “(Y/N) loves you, Bruce. I think they’d be happy just spending time with you.” He turned to head upstairs to the manor. “But it wouldn’t hurt to surprise them. Do something unexpected.” 

Bruce hummed. He watched Dick go. “Unexpected.” The batcomputer binged with new messages. Bruce frowned, pushing aside his dilemma for work once again.

***

“I’ve made your reservations for tomorrow and Mr. Kato will be coming by your office with a selection of jewelry.” Alfred folded up Bruce’s cape. He wrinkled his nose at the sewer smell that oozed from it. Bruce had just gotten back from patrol. Unfortunately, Bruce had been forced to chase Killer Croc through the sewers all night.

Bruce paused after he peeled off the top of his suit. “Alfred, do you think I’m predictable?” 

Alfred clicked his tongue. “Master Bruce, you are as predictable as they come. How do you think I am always able to see to your needs so easily?” He took the top of Bruce’s suit with a sneer of disgust. “Of course, you do surprise me once and a while. This being a prime example.”

“Sorry, Alfred.” Bruce stepped out of his suit pants and went straight into the shower. “Is (Y/N) already in bed?” 

“Yes, Mx. (Y/N) retired in order to be well rested for the Wayne Enterprises meeting in the morning. They will be taking your place.” Alfred raised his voice to be heard over the shower. “What makes you ask if you are predictable, sir? You don’t often have such concerns about your character.” 

Bruce grunted, washing his hair. “I’ve been told that (Y/N) may not appreciate my predictability.” 

“From who? Mx. (Y/N) themselves?” The sink ran. Bruce assumed Alfred started soaking his suit. 

“Dick, Clark, Barry.” Bruce blushed, cursing himself for feeling self conscious about their comments. He reasoned it was only because he felt he would never be good enough for you. 

Alfred hummed. “Yes, well, Mx. (Y/N) will be happy with whatever you do, Master Bruce. Let me know if you want me to cancel anything.” 

Bruce sighed, peeking out of the shower at Alfred who was leaving the room. “Why can’t you just say I should change our plans?” he mumbled. “I know you want me to.” He put his face straight into the spray, deciding he would get one last opinion before he spent time figuring out what to do. 

***

He crawled into bed next to you. You mumbled in your sleep. He spooned into you, tucking you against him and burying his nose into the back of your neck. 

“How was Gotham?” You turned over to look him in the eye. 

“Better now that Killer Croc is back in Arkham.” Bruce sighed, touching his nose to yours. “Sorry, I woke you up.” 

“It’s okay. I like to know you’re safe and with me.” You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s after midnight, so Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bruce’s face fell slightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He returned your kiss halfheartedly.

“What’s wrong?” You noticed the change, pulling back to look at him. 

“Nothing.” Bruce bit his lip. He studied you, drinking in how accepting and perfect you were. How did you fall in love with him? He’d never figure it out, even if he was the world’s greatest detective. “If we did something different for Valentine’s Day this year, would you mind?”

Your eyes lit up. “Different? What did you have in mind?” 

Bruce’s heart sank. Your reaction proved he was in fact boring you. He was a failure as a husband clearly. “It’s a surprise.” He forced a smile on his face. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

You slammed your lips against his passionately. “I’ll be happy with anything, sweetheart.” You pulled him on top of you. Bruce groaned, quickly getting distracted. He’ll have to figure out what to do for you later.

***

Bruce slipped on the leather jacket you had gifted him that morning as he stood in the entry hall of the manor. “Are you seriously wearing jeans?” Dick asked, sliding down the railing of the stairs only to flip off and land in front of Bruce. 

“We’re going casual.” Bruce crossed his arms. 

“What’s the big plan?” Dick copied Bruce by crossing his arms. He smirked, letting his hair fall into his eyes. Bruce was taken back by how Dick had grown. It was like it was yesterday when he was nine years old and swinging off the chandelier. 

“I...I’m making it up as we go.” Bruce glanced up the stairs, looking for you. “So you have Wally West coming here and you two are going to...not go on patrol?” He narrowed his eyes when Dick flashed a charming smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to play video games. Alfred will make sure we don’t burn the manor down. Besides, (Y/N) would kill us.” Dick looked up the stairs when you came around the corner.

“That’s right.” You took Bruce’s breath away. Your clothes were causal, jeans with a nice shirt. “I don’t want you and Wally eating all the Valentines candy I let you buy and staying up all night. In bed by midnight.” You put your hands on Dick’s shoulders, kissing his forehead. “Listen to Alfred.” 

“Yes, (Y/N).” Dick blushed, pulling away. “Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked and ran off before Bruce could smack him in the back of the head. 

“He’s gotten bad.” Bruce grumbled, turning back to you. 

You played with the collar of his leather jacket. “Only learns from example.” Chuckling, you smirked up at Bruce. “I have to say I have good taste. This looks amazing on you.” 

“You’re stunning as always.” Bruce kissed you passionately, wrapping his arms around your waist. He loved you so much. His heart threatened to burst. 

Alfred cleared his throat from the front doorway. “Mr. and Mx. Wayne, I have the Dodge Charger out front and idling.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Bruce pulled away from you, nodding to Alfred. “We’ll be back some time tonight, Alfred. Don’t wait up.” 

“Of course, Master Bruce.” Alfred left the room with a satisfied smile on his lips.

“So Mr. Wayne, what is this surprise of yours?” You hooked your arm with his. “I have to say, I’m quite excited about it.” 

Bruce forced a smile on his face. “Just wait and see.” He led you out to the car, hoping an idea will come to him on the drive to Gotham.

***

“Ooo, so we’re going to the mall, Bruce?” You looked at him curiously. “Have you even been to a mall?” 

Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m sure I took you once.” He pulled into a parking space. “Didn’t you drag me here to buy something for Dick?” 

“I dragged you?” You laughed, eyes shining. “Bruce, I usually have to drag you everywhere.” You got out once Bruce turned off the car. “But this is a nice change of pace.” 

Bruce stayed in the car, silently sighing in relief. Thank goodness he happened to drive past the mall and decided to take a chance. You peeked back into the car at him. He looked at you with wide eyes. “I’m coming.” He quickly got out of the car, banging his head on the way out. You laughed.

“Now you’re acting like you did on our first date.” You leaned against the car, watching him from over the roof. “We were seventeen. Alfred just dropped us off at...”

“The library. I thought I was being original.” A small smile pulled at his lips. He blinked, flashing an image of you at seventeen when you were the loveliness person he ever saw. You still were. More beautiful if anyone asked him. 

“Very original.” You came around the car and kissed his cheek. “You were such a mess. Sweating, dropping books, tripping all over the place.” 

Bruce laughed. “Only with you. I’ve loved you then, and I love you now.” He took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. “Come on, let’s go.” He pulled you along toward the mall entrance.

***

You sat at one of the mall food court’s grubby tables. Alfred would have a heart attack and honestly you weren’t one hundred percent thrilled by it, but this was fun. Very fun. 

Bruce approached with a tray of burgers and fries. He seemed so out of his element. You enjoyed it. “Did you have trouble, dear?” You asked as he frowned at the table before carefully setting the tray down. 

“No.” He sank down onto the chair across from you. His eyebrow raised when he saw the smirk on your face. “What is that for?” 

“Bruce, did you really plan to bring me here?” You crossed your arms, resting your elbows on the table. 

“Yes.” He took a burger and unwrapped it. “I thought it would surprise you.” 

You glanced around the mall. “It certainly surprised me, but what brought this on?” 

Bruce unfolded a napkin and laid it on the table to make a barrier between his burger and the table. Your eyes widened as he opened a plastic set of silverware and started to cut his burger and eat it with his fork as if it were the finest steak in town. “I just thought we should do something different this year.”

“Seriously?” He looked up at you in surprise. “Come on, Bruce. You don’t have to do that here.” 

“What?” He frowned in confusion. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sweetheart, I know you think you need to do that to make Bruce Wayne a spoiled rich kid, but that is just ridiculous. You don’t eat a burger that way at home or when you and Dick do your late night fast food stops.” Just to show him, you unwrapped your own burger and took a big bite. 

Bruce stared at you. “Fine.” He dropped the silverware and picked up his own burger with his hands. “But if I spill on the leather coat you just gave me, it’s your fault.” 

“Worth it,” you said once you swallowed. “So you never answered my question, Mr. Wayne. What brought on this surprise?” 

Bruce cleared his throat, setting down his burger to take a drink. “It was made apparent to me that I was...boring you.” 

“Boring me?” You blinked at him. A rare blush came to his cheeks. “Bruce, how could you bore me? You’re the most interesting, handsome man I know.” 

“I didn’t realize we always went to the same restaurant and I kept giving you jewelry for every single special occasion.” Bruce shook his head, meeting your eye. “I let you down, (Y/N). You’re more special than just a habit.” 

You smiled. Your heart skipped a beat. Why did he have to be so wonderful? You stood up, leaning over the table to kiss his lips. “I love you, Bruce Wayne.” 

Bruce didn’t respond at first, surprised before he melted into you. Once you felt your skin burn, your body tingling with need, you pulled away. “Maybe we should head home early?” Bruce’s eyes danced eagerly. 

“We’ll have plenty of time when we get home. I want to enjoy your spontaneous Valentine’s Day while I can.” You winked at him before taking another bite of your burger and settling into your seat. “What’s your plan after this?” 

Bruce eyed his burger. “Well...” He glanced around. “We could walk around, see what catches our interests. I don’t know what’s here.” He looked back at you. You met his eye, falling more in love with him by the second. How could you fall more in love with the person you already loved? You guessed you were finding out.

***

“Are you sure Dick will want that?” Bruce asked, watching as you picked up a t-shirt in Dick’s size. 

“Yes, he’s a teen boy, Bruce.” You held up the shirt to show him. It was a Star Wars shirt with Chewbecca on it. “He loves Star Wars and since we’re here, we might as well.” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Punk rock music echoed in his ears as he and you stood in the crowded Hot Topic store. He couldn’t believe there could be so much crap in one place. “I would have never wore that as a teenager.” 

“No, but you were raised by Alfred.” You kissed his cheek. Bruce tensed when you got a playful smirk on your lips. “You know it is buy two get one free.”

“No.” Bruce held up a hand. “Don’t think about it.”

A pout crept onto your lips. Bruce’s heart melted at the sight. “Come on, Mr. Wayne.” You smiled innocently at him, but the sparkle in your eye told him you knew how to get him to bend. “This would be quite different from all the beautiful jewelry you have given me. I love it all really, but if you did want to be spontaneous and different this year...”

Bruce rolled his eyes. You were worse than Alfred. Passive aggressive all the way. “You got me, but nothing embarrassing for me if you want me to wear it.” 

“Of course, dear.” You kissed his cheek and turned back to the wall of t-shirts. Bruce’s mouth twitched, almost into a smile. He wished he would have noticed earlier, realized sooner that you would love to do something like this. A woman with several piercings came up to talk to you and you pointed at shirt on the top rack. Bruce shook his head at the sight, knowing he would love whatever you picked for him

***

“Honey, it’s okay if you can’t do it,” you whispered into Bruce’s ear as he lined up his shot. “I’ll be happy as long as you’re happy.”

“Well, I won’t be happy until I win you that bear.” Bruce narrowed his eyes before rolling the skee-ball down the lane. It bounced up and landed in the bull’s eye effortlessly. 

You laughed in delight, spurring Bruce on to roll his next three balls into the bull’s eye. The machine beeped, lights flashing and about thirty tickets popped out of it. “I was worried that you broke it.” You took the tickets, winking over at Bruce.

“It’s quite easy really. Once you calculate the amount of force and the speed the ball must go to reach the correct height, it’s simple.” Bruce unzipped his jacket, warm. He smiled when his eye caught caught the red of the AC/DC logo on his t-shirt. You had forced him to put on the t-shirt you bought right away. He had to admit that he liked it. 

You headed over to a racing game. “Race me?” You winked at him. Bruce nodded, eyes dropping to the shirt you brought for yourself. It pictured an old cartoon show you watched as a child. Bruce had no idea what it was, but loved how it looked on you.

He took the seat in the neighboring cabinet. A demo game played on the screen. “The physics in this game is concerning.” 

“It’s a video game, Bruce. It’s supposed to be exciting.” You scanned your player card into both machines. It turned on the car selection screen. “Ooo, look at this.” Bruce frowned, glancing over at your screen to see you were selecting the strangest version of the batmobile he had ever seen. 

“The car has never looked like that.” He blushed, glancing around. “Are those little batears sticking out the back?”

“Yep.” You selected it as your car. Bruce quickly turned back to his screen to chose a red corvette before the timer ended. 

The race started immediately. You laughed as you stepped on the gas. Bruce frowned when he saw the hideous batmobile zoom ahead of him. “No, you don’t.” He cut you off on the next turn.

You gasped. “That’s it, Mr. Wayne. Eat my dust.” You somehow activated thrusters on the horrid batmobile, crashing into Bruce to sent him flying through the air with ridiculous speed and height. His jaw dropped as his screen went black, resetting him on the track with you far ahead of him. 

“Stupid.” He shook his head, finding the button for his own thrusters. 

It was a dead heat, but you crossed the finish line seconds before him. “Yes!” You jumped up from your seat, hopping around in the circle. Bruce sighed, smirking as he watched you. You went to him, sitting in his lap. “Wasn’t that exciting? Maybe you should take some design ideas from this?” You kissed his lips sweetly. 

He snorted. “Maybe. Dick would get a kick out of it, that’s for sure.” He kissed you back before you hopped out of his lap to collect the tickets you earned for coming in first place. A rare laugh escaped from him as you grabbed his hand to drag him over to another game. 

***

Bruce held the bear under his arm along with a few shopping bags as he went around to open your car door. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” You got out of the car, kissing his cheek. “I had a wonderful time.” 

“Good. Maybe we’ll have to do this again sometime?” Bruce teased, acting like you both just went on your first date. You played along.

“Oh yes. Call me.” You pursed your lips with a glint in your eye. “Actually, would you mind carry my bags inside? I can maybe open a bottle of wine and slip into something more...comfortable.” You whispered the last word in his ear. You literally watched the shiver go up his spine.

“Yes, love.” He kissed your lips, leading you inside the manor. 

Alfred hurried out of the kitchen to meet the two of you in the entry. “Master Bruce, the signal is up.” 

Bruce’s shoulders sank. “Of course.” You smiled to hide your disappointment. “I have to go.” 

“I know.” You kissed his cheek. “Just know I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” You took the bags and the bear from him. 

Bruce smiled. “Good. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He sealed a passionate kiss to your lips, dipping you slightly. You buried your fingers in his hair before he righted you and left the room.

You panted, shaking your head with a smile. Alfred just eyed the bear you held. “Are Dick and Wally still awake?”

“Yes, the boys just finished their fourth pizza an hour ago.” Alfred rolled his eyes. “Mr. West certainly eats quite a bit.” 

“Well, he has to keep up with his metabolism.” You sighed and dug into one of your bags. “We got you some of the tea you like. There was a tea store at the mall.” You held out the box to him. Alfred’s eyes widened.

“Master Bruce took you to the mall?” He wrinkled his nose. “That was his plan?”

You laughed, delighted by the shock on Alfred’s face. “No, he was being spontaneous and we happened to drive by.” You adjusted the bags and the bear in your arms. “Are the boys still in the den? I think I’ll hang out with them for a bit, keep them from following Bruce into the city.”

“Of course, Mx. (Y/N).” Alfred smiled at the box of tea before following you into the den where you were met with Dick and Wally’s noisy chatter.

***

Bruce felt sick to his stomach as he climbed the stairs. He held back a yawn. The grandfather clock dinged loudly from the study. Four in the morning. Bruce sighed. You were probably asleep already. He hated that he missed the something comfortable you changed into.

The bedroom door was shut. Bruce paused outside, closing his eyes for a moment. He hoped you wouldn’t be upset with him. What was he supposed to do when Gordon told him about bodies disappearing from funeral homes only to reappear with missing limbs? In fact, he still hadn’t solved the case, but he had set up a trap for the body snatcher and it had to wait until tomorrow night.

Opening the door silently, his stomach dropped when he saw lit candles around the room. You were asleep on the bed in a beautiful, skimpy outfit. Your phone laid on your stomach and the blanket that was usually across the foot of the bed covered your waist. 

A groan came from deep in Bruce’s gut as he locked the door behind him. He crawled onto the bed, not bothering to undress. Pulling you against his chest, he worship your neck with kisses. 

“Bruce?” Your eyes fluttered as you yawned. A hand came around to rest on Bruce’s cheek. “You’re home.” 

“Finally, yes.” He moaned against your collarbone as his kisses moved downward. The taste of your skin drove him wild. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

“Yeah, it’s no longer Valentine’s Day.” You buried a hand in his hair, opening your eyes enough to watch him shower your body with kisses. “But who’s says we can’t let this be Valentine’s Eve?” 

Bruce chuckled against your skin. “That would have been the day before yesterday.” 

“Same thing.” You wrapped your legs around him when he crawled on top of you. “I love you, Bruce Wayne.” You looked him straight into the eye. Bruce felt the love and passion in your eyes shoot straight down to his abdomen. 

“I love you, (Y/N) Wayne.” He kissed your lips and the two of you finished one of the best Valentine’s Days either of you had ever had.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert #batman x reader #batman #batman imagine

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 20 - ao3 -

“Your brother has been acting strange,” Lan Yueheng said, his voice drifting in through the open door. 

He was crouched down in the dirt, happily gathering a small harvest from the plants he’d grown outside Lan Qiren’s window. Most of the materials he used for his alchemy experiments he obtained from the specialized fields in the Cloud Recesses, but there were some variants that the sect members in charge of those fields disfavored on account of certain pharmacological side effects associated with them. Lan Yueheng had prevailed on his friendship with Lan Qiren to beg, at some considerable length, that he be allowed to grow those variants in the area near Lan Qiren’s rooms – he’d argued that no one would ever think to check there on account of Lan Qiren’s rule-abiding reputation.

Lan Qiren had pointed out that there were no actual rules against growing those plants - they were only disfavored, not disallowed - thereby rendering the entire issue with people checking for it moot, but Lan Yueheng had insisted and eventually he’d yielded.

Let Lan Yueheng grow his nightmare plants wherever he liked. What did he care? He wasn’t using that patch of land for anything in particular, and it was nice to have a reason to see Lan Yueheng on a regular basis.

“Strange how?” Lan Qiren asked, finishing off the final stroke of a painting. He didn’t like it, but then again, he never liked any of the paintings he did for himself – they were too stiff and unfeeling, in his view, lacking spirit and movement no matter what he tried. His favorite painting was still the antique Wen Ruohan had left on his wall all that time ago, a lively little landscape with burnt edges suggesting that it had been hastily recovered from a fire at some point; he’d never replaced any of the things his sworn brother had gotten for him.

“I’m not sure how to describe it. Just strange,” Lan Yueheng said. “I don’t know how many people have noticed yet, him being pretty standoffish and above-it-all at the best of times, but it’s not the usual sort of thing for him.”

Lan Yueheng was like Lan Qiren; they were good at noticing patterns, however bad they were at figuring out the meanings behind it. If Lan Yueheng said it wasn’t normal, it probably wasn’t.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his forehead, suppressing the desire to go figure out the problem right away. “I don’t think I can help,” he said instead. “He doesn’t like to see me, remember?”

“He’s important to the sect,” Lan Yueheng said peaceably, and Lan Qiren loved him all over again for not saying he’s still your brother. “You might not like him, but you like the sect. So you have to help figure it out.”

Lan Qiren did not like it when Lan Yueheng was right about things. It gave him a strange itchy feeling of dissatisfaction.  

“Someone else could figure it out,” he argued. “He’s sect leader now, remember? His well-being is everyone’s responsibility.”

“But you’re the one who’s good at figuring out weird stuff.”

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren grumbled, but he still put away his things and went to see his brother – who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Any of the places he was supposed to be.

That was strange.

Lan Qiren’s brother was talented and powerful, skilled and meticulous; he was too proud of his status and accomplishments to shirk work. Whatever had drawn him away must have been very compelling indeed – or so Lan Qiren thought.

He wasn’t expecting, when he finally tracked down his brother through a tracker spell utilized on an old comb, to find him walking through the forest alongside a young woman, sword at his side as if he were night-hunting.

“I am night-hunting,” he said when Lan Qiren asked him. “I’m escorting Mistress He.”

Lan Qiren turned to look at the girl.

She smiled at him in a perfunctory sort of fashion. She was beautiful in a way that reminded Lan Qiren a little of Cangse Sanren, though her looks were very different – more refined and elegant, more delicate and less down-to-earth, thoroughly lacking the vaguely unsettling undertones so characteristic of Baoshan Sanren’s disciple, but no less lovely in her own way. 

“Qingheng-jun was just showing me the lay of the land,” she said coolly. “If you need him to return, of course, I won’t keep him.”

“There’s nothing else I need to do,” he said at once, which was such a blatant lie that Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped.

The girl glanced over at him and looked amused, saluting briefly: “He Kexin, a rogue cultivator,” she introduced herself. She shouldn’t have needed to; per etiquette, Lan Qiren’s brother should have introduced them, but he was clearly too far into his own world to care for such niceties. “And you are…?”

“Gusu Lan sect’s Lan Qiren,” Lan Qiren said on automatic, returning the salute. “I’m – his brother.”

“Oh?” she said. “In that case, you must have plenty to talk about. Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be much night-hunting here, so I’ll be leaving.”

Lan Qiren’s brother saluted deeply. “I hope to see you again soon, Mistress He.” His voice was gentler than Lan Qiren had ever heard it.

She waved a careless hand in half-hearted agreement as she went, but Lan Qiren’s brother stared after her departing figure until she was out of sight. Only when she was fully gone did he turn away, and when he did, he turned only in order to glare at Lan Qiren.

“Why did you interrupt us?” he asked, and his voice had gone back to its usual cold remove. “We were finally spending some time together alone, without those friends of hers crowding in and bothering us.”

Lan Qiren glanced in the direction that He Kexin had gone. “I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference,” he said hesitantly. “If you’re alone or with her friends, I mean. I don’t think – I don’t think that she likes you all that much.”

Lan Qiren had no natural social skills, not like his brother, who was charming enough to draw most people in despite or perhaps because of his cool and distant demeanor, but in sheer self-defense he had worked very hard to categorize and identify a variety of unspoken signals utilized by people in order to try to figure out logically what he couldn’t do intuitively. While he was still terrible at identifying indications of positive interest of any sort, as Cangse Sanren was always teasing him, he had gotten much better at detecting negative signs that indicated disinterest, indifference, or boredom.

“She likes me well enough,” his brother said, his tone oddly defensive. “She’s reserved, that’s all – you really can’t tell who she secretly likes or doesn’t. She’s a brilliant cultivator, sharp as a blade and clever as anything; it’s no wonder that she’s kind to others in equal measure as well…”

“But -”

“She makes me feel free,” his brother said, cutting him off. “She’s just - she’s smart and she’s talented and she’s fearless, unrestrained and untamed. There’s nothing weighing her down or holding her back. She bears no expectations and no pressure, and nothing has ever forced her, molded her development in this way or that; she lives her life just drifting on the breeze, complete untethered, and when I’m with her I feel the same, and I’ve never felt that way…”

He trailed off, eyes oddly dreamy, and then suddenly he seemed to come back to himself and remember to whom he was speaking. “Anyway, what do you know about women, Qiren? You’re as frigid as an icicle hanging in the window or a mountain lake in midwinter.”

Lan Qiren acknowledged the point, but he didn’t see its relevance. “If she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you,” he pointed out. “There’s nothing you can do about it –”

“Are you saying there’s nothing you actually wanted from me?” his brother interrupted, voice sharp now, almost angry. “Your presence is neither wanted nor needed here. Leave at once.”

“No, it’s just – you weren’t at the hanshi, and there’s work to be done.”

“So what? I’ll do it later.”

“You’re sect leader now. You have duties,” Lan Qiren said. “You can’t just go out night-hunting whenever you wish –”

“You said it yourself, I’m sect leader - me, and me alone!” his brother snapped. “From what I recall, that makes me the one who gives the orders, not you. Now get lost!”

Lan Qiren blinked, shocked at the fierceness of the rebuke, and watched as his brother strode away – in the direction He Kexin had gone, rather than back towards the Cloud Recesses.

This, he thought to himself, is a problem.

It was, too. His brother abandoned his duties more and more often, avid in his pursuit of He Kexin, who he had invited to stay for a while at the Cloud Recesses with the friends she was travelling with. She did, as he’d said, seem to like him well enough, but it seemed clear that her regard was far more cursory than his own - and not just to Lan Qiren, either.

Lan Qiren was roped in by the elders to help do some of the work his brother was neglecting, at first a little and then more. It got in the way of his own preparations, and started getting on his nerves, too.

“You don’t understand,” one of his teachers told him when he tried to resist the notion of spending a large chunk of his time on sect paperwork instead of practicing music. “Love, for our sect, is a powerful thing. When it comes unexpectedly, it is wild and irresistible, like a river bursting through a dam and overflowing its banks. It’s no surprise that your brother is so focused on winning his bride – and all for the best, too. He has to have heirs to inherit one day.”

Lan Qiren didn’t disagree with that, naturally. He certainly didn’t want to be stuck being his brother’s heir any longer than he had to. It was only…

“Just because he’s in love with her doesn’t mean she’s going to be his bride,” he said, and wondered a little spitefully why it was just assumed that he didn’t understand what it meant to love someone. Just because he didn’t feel it the same way as they did didn’t make his heart any less a Lan. “I don’t know why you’re all being so stubborn about this. A woman knows her own mind - just because he offers himself doesn’t mean she has to accept.”

“Stop saying such inauspicious things,” his teacher scolded. “You should be wishing your brother luck, instead.”

“He doesn’t need luck,” another teacher, the one for swordsmanship, put in. “He needs more of a backbone. Doesn’t she have a father he can talk to?”

That started up another debate on the relevance of the opinion of the young in setting their own marriages, an old classic, and Lan Qiren sighed and took his leave. He winced when he realized that his brother was not far away, standing with He Kexin in one of the nearby gardens – at his brother’s cultivation level, there was little chance he hadn’t heard the subject of their conversation, and indeed his glare indicated that he had. He Kexin wasn’t looking his way, but Lan Qiren suspected she might’ve heard some as well.

His suspicions were borne out the next day, much to his misfortune.

“Mistress He!” he exclaimed, groping around wildly for his clothing. He’d been humming his way through a new stanza while taking a bath, having taken a day off to wash his hair, only to turn around and see her standing there in the middle of his quarters. “What are you – I’m not dressed – these are my rooms!”

“I know,” she said, not moving.

Lan Qiren decided his dignity was more important than his health and reached out to yank his clothing into the bath with him, ignoring how they got heavy and soaked with water; he pulled on his inner robes and, once attired, he clambered out, rather annoyed. Just because He Kexin was a rogue cultivator didn’t excuse her from knowing manners, and just because she was his brother’s favorite, granted the freedom to wander wherever she would within the Cloud Recesses, didn’t give her the right to violate his privacy. “Mistress He –”

“You’re cute,” she said, and he stared at her, aghast. “Not quite as handsome as your brother, nowhere near as charming, and the way you drone on is rather annoying, but at least you have some respect for a woman’s wishes, and that face of yours isn’t bad. You’re not courting anyone at present, is that right?”

“I’m not,” he said, taken aback. “But what –”

“Good,” she said, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms, trying to kiss him. It was only through his quick reaction that he was able to turn his face away and avoid it.

“Mistress – Mistress He!”

“Keep your voice down,” she said, sounding amused even as she groped him in an intimate place. “It’s part of the plan, eventually, but it’d still be a pity for us to get caught before we get to the fun part.”

“I don’t – I’m not – I don’t want – let go of me!”

“Are you a virgin?” she laughed. “For shame, a man of your age. Just relax, you’ll like it soon enough –”

Lan Qiren’s brother had described He Kexin as a brilliant cultivator, and he’d been right; for all that she was a rogue cultivator, lacking the resources of a Great Sect, she was talented and promising, a powerful sword cultivator in her own right, and her grip on Lan Qiren’s body was relentless.

Lan Qiren tried first to get away from her without harming her, but she wouldn’t let go of him, pulling open his robes and even burying her teeth into his throat – that was the straw too far for him; he whistled a series of notes, short and sharp, the burst of qi shocking her grip loose, and then he threw her as far away from him as he could, knocking her into the opposite wall.

“Kexin!”

Lan Qiren turned: it was his brother rushing in through his door, falling down to his knees in front of her to examine her to make sure she wasn’t injured, and then turning to look at Lan Qiren, his eyes aflame with rage.

Lan Qiren glanced down at himself: robes askew and sopping wet, scratches on his chest and a bite on his neck.

“No,” he said, abruptly realizing how he must look, how they must look. Part of the plan, He Kexin had said; she must have known that her brother wouldn’t leave her alone for very long, and she’d clearly intended on using Lan Qiren as a means to get his brother to give up on his pursuit. Very few men would continue to chase a woman that spurned them for their own younger brother, especially one they didn’t much like. “It’s not – I didn’t –” Denial wasn’t going to help. “Do not succumb to rage!”

“Do not engage in debauchery,” his brother snapped back, rising to his feet. “Do not break faith!”

Lan Qiren took a step back, and then another. “Do not make assumptions about others.”

His brother wasn’t listening, though, and Lan Qiren found himself slammed against his own wall, held up and strangled by his own collar, his favorite painting falling to the ground from the force of it.

“How dare you,” his brother hissed, his eyes red. “How dare you touch her –”

“I didn’t! She was the one who –”

The next slam of Lan Qiren’s body against the wall jarred his teeth so hard that he bit his tongue to bleeding, and knocked his brain all around his skull. His brother was still talking, he thought, but he couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. It belatedly occurred to him that using the same excuse as every rapist in history – she was asking for it, she was the one who initiated, it was all her – was probably not a good idea, even if in his case it was actually true.

He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but his brother’s fist hit his stomach before he could speak, all the air knocking out of him.

“And then you – you hurt her –”

“Qingheng-jun, leave him be! It wasn’t him at all, you’re misunderstanding. I only wanted – ”

His brother threw him away, all his attention drawn away by his love, and Lan Qiren stumbled inelegantly on his way down, his feet slipping on the wet floor and tripping him up, and his head slammed hard against the corner of his bathtub as he fell down. As he sank to the floor, his vision going black, he thought blearily that the concussion he was undoubtedly going to have might even be worth it if only it meant that his brother would finally give up on his mad and hopeless pursuit of He Kexin already.

He did not.

#mdzs #lan qiren #qingheng-jun #he kexin #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #mind the ao3 tags

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,��� and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours.��

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

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[writingblock101]

Still Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

This is a part two to Insufferable! I had an anon request this a while back and found some prompts that gave some great inspiration! Hope y’all like it! You don’t need to read part one, but it does make the transition smoother. For reference, you and Damian are 17. 

Words: 2,800 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Warnings: None

“Do you ever follow directions?” A familiar, condescending voice asks you from the ground. 

You spot an annoyed Damian Wayne from your upside perch, staring up at you with crossed arms. You grin, a little too excited to see someone who looks so annoyed with you. 

“I’m creating an extensive target practice!” You claim, gesturing with your bow to the targets down range

“By hanging upside from the rafters?” Damian raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“You’re questioning my methods.” 

“I’m not questioning it,” Damian corrects. “I’m saying it’s stupid.” 

You gasp in mock offense then unhook your legs and flip to the floor. 

“Your words wound me!” 

“You’ll recover,” Damian says dryly. 

“I thought you would approve of me making a more comprehensive training.”

“You were hanging upside down from the rafters. How is that more comprehensive?” Damian questions.

“Because I don’t always get the pretty shot with the perfect set up in the field!” You argue. “Sometimes, I’m making the shot while hanging upside down with a broken toe!” 

Damian pauses, his eyes flickering to your feet. 

“Is your toe broken?” He asks.

He almost sounds concerned. It’s kind of sweet. 

“No,” You admit. “But what if it was?” 

He blinks. The concern is gone. 

“You spend too much time with Roy and Jason.” 

“Well, Roy is basically raising me at this point, so yeah, kind of,” You point out. 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Mission briefing.” 

“Aw, you came all the way here to tell me yourself,” You tease Damian, aware of the various intercoms around the Tower.

He scowls at you, but doesn’t dampen your good mood. 

“I was the closest to the range. It made the most sense for me to come tell you.” 

“No need to make excuses,” You shrug. “I get it, I’m amazing and you can’t resist being around me.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“You know, that line didn’t fool me when we were 12 and it’s still not fooling me now.” 

Damian’s scowl deepens. 

“Mission briefing, now.” Then he walks off before you can make another smart ass comment. 

Sometimes, Damian makes it too easy. You hit the switch to pull the targets back in, figuring you’ll get your arrows later. 

You’ve been an official Teen Titan for a few months now. After Roy talked you into tagging along with the team for a mission, you were hooked. The rest of the team agreed to extend an invite to you, which you happily accepted. You love the team, including Damian. Despite your constant bickering, you and Damian work well together in the field, enhancing each other’s skills. 

In all honesty, you really enjoy being around Damian. While he’s a bit uptight, when he relaxes, he’s fun to be around. You’ve enjoyed getting to see the more relaxed side of Damian. Besides, it's fun to have someone who keeps up with every sarcastic remark you make, even if it includes him calling you insufferable. It’s a bit of a long shot, but you know Damian likes you more than he makes it seem he does. 

You head to the main conference room of the tower and settle in for a long presentation. While the briefings are long, and rather boring, they’re in depth. You have to give Damian credit, even when things go wrong on missions, his extensive briefings prepare your team for almost every possibility and help make adaptations to the plan on the fly. 

You fiddle with a pen, unscrewing it, laying out the pieces then put it back together as Damian talks. As you get more fidgety the longer the meeting goes on, Damian wordlessly slides a new pen over to you with a slightly different composition. You smile at him and busy your hands with taking part the new pen. Damian’s cheeks darken slightly, but before anyone can notice, he’s back in leader mode. 

Damian pulls up the blueprint, running through everyone’s role and position for the mission.

“And Black Falcon, you’re with me, handling guards on the roof and additional security measures.”

“The dream team,” You grin with a wink.

Damian rolls his eyes and ignores your remark. Instead, he fields any questions then dismisses the team. You glance down at the file briefing in front of you then remember one last question for Damian. As a few Titans clear out, you wander to the front of the room where Damian is studying the blueprint from the presentation. 

“Hey, boss man,” You wave your file at him. “This building is using the Kingsley Security system. What are your thoughts about debuting the new hacking arrows?” 

Damian frowns, flipping to the page with the schematics concerning the security system. 

“How effective is the firewall on the arrows?” 

“If you’re worried about them tracking back to us, the arrows’ firewall should be strong enough to erase our trail.” 

“Should be?” Damian raised an eyebrow. 

“They’ll be fine, but I don’t like to make guarantees.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because sometimes, shit happens.” 

“I don’t like variables.” 

“Well, Dames, I’ve got bad news for you about how life works.” 

You cross your arms, leaning your hip against the table. 

“I don’t like variables on my missions when lives are on the line,” Damian says, scanning over the Kingsley credentials. 

“We’re connected to a computer with the highest level of security to currently exist. Even if they manage to trace back the arrows, they won’t get far.” 

Jon and Colin watch you two bicker about arrows and security.

“He likes having someone to argue with way too much,” Colin mutters to Jon. 

Jon nods along. 

“You’re telling me. He’s not going to do anything about it though.” 

Colin cracks a grin. 

“He’s just gonna roll his eyes and tell her she’s insufferable.” 

Jon and Colin snicker, catching Damian’s attention. He narrows his eyes at the two who sit innocently. 

“Listen,” You bring Damian’s attention back to you. “It’s your mission and I’ll respect whatever you want to do, but the only way for me to improve the arrows design is to test them.” 

“I’ll consider it,” Damian says. 

His phone lights up with notification on the table. Your eyes dart toward the light and your eyebrows go up. Damian catches your eye and snatches his phone off the table with red cheeks.

“Am I your lock screen?” You ask with a small grin. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Damian shoves his phone in his back pocket. 

“Really?” Your grin grows as your eyebrows move higher. 

Jon and Colin watch with shit eating grins. 

“Grayson set it,” Damian growls. “I haven’t bothered to change it.” 

“Sure, he did,” You nod. “It’s a cute picture.” 

The picture is after Damian and Bruce got into a huge argument, bad enough that Damian called Dick to get him out of the Manor. Dick figured it would be a good day to give Damian a childhood experience he missed out on and decided to take Damian to a theme park. Knowing you were in town with Jason while Roy was handling some business in Gotham, he talked Jason into bringing you. While at the park, Dick insisted you and Damian needed to try a funnel cake since neither of you had ever had one. 

You and Damian decided to split one since Dick warned you they were pretty sweet. When you and Damian tried your first bites, Damian’s face instantly scrunched up which made you laugh and Dick managed to catch the moment on camera. 

Damian scowls at you while you just grin. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone and ruin your reputation,” You laugh, leaving the room. 

Damian scowls at you as you leave and returns his attention to collecting his files. 

“Ah Dames, get that look off your face, we all know how you feel,” Jon teases. 

Damian turns, scowling at Jon. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t,” Colin rolls his eyes. “We can all tell you like Y/N.” 

“She’s--”

“Insufferable,” Jon finishes. “Yeah, we know. You know, just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it’s actually true.” 

“And you know, we get it, you’re a condensing, uptight dick--” Colin starts to rattle off. 

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me?” Damian scowls at Colin. 

“It saves time,” He grins at his friend. “But, despite those things, you can be charming when you want to be. And if you actually acted on that charm, Y/N would agree to a date with you.” 

Jon stares at Colin for a minute, looking unimpressed then turns to Damian. 

“My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.” 

“I didn’t ask for advice,” Damian growls. 

“We are aware and we also are aware that you never will,” Colin nods. 

“Why not let yourself be happy, Dames?” Jon asks. 

“I am happy,” Damian glares at the two of them then walks out of the room, tired of hearing their advice. 

“Think he’ll listen?” Colin asks. 

Jon shrugs. 

“Who knows.” 

. . . 

Your back hits the ground but you roll to the balls of your feet, breathing hard. You tighten your grip on your bo staff, ready to lunge for another hit when you notice Damian walk into the training room. As he walks toward you, you straighten up and grab your water, figuring it’s time for a break. Damian raises his eyebrows at your bo staff. 

“That’s not your normal choice in weapons,” He observes. 

You shrug, taking a swing of water and ignoring your cheeks heating up. While you wanted to expand your training, you’ve seen Damian using a bo staff a lot. He seems to like them so you figured you’d give them a shot. Besides, Tim has given you a few pointers. 

“Decided to try something new,” You say casually. 

Damian quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing else. 

“I’ve been thinking--” He starts. 

“A dangerous pastime,” You nod solemnly. 

Damian glares at you but continues, as if he didn’t hear your sarcastic comment. 

“We have a strong enough firewall on the computer in the Tower that if your arrows malfunctioned, we could detect and fight a security breach.” 

“So, I can bring them on the mission?” You finish. 

“Yes.” 

“Sweet!” You grin, pumping your fist. 

Damian rolls his eyes again at your celebration, but you can see him trying not to smile. He turns to leave, but you look back at the bo staff you were training with. 

“Wait! Damian!” You call. 

He turns, looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

“You’re better with a bo staff than I am,” You admit. “Wanna help me out?” 

Damian’s eyes flicker between you and the bo staff. You see a small smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“I’ll change into something more suiting for training.” 

You grin, spinning the staff around you then go into a mock solute. 

“Yes, commander.” 

Damian rolls his eyes again, but leaves to change. 

. . . 

You swing your staff up hard, but Damian blocks it and swipes at your legs with a low kick. Grinning as he falls into the expected move, you flip your staff around and hit Damian’s side. He grunts and moves again, this time, landing a hard blow to your arm. You grimace at the force, but swing your staff around again and manage to knock Damian’s legs out from under him with a move he showed you. 

Damian hits the ground hard with a grunt, but instead of rolling to his feet for another hit, he lays on the ground, looking a little dazed. 

“I got it!” You cheered as Damian sits up, watching you with a small smile. 

“Drive your hips more so the power doesn’t come from your arms as much,” He instructs. 

“You know, with all the archery I do,” You flex a muscular arm. “I’m pretty sure my arms are stronger than my hips at this point.” 

Damian rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. You swear you sees his eyes lingering on your flexed arm. 

“Basic anatomy,” He claims. 

“Right, your definition of “basic” and a normal person’s is pretty different.” 

Damian raises an eyebrow at you. 

“How do you mean?” 

You narrow your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I don’t,” But the slow start of a shit eating grin on his face tells you Damian knows how you meant that statement. 

You groan, throwing your hands up. 

“Okay, fine, Wayne. I’ll give it to you, you’re pretty smart.” 

“Am I now?” Damian full on grins, making your heart flutter. 

You roll your eyes again, despite your raised heart rate. 

“I’m not going to say it again.” 

“I didn’t think you would. It doesn’t change the truth.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Why do I still like you, knowing you’re a total asshole?” You question as you walk toward your water. 

Damian freezes for a moment, your words slowly mulling over in his head. Before he can say anything else, his watch beeps. Damian looks down at it with a scowl.

“Duty calls?” You ask, handing Damian his water. 

He looks up from the notification and nods. 

“Get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”

. . . 

Following your normal post mission tradition, you relax on the roof with a few boxes of take out. You dig into your box of fried rice, enjoying the view as your legs dangle over the edge of the huge tower. The roof access door opens and someone sits next to you but you don’t have to turn to see who. Wordlessly, you hold out Damian’s vegetarian Lo Mein which you took the courtesy to grab while he showered after the mission. 

“Your arrows worked,” Damian comments, accepting the box from you and digging in with his own chopsticks. 

“Mmhm,” You hum with a smirk. “Told you.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you wouldn’t be able to resist making a childish remark.” 

You grin, nudging Damian’s shoulder. 

“You knew I already knew the arrows worked. You just wanted to hear me say it.” 

“I absolutely did not.” 

“Sure you didn’t. I’m irresistible.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Damian corrects. 

“I still don’t believe that line.” 

“Your belief does not change the truth.” 

You laugh, leaning against Damian as you both continue eating, enjoying the view and each other’s company. After the first time Damian joined you on the roof, it became both of your traditions to enjoy your post mission meals together. Later, you would rejoin the team for game night or movie night, but for now, you two enjoy your quiet meals and unwind peacefully. 

Once your meals are finished and the boxes are discarded to the side, you scoot closer to Damian, resting your head on his shoulder. He slowly places a hand on your knee, seeming a bit uncertain. You smile to yourself and squeeze his arm, scooting a little closer to encourage him. He leans into you, seeming more relaxed by the affection. 

“You know,” You finally say after a few minutes of silently watching the sun set. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” 

“How much did you intend to like me?” Damian asks.

You feel him starting to go stiff. 

“Well, given you insulted me when I first met you,” You point out with a shrug. “I didn’t expect to like you very much.” 

“And now?” Damian asks hesitantly. 

You lift your head from Damian’s shoulder to look at him, your noses inches away.

“Now, you’re pretty alright,” You tease, admiring his pretty green eyes. 

Damian rolls his eyes with a small laugh. 

“Just alright?” He asks, squeezing your knee lightly. 

“Well,” You shrug again, feeling your heart pound. “Maybe a little more than alright.” 

You stare at each other for a long moment until Damian’s eyes flicker to your lips. Here goes nothing. Before you can bring yourself to regret, you close the small distance between each other and press your lips to his. He’s hesitant for a moment, stiff against you. Before you can pull away, Damian’s fingers sink into your hair, pulling you closer as he kisses you back. 

You melt into the kiss and grip his shirt tightly. As he shifts his head to deepen the kiss, a voice yells from behind you: 

“It’s about time!” 

You and Damian jump apart, still holding a hand on each other to see Jon standing by the roof access door. Damian scowls at him while Jon grins like he’s just won the lottery. 

“You have no idea how annoying it was so watch you two pretend like you don’t like each other,” Jon rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’re starting game night.” 

He disappears back through the door as you look back at Damian. 

“Well, duty calls,” You joke, sliding off the ledge. 

Damian turns, catches your wrist, and tugs you back to him.

“They can wait,” He mutters to you, kissing you again. 

You happily melt into the kiss, your hands on Damian’s chest as his hands slide to your hips. 

“Am I still insufferable?” You tease against Damian’s lips. 

He smirks, standing to his feet and pulling you close by your waist. 

“Yes,” He kisses you again. 

I’ve been writing things as I get inspiration. I think I’ll be compiling a prompt lists soon because I have some request... They are really big ideas and I don’t think I can take on any projects that big right now. I hope you enjoyed! 

#damian wayne #robin #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #teen titans #jon kent #jonathan kent #colin wilkes #super boy #abuse #yeah there are other teen titans #but not the cannon ones #fight me #i'm half borrowing one of my friend's cannon teams #its so much better than the constant deaging that the writers are doing with the current teen titans #starfire and bb should not still be teen titans with damian #why are any of them even listening to him #hes like 13 in the comics #batman #dc #roy and jason are mentioned for 2 seconds #same with tim #love all of them

[midnightsconspiracy]

Office Romance?

Office Romance? - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: It's Mouse’s first day in the 21st district. Jay introduces him to the whole team, except you who seems to always be out until you finally meet at Molly’s and completely hit it off

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2193

Requested: Nope but my requests are currently open

A/N: This is my first time writing for Mouse and the longest fic I’ve written, so hopefully everyone likes it! :)

Masterlist

It was Mouse’s first day in Intelligence, it was finally the day that he was going to turn his life around. No longer living in sketchy areas and gaining felonies but instead becoming a legit member of society and working for a reputable institution, the Chicago police department. He had been recommended to the boss by his friend and former military buddy Jay Halstead, who unlike himself, had managed to get a proper holding in society after being discharged from the Rangers. This was finally his chance to show Jay and everyone else who cares about him that he could do something else good with his life and that he was more than just his time in the military.

Meeting Jay outside the district, the two men embrace in a warm hug, briefing saying their hellos and reminiscing on old times before they ascended the stairs. They pasted Sergeant Platt, Jay giving her a small hello in which she ignored and Mouse, despite having only met her once, gave her a polite smile. Punching in the passcode alongside his handprint, he unlocked the door climbing the second set of stairs up to the place he would call ‘home’ for hopefully years to come. Reaching the top Jay paused, Mouse quick to follow his actions.

“Guys this is Mouse, Mouse this is the Unit. That’s Dawson, Lindsay, Olinsky, Atwater, Nadia, and Sergeant Voight’s in his office.” The people in the room all averted their gaze from their own individual work, with Voight even exiting his office to greet him as well, to greet the newest member of the team, all presenting him with a momentary smile, short greeting, or handshake.

“Oh and Y/LN and Ruzek are currently out chasing up a lead right now but should be back soon,” Jay quickly followed up, trying to familiarise his buddy up with as much as possible to make him as comfortable as he could, knowing mouse struggled with rejoining society.

“Ok-k, well it's good meeting everyone, and I hope I can be of assistance to you all,” he mumbled out nervously, he admired Jay and Voight for giving him this opportunity but it still didn’t stop the feelings that they had a level of superiority over him due to their jobs. Taking him downstairs to his own tech room, he prompted Mouse to take a look around to get accustomed to his surroundings.

“What do you think buddy?

“I think it will do the job just fine,” he smiled back to jay reassuring him that he could do this.

“Ok, well if you’re all good I’ve got work to do myself,” Jay announced before turning and leaving Mouse to his own devices, finally leaving him to prove himself worthy.

—————

Mouse’s day was hectic, to say the least. Members of the team were constantly in and out of the tech room or calling him, getting him to give them vital information as quickly as he possibly could. But he thrived in the conditions present, what previously was extreme anxiety when he first entered turned into adrenaline. He hadn’t experienced such a high-intensity situation since his time at the Rangers, but he loved it. The Rangers was the place he felt most at home and alive, but the ‘accident’ had caused him to be honourably discharged. He wanted to be back in Afghanistan with Jay and his other military buddies desperately, feeling as though he had a place there, that he was actually contributing something good to the world, but this would do for the time, this was the best thing for him right now.

From what he could figure out, the unit was dealing with a human trafficking case in which multiple girls were found dead by the Docks, thrown into a container, and starved to death. Pulling up the names of multiple different men, he stared into their eyes as the pictures came up on his screen and felt no remorse for them as he heard each man be dragged into the cage one by one. The team managed to successfully find lead after lead, deciding to either all roll out together or keep sending Ruzek and Y/LN out. It was already about halfway through the day and Mouse still had not met the said people, only occasionally hearing their voices or being told to send them the information he was finding.

—————

As the day further progressed things started to flatline, leads found previously being a bust and nobody seeming to find anything worthwhile. The whole team worked tireless upstairs as Mouse found them the material they needed downstairs. Finally, after an hour of absolutely nothing, Dawson managed to get vital information from a CI and so a feasible lead was afoot. As the others were gearing up and getting ready to finally make some arrests, Jay popped his head into Mouse’s tech cave.

“Mouse I need you to send me the information on Spencer Phillips ASAP,” he was just about to walk out when he turned his head slightly to utter a few final words to his friend,

“And good job buddy, we really appreciate it.” Mouse smiled as he looked up the information for Jay, maybe he was going something good for the world, especially if his dearest friend thought so.

—————

The lead had been successful and two arrests of notable people in a human trafficking ring were arrested. The case was not fully closed, the organisation still up and running, but the perpetrators of the murders were put away to never see a day in the sun again. That was enough for Voight to warrant the members of his team a break to go home, rest and in the younger detective's case visit the local bar, Molly’s. Coming back up to the main room Jay greeted Mouse, patting him on the back for a job well done, he had underestimated his friend, thinking that he may struggle with his job just as he had coped with his anxiety and PTSD after coming back from the Middle East. Walking further into the room Mouse finally got to see the infamous man who had manage to evade his line of sight for the whole working day, Adam Ruzek. Approaching him he finally got to introduce himself.

“Hi, it's nice to finally meet you”

“Yeah, you too Mouse, I feel like I’ve been swept off my feet the whole day, you coming to Molly’s”

“I wasn’t planning to but sure why not?” Mouse had a vague idea of what Molly’s was, Jay sometimes talking about the bar run by first responders, but he was excited to finally see it for himself. Turning to Jay, who was packing his stuff up at his desk, he assumed he would want to go to the bar alongside the rest of the team,

“Molly’s then?” He smirked knowing Jay would never turn him or drinking down,

“Of course.” Leaving the district together, the two guys headed in the direction of the bar relieved to finally get away from work and have some downtime. Unbeknown to them you were in the changing room with Kim chatting away, excited to go for a drink and ready to go upstairs to meet the new tech guy. Little did you know you would be very disappointed when you did so.

—————

Arriving at the bar the men settled into the unit's usual booth at the back of the bar, flagging down Hermann to get two beers so that they could finally unwind from a long day of stressful events.

“The rest of the team should be here shortly, but how was your first day buddy, tell me all,” Jay asked hoping that his friend liked the position so that he could work towards becoming an outstanding member of the community and chuffed that he was working alongside his best friend once more.

“It was good man, I don’t really know what else to say about it. Um..I finally felt as if I was doing something with myself, I felt that adrenaline I missed from the Rangers, but I miss it, the thrill, the relationships, everything really Jay.” Jay sighed not knowing what to say, annoyed at his friend for missing it, he had spent so long trying to pull Mouse out of that bad place, a constant cycle of anxiety, depression, and PTSD, that it hurt him that he wanted to go back. The tense situation was interrupted by the rest of the team arriving, taking up the rest of the room in the booth with Erin snuggling up to Jay and Adam getting up to buy a round for the table. All the usual suspects were there enjoying themselves, except one, you.

You had gone home to shower and get out of your work clothes before making your way to meet the rest of the team for some rest and relaxation, maybe nestling a few beers throughout the night. Making your way into the bar, you passed members of firehouse 51, making small talk with them before moving towards Hermann to get yourself an alcoholic beverage. Thanking him you turned to walk over to your unit's table, spotting an unfamiliar figure in the corner of the booth next to jay, which you could assume was the new tech guy Mouse.

“Christ Y/LN where have you been?” Your partner Adam boomed, already a little tipsy from the two beers he had consumed.

“Sorry I had to go home first, wanted to freshen up,” you smiled amused at how much of a lightweight Adam really was, despite claiming otherwise.

“Y/N this is Mouse, I don’t think you’ve met yet,” Jay interrupted you, drawing your attention away to introduce you to the nervous man beside him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you noticed how attractive he was, you had just presumed that Mouse would be less than average looking considering his measly nickname, but no, the man in front of you was undeniably handsome with a charming smile and deep blue eyes.

“Hi, it's nice to meet you, sorry I didn’t meet you earlier, seems like we were both at the wrong place at the wrong time,” you gave a shy smile, sitting down next to Kevin trying to look confident despite the nervousness you felt inside.

“I-its good to meet you to Y/N, seems like the universe is not in our favour huh?” He stuttered equally as nervous, for what you assumed was first-time jitters, but little did you know it was because he found you equally as attractive.

——————

Throughout the night you continued talking with all members of your unit but especially Mouse. You felt naturally drawn to him, not just because of your attraction but also the stories he told that fascinated you, some from his days in the rangers and other ones from his childhood. By the end of the night, you too had managed to move to sit next to each other, with the members of your unit seeing you hit it off immediately and so pushed you together hoping for another office romance. Completely enamoured by him, you didn’t even notice that the other people in the bar were starting to trickle out slowly and Hermann’s last order was thirty minutes ago. Finally noticing your surroundings after the bartender had called your name and told you it was closing time, you checked your watch noticing the late time. Turning to Mouse you smiled and softly spoke about the revelation,

“I didn’t even realise how late it was, maybe we should get out of here, wait wait! Not like that, well unless you want you.” Noticing what you had said, you shyly smiled hoping he wouldn’t think you were too weird.

“That sounds good,” he cheekily smirked moving out of the booth, allowing you to get out too and heading towards the doors of the bar, saying a brief goodnight to Hermann on your way out. You walked down the street together to where your cars were parked, going at a slow pace, trying to extend your time together for as long as possible. Locating your car you stood next to it as you went to say your goodbyes to the handsome man in front of you.

“Thank you for keeping me company tonight, I really enjoyed it”

“Yeah me too, but I was hoping we could do it again sometime, just you and me?” Completely taken aback you stuttered to think of your response, you weren’t not thrilled about it at all, just completely surprised that he liked you as you did him.

“I’d love to Mouse, give me your phone,” handing you his phone you put your number in, silently hoping he would be one of those guys that actually use your number instead of ignoring it completely. Proceeding to hand it back, you both stood in silence not knowing what to say. But in this situation, no words were needed, only actions. So when he leaned in to place his lips, you gladly reciprocated the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss. Little did you know this would lead to a lifetime of desire and devotion.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #greg gerwitz #greg gerwitz x reader #greg gerwitz imagines #greg mouse gerwitz

[bleulone]

Can we talk about about how Colin looked in ep 1 when he first saw Marina compared to how he looked when he saw Pen in ep 8. Almost the exact same look! Of course his look to Penelope is probably more about his guilt because he brushed her off when she tried to warn him but still..progress! Lol and then when he's getting ready to leave for Greece, he glanced towards Penelope's home. I think they're having Colin's feelings for her grow gradually in the show instead of all of a sudden like in the books.

Hey! Thank you for this insightful ask of yours :) Sorry for the late answer, I took a long time to write this— without further ado, here we go!

Indeed, Polin is first and foremost a story of gazes, those gazes being of many natures. Whether they are love ones, friendly ones, admirative ones or lustful ones, looking imposes itself to be a huge parameter in Penelope and Colin’s love story.

In order to understand that on screen, film-making has at its disposal a very rich and smart langage of its own. Sometimes, comparision helps to underlines the differences between one character’s relationship with person A mirorring person B. I feel like Shondaland and Chris Van Dussen wanted to introduce the audience to the evolution of our Bridgerton men’s perception of Love. For instance, while Anthony views attachement— to Siena— as a way to escape his responsibilities before becoming his villain (...until our queen ma’am Kate Sheffield comes to the picture), Benedict doesn’t comprehend this universal concept and prefers to enjoy the many physical pleasures life can offer. In other words, the older brothers already explored their sexuality here and there, making them the infamous rakes that they are. As for Colin, it’s a complete other thing.

Colin is young. Very young. At 21, he’s just left Eton College and barely knows anything of the world nor women. Like Anthony said in 1x06, Colin hasn’t been taken to brothels which is a very important step in the building of young men’s sentimental and sexual education during that time period. Since he missed this essential step, our sweet/immature boy has no clue about how to deal sagaciously with his feelings and his “foolish” impulses, baring his naivety. At this point of the story, we can easily come to the conclusion that Colin is a virgin who can’t drive XD. He’s just a child overcame by his passions, a hopelessly romantic who rushes things without taking the time to properly court or know his significant other. And his off-screen flirtation with those supposed numerous girls in London isn’t of any help to justify his (oh so little) experience. So when he sees Marina, he’s so struck by her... mainly by her alluring appearance. And he doesn’t seem to let his eyes nor mind go beyond her exquisite beauty.

In this perspective, the whole Colin/Marina storyline can be perceived as a parallelism to the Pen/Colin’s one. In 1x01, he is immediatley smitten with a dancing Miss Thompson, which happens to be ironically the same case with a 17 year-old Pen but with him. We got to see her, a few moments ago, dreamily looking at him from the back of the dancefloor (echoeing the episode where she fell madly in love with him after he fell off his horse at Hyde Park). She’s charmed by his dashing look and his kindness, yet she doesn’t seem to know anything else about him considering the rare conversations they share. Her burning gaze fits the original story from Julia Quinn’s books because in Romancing Mister Bridgerton, the 28 year-old spinster Penelope do realize later on that Colin is more than a good looking man : he’s a human who possesses a temper and flaws.

Either way, both of our boos are portrayed as hopelessly young people in love who childishly idealize the objects of their affection.

In 1x08, it’s the other way around. It’s Colin who sees Pen first, her who appears to wear the yellow dress’ lookalike from the pilot—what an interesting call back ^^. With his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide open, we can catch sight of the timid spark of a change in his gaze : Colin Bridgerton notices Penelope Featherington. He‘s touched by the realization that she cares about him. It would be rather inappropriate of me to say that Colin is already in love with her. However, in the finale, I do believe that he’s more struck by her high level of deep care for him than her beauty.

We are thus able to spot two big differences in Colin’s relationship with women in this season : when his attraction to Marina was purely physical and rushed, his attraction with Penelope is more emotional and slow. And for now, he comes to cherish his special bond with her, especially after she tried to warn him of the dangerous trap he was about to fall into. Even if he just sees her as his younger sister’s best friend right now, Pen matters in his life. And it’s still a little yet important progress for sure.

Speaking of which, I agree with you that this look of awe as well as realization is mostly mixed up with guilt. Since he didn’t take into account her words, he felt the strong need to apologize. But bear in mind that guilt formulates a considerable part in Colin’s feelings for Pen... and it’s only the very beginning. In the future, he’ll blame himself for not seeing her as the beautiful goddess and siren that she is in the first place. He’ll blame himself for not reciprocating the feelings for her.... Though at the moment, due to his lack of experience with women, Colin is oblivious to Pen’s obvious signs of sorrow when he told her he’s leaving for Greece/Cyprus. Next time, he’ll detect her sadness and won’t let her go, I’m sure of it (if he doesn’t I’ll riot).

Furthermore, I’m so glad you brought up the scene where Colin glances at the Featherington house. I had the same thought as well. When you put this still and the one where Pen is crying while looking at her window side by side, it even seems like they’re looking at each other. In a way, it implicitly confirms Pen’s key role in his final decision... After all, she’s the one who inadvertently inspired him right ?

The act of traveling has always been seen as cathartic since leaving home to discover yourself allows you to heal your broken heart and soul. It’s natural for Colin to do this. To make his first real steps into the world. His choice is quite relatable more than it is essential for his arc in the series. I can’t wait for him to come back all changed, hot ^^ and mature. I think, like you said, they are planning on making him progressively falling in love with her. Colin’s feelings will gradually leave the platonic zone to explore and officially stay in the intimate zone throughout the seasons.

Overall, the Colin/Marina and Colin/Penelope parallel in s1 mostly helps viewers to compare the way Colin evolves from being a stubborn naive boy to a heartbroken young man who’s aware of his crutial need for Experience. His coming of age, just like Pen’s, has just begun. And they will surely lead to our boy changing himself into the true charming rake that he’s meant to be and our girl into a more confident woman. Consequently, I think their story won’t take 10 years but rather at the very least 5 years perhaps to fit the TV timeline. Once Polin will finally be able to discuss, we’ll hopefully get to see more interesting nuances and shades added to the portrait they painted of one another over the years. They’re indispensable to the slow build up of their emotions/attraction as well as the shattering of their childish idealization/perception of each other.

All in all, I’m so loving the fact that season 1 beautifully sets up the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story. This first installment is like an expository scene of a play. It leaves a trail of clues and pieces of information here and there at the reach every viewers who can pick them up and analyze what can be the main themes which will determine one character’s story arc/romance. With Polin we have : admiration, wit, love and friendship, desillusionment. (I know they are more but it’s all I can think of rn lol).

If we’re already emotional messes just with the mere power of them looking at each other, imagine when they’ll actually talk and share real conversations. It’s going to be a long way to canon but luv me some good fluffy angsty steamy slow burn :) ✨ I hope this long of mine answers your ask ahah, even if I talked about many things other than just Polin’s looks. Also, sorry if you spot some grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.

#bleulone answers #anon #ask #meta and gush #polin #polin meta #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #julia quinn #romancing mister bridgerton #bridgerton #shondaland #chris van dusen

[malereader-inserts]

Something Worthwhile

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Mycroft Holmes & Brother!Reader & Sherlock Holmes Summary: It’s hard being a Holmes sometimes, especially when you’re alone Word Count: 1,470 Request: Holmes brother who is having difficulties fitting in with his two smart, intelligent and brilliant brothers. He feels left out and alone and ends up isolating himself further. Somehow John is the only one who notices this but Sherlock and Mycroft dont believe him because they dont think a Holmes brother is capable of such feelings so John has to properly lecture them on feelings and stuff and then they search for reader and help him out of the slums. Sorry if this is too long A/n: Y’all be linking brotherly holmes stuff.

“I could be greater.”

John looks at you, at the doorway, watching you stretch your back, moving boxes surrounding you. You get out a groan at the sweet release of stress leaving your tense muscle, clicking parts of your body as John just stares at you.

He came to visit, check up on you, you had been awfully quiet for a while and he got worried. What he had not expected to see you packing your belonging to move houses. 

“What?” He looks at you confused as you looked at him, a smile but it wasn’t comforting.

It was a smile of tiredness, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I could be greater, you know? Compared to Sherlock and Mycroft, I could be painfully greater.”

“You’re already great.”

“Are you sure? I can hardly keep up with Sherlock and Mycroft, one of them is one of the greatest detectives and the other one is working with the Government. And me?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “I’m not as great as them.”

“So, you’re moving?”

“Uh, isn’t that obvious?”

John looks around, you’re a lot human, easier to relate to as a Holmes. But, he understands to be the odd one out. He can’t fault you for feeling that. He asks you if you need help, you smile and shake your head, waving he off. John tells you that he’s off, if you ever need him he’s only a phone call away - you looked grateful for that.

After that, he doesn’t see you or hear from you. He goes to check your old apartment, it’s cleared out, empty almost as if it’s getting ready to get renovated. It was abandoned and the warmth you gave the house, was washed away. John doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve disappeared.

It worries John.

You hated your brothers, just as much as you love them. They were ahead of the game, ahead of life. They’re producing such brilliant works, but you were left behind. You were three steps ahead of the game but your brothers were nine steps ahead. You were walking with life, whilst your brothers are running past it. You could never be your brothers, and it was hard for you to understand that.

Your mother and father have had high expectations after both Mycroft and Sherlock being ahead of their classes, they expected you to be the same. But, you weren’t. You were top of the class, but that hardly meant anything to them. It got tiring to try to keep up with them.

So, you found yourself a place, across London, furthest away from Sherlock’s apartment. It was small but cosy, it was your safe space, plants everywhere, handing from the ceiling, all content in your loving presence. Your cat that lounges around the house currently draped over the back of the sofa. 

The living room was clashing with different colour, but you like that, it was vibrant, you don’t do dull things. If you’re going to take your time with life then you might as well think the world is in bright colours like an indie filter on Instagram. 

You have to romanticise your little life if it means to distract you from your brothers. That means thinking every time you cook, you have to believe you’re in a Studio Ghibli movie, where all the food looks mouth-watering.

You were happier, being away, isolating yourself away. 

It doesn’t settle well with John. 

So, when he had returned home from work and saw both Holmes brothers, he sat them down, his arms crossed over his chest looking angry at them. Though, to Sherlock that’s how John looks all the time. He gave them a good earful, even Mrs Hudson went upstairs to investigate what was happening. Even she gave her own opinion as well.

But, with both brothers, they took nothing in.

They look at them blankly.

“That’s not (Y/n),” Sherlock breaks the silence with a chuckle, a smile that could freak anyone out, but John was too pissed off with him that he wanted to punch it off.

“Yes, our brother is fine, but I do thank you for the concern,” Mycroft says politely as he flinches at John’s intense glare, “Anyway, (Y/n) doesn’t feel that, if he was, he would have told us.”

“Really?” John asked, scoffing, shaking his head with an unsettling chuckle that made both Holmes brother sit upright, “Why would he tell you what he’s feeling when you constantly dismissing him when he feels anything but confidence?”

“I-”

The brothers wanted to intervene, but this has ticked John off beyond belief. It had prompted him to rant to them that both brothers were afraid to interrupt because after all, John was making sense for once. For once, an average smart man was talking so intelligently that they felt like they were reduced to nothing.

“He tells you that his emotions have been overwhelming, you tell him to get over it. When he can barely get out of bed because he feels like the world is resting upon his shoulders you tell him to grow a thicker skin. When he cries, you tell him its a sign of weakness, he looks for his brothers for guidance but his brothers tell him to look for it himself.”

“John-”

“For God’s sake, he told me he was in therapy because he doesn’t want to tell you because you’d see him as a disappointment. He’s trying so hard and every achievement he does - it gets brushed under the rug. He thinks he has already disappointed your mother and father, God only knows what he’s thinking now to know that his brothers have abandoned him.”

“But, we haven’t,” Sherlock mutters out so softly, John could tell that he was ashamed in himself.

“I don’t even know where he is. He hasn’t been picking up my calls or replying to my messages, I don’t know where he moved.”

“He moved?” Mycroft asked, astounded, as John sighs.

John rubs his forehead, hand on his hip, looking exhausted and stress. Nodding sheepishly. John has been trying hard to locate you but London is a big city with various different apartments. He doesn’t know if you had moved far from your old place, he doesn’t have a brain like the Holmes, he couldn’t deduce where you intend to go.

“Yeah, so while to try to find him. Both of you are going to think of a good apology.”

“How are you so calm? He could have killed hi-”

“He told me that he wouldn’t do that because the thought of his cat thinking he had abandoned her hurts him more than ending it all.”

With a statement like that, the brothers wonder how bad they caused your pain.

Sherlock and Mycroft walk up to your apartment, the stairs were nice - both brothers noticed, you like that because you hated stairs, especially steep ones. They knocked on your door, hoping it was you on the other side.

They can hear your record player playing some songs, though with the door shut it was hard to tell what was playing. They knock again, before hearing your footsteps and the door opening.

“Why are you here?” You asked, your brothers hurt with no greeting and no smile to come along with it.

“John expressed his concerns,” Mycroft says, swallowing his pride, “It has made up realise that we have-”

“We have fucked up as brothers,” Sherlock completed.

“Charming,” Mycroft mutters bitterly.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” You were about to slam the door but Sherlock was strong enough to keep the door open with just the strength of his left arm, “Leave me alone.”

“No, we’re not leaving until we fix our mess. We’re brothers, our parents have given us hell and it’s not fair for you to go through their hell all by yourself,” Sherlock says firmly before eyes softening, “Please (Y/n).”

“You don’t have to talk, you can just listen,” Mycroft says as a compromise, to meet you in the middle, “We know that you’re not going to forgive us right away, but, we don’t want you to be alone again.”

You stand there in silence, before huffing out, opening the door wider and standing to the side. Your brothers entering your home; it smells a lot like you. You shut the door behind them, your cat seeing your brothers and instantly stretching and walk towards you. 

Jumping up in your arms, your cat stares his sharp glaring eyes towards your brothers as if he was warning them.

Your brothers seemed unsettled as they sit down, they’re not prepared for the talk ahead of them. They don’t expertise in the subject of feelings and relating to others, but if it means to keep you around longer.

It’s something worthwhile to do.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock BBC #sherlock imagine #sherlock bbc imagine #mycroft imagine #mycroft holmes imagine #sherlock and mycroft imagine #mycroft x male reader #sherlock x male reader #x male reader #platonic

[startanewdream]

I have this multichap WIP in the works for ages and now thanks to @sunshine-marauders' prompt ("Insecure James") I finally got around posting the first day!

Read on AO3 or below:

____________

Not a bad day

Chapter 1 - Not a bad game day

The moment the portrait closed and all sounds of the party vanished, James let the smile slip out of his face and his hands grabbed his hair nervously, fighting back a will to just tear them away.

Ten points.

In his first match as Quidditch captain, Gryffindor won by ten points.

It had never happened before in all twelve matches James had played; James remembered easy winnings, even in that match last year that he had to play as Seeker when Godfrey had broken his arm the night before the match, but back then they had a decent captain. Or two, because the Prewett twins were co-captains and they knew how to be a captain.

He’d thought he had done everything right. He had trained with the other chasers, making sure they worked as a team; he’d instructed the keeper in how to detect and avoid any tricks, sharing with him even James' secret manoeuvres. He’d practised with the two beaters, spent afternoon days with them with himself as their target and James had been to the Hospital Wing with two broken ribs, but he was certain the beaters could hit any target. And James had spent even more hours with the new seeker, developing all skills that were already there and making sure she was confident enough.

And then everything had crumbled in the first ten minutes of the match.

James had called for two time-outs and had talked to his team, bestowed upon them his best confident charm, but nothing seemed to work; and despite his words, he was equally lost. He didn’t know if he should try to redirect his team or make sure they had enough goals to not matter if they lost. If he wasn’t the captain, he would be scoring as many as possible — but everyone was looking at him in search of an answer he didn't have and the narrator was gladly commenting about every mistake Gryffindor was making and…

And a miracle had happened when Vance had caught the snitch, but James knew it had been more an accident than actual talent.

He hadn’t said anything about it though. His team — his carefully chosen and well-trained players — knew the match had been horrible and James didn’t have the spirit to let them down even more. So he had done his captain duty: he had praised everyone for whatever he could (‘That pass was amazing, Jones. You almost hit that bludger perfectly, Merryweather. Spectacular diversion of that bludger, Vance), and he had congratulated them for the victory.

None of the Gryffindors seemed to think anything was amiss. The victory party was raging when the team arrived — loud music and bottles of butterbeer all around. Sirius was drinking something that definitely wasn’t butterbeer and James had been tempted to lose himself too, but he had passed.

He had expected to drink to celebrate, not to drown away his misery.

After a while, he had just risen and left the Common Room quietly. With luck, his friends would just think he had left to celebrate with someone or had fallen drunk behind some couch.

The halls were quiet and empty, which James considered a small blessing. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any joke about his performance as captain or even worse, any compliment about it.

He just wanted to be left alone to brood, really, and to think how everything had gone so wrong.

He found an empty classroom to sit in, watching the sun shining over the surface of the lake. The good thing was that the game lasted only one hour — the bad side of it meant it was still early and the party would last until nightfall. He wondered if he could just hide there all day — probably not, James thought as his stomach rumbled. He just wanted that horrible miserable day to end.

James lasted another thirty minutes until he agreed that he needed something to eat. The only question was if he would rather risk going to the kitchen or back to the Common Room — if people started clapping his back again, James was sure he would just throw up. What he needed, really, was to go to Professor McGonagall and return the captain badge so she could pin it on anyone else — and then he would be free to do what he was good at, that was scoring goals without worries about what everyone else was doing.

The Common Room, James decided. From there he could just slip back to his bed and then pretend he was too drunk and just try to sleep. Anything to end that day, to pretend it had never happened at all.

He left the classroom absently, and he was closing the door when he heard a voice that made him jump.

‘Potter?’

His hand went to his hair, in a gesture that was more reflex than anything. There were a lot of reflexes that James couldn’t help whenever he heard her voice — such as that redness that came to his neck or the way his heart beat faster whenever Lily Evans was around.

Mostly the last one.

And especially when he turned around and his eyes found Lily Evans standing in the middle of the hall, watching him leaving the classroom. She was still dressed in Gryffindor colours: wearing the uniform lazily, the tie hanging undone around her neck over two open buttons of her shirt; her face was painted with two lines of red and gold in each cheek, and her red hair was combed in two braids that were lined with golden flecks. He felt he could stay there watching her forever.

Good Godric, she was beautiful.

James refrained from sighing.

‘Hi, Evans,' he said, and his voice did that melodious thing that always happened when he was near her.

James really wished he could talk to Lily Evans as if he was a normal human being, but his body was always full of reactions when it came to her, no matter how much he tried to control them.

He was trying to forget her after all. Evans had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him — which was becoming more evident now as she watched him with a sudden suspicious expression, her eyes narrowing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Going back to the Common Room?’ he answered, feeling a little unsure. There was something about Evans that always made him feel guilty as if she could find the worst faults in him.

Even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong such as now.

‘You left the party,' mumbled Evans, still sounding accusing as if he had no right to leave in the first place.

‘So did you,' James smirked, which he knew wouldn’t work with Evans but he had to try anyway. ‘What are you doing, Evans?’

‘Patrolling,' she answered easily, pointing to the prefect badge pinned on her robe, in the same place James had his captain badge pinned. ‘Which is why I get to ask what you were doing alone in an empty room — oh.' Evans looked away from him, an annoyed expression crossing her face. ‘You weren’t alone.'

‘What?’

‘No one is supposed to enter classrooms without permission, you know that, Potter,’ reprimanded Evans, ignoring him. ‘I will have to report it to Professor McGonagall.'

‘Ah, come on,' James complained, the unfairness of it making him grimace. ‘I can’t even brood alone without getting detention? Really?’

Evans blinked.

‘Alone? I thought — you left the party, and Vance too and — brooding?’ She paused, watching him with concern now, which James realized was even worse. On top of all his failures, he also didn’t need Evans’ pity. ‘What happened, Potter?’

‘Nothing.'

‘You look like someone stole the last piece of chocolate tart that you always pick up first at dinner — really, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory?’

‘Just let go, Evans,' he asked, turning away from her and walking down the hall. He could hear her rushed steps after him.

‘Potter —'

‘I am a crappy captain, is that what you wanted to hear?’ he cried, turning around to face Evans. He hadn’t noticed how close she was, but for once James didn’t let this thought distract him. ‘I had one job that was to keep the team working and I screwed it up.'

‘Butt —’ Evans looked really confused. ‘But Gryffindor won.'

‘By ten points. We needed a good margin of points to not depend on the result of other games and now we have to double our work —’

‘You still won,' she insisted, watching him closely and there was no pity or annoyance on her face now. ‘Winning by ten points is better than losing by ten and, be honest, even if you had won by a thousand points, would it have made a difference?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A victory by a giant margin — would you have relaxed your efforts with the team? Would you stop working so hard with Matt and Lucy? Or stop all those night meetings with Emmeline?’

James blinked slowly, not understanding what Evans meant by that. Of course he would keep trying to improve his team.

‘No.'

‘And if Gryffindor could lose by three hundred points and still win the Quidditch Cup — would you want the team to play poorly?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘So, Potter.' Evans crossed her arms like she had done a thousand times before at him but James didn’t think she was exasperated this time. ‘This one match doesn’t change anything. You still have work to do with your team.'

James shifted the weight from one foot to another, thinking. Evans was still watching him, her green eyes giving him the impression that she could see every thought unfolding in his mind; she didn’t look surprised when he nodded.

‘I guess the game wasn’t so bad. I mean, there is room for improvement, but now I saw everyone’s weakest points and I can work with that.'

‘Exactly, captain,' Evans said, and James dared to think there was a teasing note in her voice, one that he’d heard her sharing with others but never with him.

He fought very hard his desire to grin.

‘Ready to go back to the party?' she asked.

'Yeah. And you?'

He tried not to sound too hopeful. Considering Evans didn't look repulsed by his question, James thought he had been successful.

'It was a little boring,' Evans said, shrugging. 'I don't know, I expected it to be more fun.'

'It's because I wasn't there,' James teased, but this seemed the wrong thing to say. Evans took a step back, frowning; panic flooded him and he added hurriedly: 'I mean, who left Sirius in charge of the music? He grew up with classical music.'

Her expression softened.

'Maybe you could tap the radio to Muggle stations? Like you did last year?'

James fought to keep a neutral face. She had noticed he was the one that did it, then? He'd thought Evans was too mad at him back then — during all that party, James had tried to draw her attention, certain that him leading Gryffindor to the victory would make Evans want to go out with him, but she had refused to even glance in his direction.

But she had noticed his charm.

'I could,' he replied slowly. 'It is much better to dance.'

'Yeah,' she agreed and then Evans smiled at him.

She smiled. At him. On purpose. That warm glorious smile that had first attracted him years ago, long before he knew what it meant.

His heart was doing full acrobatics dancing steps inside him now.

'Are you going back too?' he asked, desperately willing himself to look normal, though his hand wanted very much to comb his hair — or touch her braids, he wasn't sure.

Evans bit her lip, looking down the corridor that led to the Astronomy Tower.

'It's Saturday,' James added as charmingly as he could, his voice again melodious and nice. 'Do you really need to be patrolling today?'

'Actually… no, I wasn't scheduled. It's just —'

'The party was lame, I know.' She looked back at him; it was difficult to concentrate under her gaze, but James had to try. 'But still better than patrolling empty halls, I’d say.

He tried that puppy look he always saw Remus using when he wanted something; at least it should be more efficient than his confident gaze that Evans never seemed to find amusing. But she took one look at his face and she averted her eyes quickly, looking suddenly flustered.

'Well, it wasn't my schedule anyway,' she agreed, walking next to him in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. 'And I could use a drink.'

'Sirius' version or the normal butterbeer?'

'What's in his version?' Evans asked, and James could hear the amusement in her voice as if she was already predicting his answer.

'Probably not butter, only beer — and worse.'

She let out a giggle. James pretended the sound did not fill his heart with hope and joy.

'I will stay out of his version then. I would like to remember this day tomorrow.'

James thought of sharing a smile and a decent conversation with Evans — she had noticed he always saved a chocolate tart for himself? Or that he had charmed the radio to play Muggle songs? And she was actually going back to the party because he had asked? — and decided he would like to remember that day too. It had not been that bad.

_________

#jily #jily fanfiction #sixth year jily is my guilty pleasure #not a bad day

[melzula]

The Throne

part two

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

summary: Sokka goes undercover and Katara and the Princess encounter an unlikely ally

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The royal square is bustling with activity as the water tribe gets ready for the new day. Merchants prepare their stands and the guards on night watch hand over their position to the morning relief, and everyone is simply much too busy to notice the three teenagers who sneak into the palace and past the guards towards Koa’s office. You lead the way, Sokka by your side while Katara keeps watch from the back, and all three of you are dressed in the exact same shade of blue that lines the inside of the palace. Koa’s office is just around the corner, and it’s with the motion of your hand that you stop your little troop and watch him emerge from the room. His eyes are shifty as always, gauging his surroundings as he locks the door shut, and it’s only when he’s completely out of sight that you rush out from the shadows.

“Sokka, the door,” you instruct, both you and Katara with water at the ready as you keep watch over the boy who gets to work on picking the lock. The transition period between the guards means there’s no one around to catch you, but you can never be too careful with these sorts of things.

Sokka is able to break in within a matter of seconds, allowing the three of you to hurry inside before shutting the door behind you. Koa’s office is neatly organized, so you should have no problem searching through his things for evidence; you take his desk, Katara looks through his shelves, and Sokka keeps an eye on the door in case anyone decides to make a surprise visit.

“You know, this is not how I pictured my first visit to the palace,” Sokka says with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sincerely, pulling your mask below your chin as you meet his eyes. “Trust me, I wish it didn’t have to be this way either, and I wish I didn’t have to bring you both into this but it’s the only way we can make things right. Koa doesn’t care about the tribe, he only cares about himself, and if my mother and I don’t get the throne back soon there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“I think I’ve got something,” Katara says, holding up what looks to be a journal.

“What’s it say?” Sokka asks as the two of you peer over her shoulders at the page.

“He’s got everything in here. Notes, check lists, calendars with important dates.”

“You know, for a villain Koa is super organized,” Sokka notes thoughtfully only for his sister to elbow him in the side.

“It looks like there’s a few pages missing from the book,” she says with a frown. “He must have known y/n would come snooping around eventually and taken out the important stuff.”

“But look here,” you say with a small gasp, “according to this he’s hosting a meeting with his supporters tonight in... the tunnel?!”

“You mean your secret tunnel with Zuko?"

“Yes! Oh, I can’t believe him!” You exclaim with disgust. “First my throne and now my secret tunnel?!”

“Don’t worry, Princess,” Sokka vows earnestly, “I’ll go to that meeting tonight and get down to the bottom of all of this. You and Katara keep snooping.”

“We might have to take a rain check on the snooping,” Katara says, “someone’s coming.”

The three of you are quick to scatter out of the office, Sokka going down one hall and you and Katara going down the other. There’s nothing you can do now other than wait for Sokka to come back with more information, and you hope to the spirits that things will turn out okay.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time Sokka’s had to play detective,” Katara consoles you, “we’re going to get that dirt on Koa.”

“For the sake of the Southern Water Tribe, I hope you’re right.”

~~~

Choruses of laughter and lively chatter drift through the tunnel as Sokka approaches the entryway with a confident though causal gait and a charming smile, but this demeanor isn’t enough to get him past the guards who immediately block his path the moment he steps towards the entrance.

“State your business,” the taller of the two says.

“This is the secret anti-Princess meeting, right?” Sokka asks. “I too would like to participate in the slandering of y/n.”

“Aren’t you a friend of the Princess?” The other guard questions, his gaze narrowing suspiciously at the obviously nervous Sokka.

“A friend? Pft! Yeah, right! If by friend you mean enemy!” He scoffs a little too dramatically. “She thinks she’s so great with her... big crown... a-and pretty face... and fancy water bending?”

The two guards exchange quiet glances, and for a moment Sokka fears he’s been caught, but to his delight the two clear the way and allow him entry to the meeting. A good amount of men stand about conversing, most of them strangers to Sokka considering they’re not from his village, and it is because of this that he is able to easily blend in and walk about eavesdropping on the different conversations without being noticed.

“Koa’s going to strengthen our tribe, you’ll see.”

“The Princess will never live up to her father. I bet she cares more about her Fire Lord boyfriend than her own tribe. Koa says it’s true.”

“Koa said it was Prince Zuko who killed Chief Tukon. How can someone be with the person responsible for their own father’s death?! She’s obviously lost her mind.”

“She doesn’t deserve the throne. She’s selfish, she’s childish, and she isn’t even a very good water bender. Did you see her hands? If that were me I wouldn’t have gotten burned.”

“Wow, you guys are seriously misinformed,” Sokka mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching as he bites back the urge to defend your name. Luckily, all conversation ceases as Koa appears at the center of the room, preventing the boy from blowing his cover with an angry outburst.

Sokka scrambles to follow the movements of the other men, most of them guards and a handful of them villagers, but all salute Koa and express their praise for the man who gives them a pleased smile before raising his hand to silence the men.

“Thank you all for coming here. I admire your perseverance and your dedication to the cause. With the rise and fall of the sun a new day approaches, and with each day that passes the Princess continues to fall short of her duties. What has she done other than take part in a mediocre party she threw for herself? What of the rest of us, the men trying to rebuild our lives in the wake of her absence?”

Oh, I don’t know, maybe saved the world, Sokka thinks bitterly to himself. Man, this guy is so lucky Zuko isn’t around.

“Under my rule we could get the Southern Water Tribe back to its rightful place in the world. We don’t need the Fire Nation or our sister tribe or anyone else. Trust in me, and you will have everything you should ever desire.”

“But our sister tribe is our ally,” one of the men says, “I have family there. Shouldn’t we remain in contact?”

“What has the North ever done for you?” Koa sneers, quieting the man and only further fueling Sokka’s hatred for Koa. What does he know?! “Once the Princess is taken care of, the North will be next.”

All the men look upon one another uneasily, but no one dares speak against Koa. Attacking their sister tribe doesn’t seem right, but surely he knows what’s best for them?

“How are we going to take care of the Princess?” Sokka calls from the crowd, deepening his voice and ducking down in the back so as to not draw attention to himself.

“I’m glad you asked,” Koa says with a sinister smirk. “She’s overstayed her welcome for much too long. It’s time we drove her out of the palace once and for all.”

“And how will we do that, sir?”

“A mutiny.”

~~~

“Princess?” Kai splutters in surprise at the sight of you and Katara standing in his front doorway.

“Kai, I know this is a lot to ask of you but I need you to let me go through your father’s things,” you say.

“Okay,” Kai shrugs simply, prompting you and Katara to exchange surprised glances.

“Wait, really? You’re not going to even ask why?”

“I know my dad’s a jerk, and I know you’re doing your best to put the tribe back together,” he explains simply as he leads the two of you to his father’s bedroom. “He’s honestly been kind of a pain lately, and I feel like he’s going to do more harm than good. Why shouldn’t we try to stop him?”

“Wow, that’s really noble of you,” Katara murmurs slowly.

“Maybe if he’d been a little nicer to me I might have reconsidered helping you, but it is what it is. You have plenty of time to explore, but I’ll keep watch just in case he comes back early.”

“Thank you, Kai. Honestly, you have no idea how much this means to me,” you profess earnestly. The boy smiles shyly in return.

“Anything for you, y/n,” he replies, and with that you and Katara are off in search of more evidence.

“I hope Sokka’s doing okay,” you murmur softly as you shuffle through Koa’s things.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Katara consoles you. “You know he’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah, I know...”

“Hey, I found the missing pages!” Katara says, her brows furrowing as she reads over the notes.

“What is it?”

“These notes... They’re plans to invade the North.”

“What?!” You exclaim in surprise as you join her side and peer over the handwriting. “That’s impossible! There’s no way anyone will go along with that.”

“Not according to these papers. ‘Every man is expendable. Do whatever it takes and get rid of anyone who tries to get in the way,’” she reads carefully. “Koa isn’t just trying to take your throne away, but the Northern throne too.”

“He always used to make subtle suggestions about the North to my father when he was advisor, but I never knew they were this serious...” you utter solemnly. “We have to stop him before it’s too late.”

“Y/N! Katara!” Sokka shouts, startling the two of you.

“Sokka, quiet down! You’re going to get us caught!” His sister scolds. “What is it?”

“Koa wants to invade the North!”

“We know that already!”

“Yeah, well do you also know that he and the guards are staging a mutiny three days from now against y/n?!” He reiterates. Your face pales with worry and your stomach begins to sink as you process the news Sokka has just delivered.

“A mutiny?” You squeak, the two siblings immediately ceasing their bickering to rush to your side and comfort you. You try to hold back the tears, but you can’t help the way your shoulders begin to shake and your bottom lip begins to quiver. “I really am a failure...”

“No, don’t say that!” Katara protests, pulling you into her arms for possibly the tightest hug you’ve ever received in your entire life. “None of this is your fault.”

“But it is! You and my mother say it’s not my fault but none of this would have happened if I hadn’t left home!”

“Y/n—”

“And I know what you’re going to say, and no, I don’t regret leaving. I don’t regret any of it because then I wouldn’t have Zuko or Iroh or Suki or you guys. But that doesn’t change the fact that my selfishness has now put both tribes in danger. I’ll never be the leader my father was.”

“No, you won’t,” Sokka says much to your surprise, carefully wiping away the tears that fall down your cheeks. “You’ll never be your father, because you’re not supposed to be like him. You’re you, Princess y/n of the Southern Water Tribe, master water bender and rightful heir to the throne. You can do this.”

“We believe in you, y/n,” Katara reinforces firmly. “And we’re going to help you get through this. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” you sniffle, wiping away your tears before holding your chin high. “You’re right. I can’t get anything done if I just sit here and cry. If Koa wants a fight then I’ll be ready for a fight. Sokka, Katara, I hate to ask this of you but is there any chance your father and his men will be willing to help?”

“Dad already said he’d be here to help if you needed it. Our village is just as eager for the end of Koa’s reign as we are,” Katara says. “They’re falling apart without the resources Koa promised them.”

“We know what’s coming and we know what to do,” Sokka reiterates. “We’ll be ready for Koa.”

“And that’s a promise.”

~~~

The flames of the fire that surround the throne glow brilliantly along the palace walls and bathe the room in a peaceful light. On the throne sits Fire Lord Zuko, his knee bouncing anxiously as he awaits the arrival of his servant. He hopes the delay means there’s news waiting for him, but when she arrives empty handed Zuko deflates.

“There was nothing?”

“We received no new letters from the Southern Water Tribe,” she replies solemnly, bowing her head in respect. Zuko is silent for a moment as he does his best to quell his panic.

“I see,” he murmurs thoughtfully before reaching into his robe for the scroll safely tucked away inside and unraveling it to look over his own letter.

To my beloved Princess,

I haven’t heard from you since I last saw you, I hope you’re alright. I’m sure you’re doing amazing things for your tribe, and I couldn’t be more honored to call you my girlfriend. I wish you only the best and hope this letter finds you well. Please write me back when you can just so I can sleep soundly knowing you’re okay and safe. I love you.

- Zuko

“Make sure this gets to Princess y/n,” he orders as he hands the scroll to the servant.

“Yes, my lord,” she replies earnestly before scurrying off to deliver the message and leaving Zuko to stew in his own thoughts.

“Spirits, help me,” he sighs with a tired rub of his eyes. It’s been a long week and each day that passes without word from you is another day of agonizing torture. “Please be okay...”

You really should have told Zuko about Koa from the beginning.

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#I’m having too much fun with this storyline ajsns #we love #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #sokka #sokka x reader #katara #katara x reader #zuko and the princess #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #fire lilies #the throne #au