#and this couple would just take them all??? even after we’d tell them repeatedly that it was ours and those snacks weren’t gonna be

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Self-Doubt (+18)

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader

WC: 2600

MINORS DNI

Summary: Sanji isn't himself after being rescued. You help him work through his big feelings

CW: HURT AND COMFORT. trauma? sex, oral sex, MOMMY KINK, boob suckin, unprotected sex (don't) creampies (also don't) and pet names.

(Not proof read my edible kicked in)

— — 

After successfully rescuing your cook from Big Mom’s clutches, there was something off about him. Sanji wasn’t the same flirty, playful man that had left you at Dressrosa. He seemed distracted all of the time, like he was lost inside of his own head as he absentmindedly stirred pots and pans on the stove. His constant fawning over you, Nami, and Robin had slowed dramatically and hell, he barely even argued with Zoro anymore… that was the biggest red flag.  You cared for your crew mate and friend deeply, so you were determined to help him out of this slump. 

Your attempts at getting him to open up to you had repeatedly failed. Each time you asked him if something was bothering him or even just asking how he was doing, he would fake a smile and tell you not to worry about him. You couldn’t give up, you had to try harder. 

One afternoon, you catch Sanji in the kitchen preparing for dinner. 

“Smells good in here!” You say in a sing song voice you enter the galley and see your favorite cook at the counter chopping carrots. 

“Y/n, darling, thank you. Anything you need?” Sanji briefly looks up at you to flash you a tired smile. 

“Hmmm maybe…” You stroll into the large pantry and root around. 

“Y/n if there’s something you desire, I’d be happy to fetch it for you, no need to dig around in there…” Sanji puts his knife down on the cutting board with a huff. 

Before Sanji could step towards the pantry, you emerge with two wine glasses and a bottle of white wine in your hands. 

“What do you say you shuck a couple of those oysters in the ice box and we can enjoy them with this,” You wiggle the wine bottle in Sanji’s direction. “Like we used to back the day? I know they’re your favorite. Remember when we’d have to put a chair under the door handle so Luffy wouldn’t come in and slurp them all down?”

Sanji chuckles lowly and shakes his head. 

“Yes how could I forget? We would get so drunk, too…” He cracks a genuine smily briefly before it fades from his lips. “I’m not hungry. But if you’d like some, I can prepare some for you.”

You sigh.

“I don’t want them by myself. Will you at least have a glass of wine with me?” You smile and step closer to him. 

“I can do that.” Sanji reaches into his pocket and retrieved his wine key. He takes the bottle and glasses from you. He opens the bottle and pours two large glasses full. 

“Ice in yours?” Sanji asks. 

“You always remember how I like things.” You nod and smile. 

Sanji plops a few ice cubes into your glass. You raise yours. 

“Cheers to having you back.” You say as you tip your glass in his direction. 

Sanji hesitates, but eventually grabs his glass and clinked it with yours wordlessly. You both sip your drinks. 

“If you don’t mind, darling, I have to finish preparing for dinner. You can stay if you’d like, but I can’t say I’m much of a conversationalist as of late…” Sanji throws a dish towel over his shoulder and continues his work on the vegetables. 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to talk. I just like being around you.” 

Sanji nods and you watch him cook in silence for the next hour. As you observed him, you notice the heavy grey bags under his eyes, it was now clear that he wasn’t sleeping. Every now and then he would reach up and rub at his neck, obviously sore and aching. You hated seeing him in such a state, but he made it clear he wasn’t ready to talk and you weren’t going to force it. 

Once Sanji finishes the meal, you head out and gather the rest of the crew for dinner. 

The meal was wonderful as always and your rowdy crew filled the room with raucous laughter and conversation. Once everyone had their fill of food and drink, they thanked Sanji and filed out of the dining room to entertain their own evening activities. Most of your crew mates had gone to bed, but since the night was clear and warm you decided to lay out on the deck and look for shooting stars with Chopper. 

“You see those 5 big stars over there?” You say as you point into the distance. 

“Yeah, I think so!” Chopper wiggles his ears. 

“That constellation is called Pablo the Reindeer Warrior! He was a famous big strong reindeer who saved a city from destruction and became a hero!” 

“Wow! Really?!” Chopper looks over at you. 

“No, haha. I had you there!” You throw your head back and laugh. 

“Aww, y/n no fair.” The little reindeer pouts. 

“Sorry little buddy, it was too easy.” 

After a few minutes go by you see a shooting star. 

“Chopper did you see that!?” You turn to the side and see the tiny doctor fast asleep beside you. You smile and scoop him up in your arms and rise to your feet. You carry Chopper to his bed in the medical bay and tuck him in tightly. You yawn. It was late, but you wanted to see if Sanji was still doing dishes before you headed off to sleep. 

Sure enough, as you enter the galley, Sanji’s slender figure was slumped over the sink finishing up the dishes. 

“Hey San-“ You stop once you hear a sniffle. 

You go silent and don’t move any further. Was he… crying?

“*sniff* y/n, it’s late.” Sanji chokes back something like a wet sob. “You should head to bed. *sniff*” Sanji says without turning around, right hand covering his face over the sink.

“Sanji… you’re… not okay…” You say softly as you approach him slowly. “And that’s okay… you just have to let someone help you… we’re a family and you don’t have to do anything alone…” You reach his trembling form and reach up to gingerly touch his shoulder. 

Sanji jerks against your touch. You recoil your hand. 

“No! Don’t you get it! I fucked up! I am fucked up!” Sanji removes his hand from his face, revealing red, wet eyes. “I put everyone in danger and it was all my fault…” Heavy tears spill over and cascade down his porcelain cheeks. 

You immediately pull him into you and put your hand on the back of his head to push him into the crook of your neck. You wrap your other around around his shoulder to keep him close to your body. He cries harder. 

“I can’t sleep, y/n… I keep having nightmares… It’s just too much…” Sanji breathes out into your skin, now wet from his tears. You stroke his hair. 

“Sanji I understand why you might feel like that, but I promise you no one resents you for anything. You were doing what you thought would save us. We’re all just so happy to have you back.” You coo soothingly into his ear. 

“You shouldn’t have come for me, I’m not worth it. I’m a disgusting monster…” Sanji sobs 

You rub circles into his back. 

“Hey, out of all the disgusting monsters we’ve fought over these years, I’m pretty sure you’re very low on the list.” You joke. 

Sanji cries harder. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m kidding. You’re not disgusting and you’re not a monster. Imagine Luffy hearing you say this? You know he wouldn’t stand for it.” You state firmly. 

Sanji’s sobbing slows. 

“Hey… why don’t you stay with me tonight?” You ask. 

Sanji pulls back and looks in your eyes.

“What?” He questions. 

“If you stay with me, you won’t be alone if you have a nightmare. You’ll feel better if you get a decent night’s sleep.” You wipe tears and snot from his princely face. “Please?” You persist. 

“I… Ok…” Sanji resigns. 

“Good, when you finish cleaning up, come to my room.” You push his hair back and retreat to your bedroom deep inside the ship. 

You wash up and slip on a large clean shirt and boy short panties before you slide into bed. You sigh and stretch against your comfortable sheets. 

*knock knock*

“Come in!” You holler from your bed. Sanji meekly peeks his head into your room and you smile and wave him in. He had cleaned up his face and combed his hair, his normal three piece suit swapped for grey sweats and a white tee. 

“Hi!” You sit up in bed and pat the spot next to you in bed. 

“A-are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the loveseat?” Sanji asked as he pointed at the couch in the corner of your bedroom. 

“Sleeping on a sofa isn’t going to make your quality of sleep any better. Shut up and get in here, cook.” You roll your eyes. Sanji delicately slides underneath your fluffy purple comforter and takes his place beside you. 

“Good. Now get some sleep.” You reach up and turn out your bedside lamp. You settle yourself in, facing inwards curled on your side, how you always slept. You listen to Sanji’s nervous, heavy breathing for a few moments before he spoke. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes?” You open your eyes and look up at him. 

“Could I… hold you?” He asks with a shaky breath. 

“Of course. Come here.” You pull Sanji’s head down to lay between your breasts and he wraps him arm around your waist. You throw your leg over his hip and begin stroking his hair. Sanji couldn’t help but nuzzle his nose deeper into the crease of your breasts through your shirt. You smirk. After a few minutes of innocent cuddling, you feel Sanji’s hand on your side slip up your shirt and caress your naked back. The next thing you notice is the very slight grinding up his hips up into you. He was so cute like this, you couldn’t help but want to let him play… Maybe this is what he needed?

“Here baby…” you quickly pull back and remove your shirt, breasts falling into Sanji’s face in the process. You lay back down and pull his head back to your tits. “Go ahead and suck, sweetheart…” You guide his lips to your erect nipple. 

“Y/n yes…mmmpphh…” Sanji moans around your pert bud, continued to rut his hips into you. You arch your back and sigh at the sensation of his plush lips on your breast. 

Sanji sucks hungrily at your tit as he brings his hand to knead and squeeze at your other one. 

“Mmmmph.. thank you.. so perfect…” Sanji mutters as he pulls off your breast to give the other one the same attention, a sloppy string of saliva now connecting them. Minutes went by with Sanji just desperately suckling your chest, little whimpers leaving his lips every now and then…

“Feels so good, sweet boy, so good for me…” You coo as you tug at his hair. 

“Hmmppph… fuck… thank you mommy….” Sanji groans into your chest. 

You eyes snap open. 

*Oooooh, so that’s what he’s into… you know what? That makes sense…”

It might not be something you were used to, but you were happy with providing Sanji with whatever he needed in this very moment. You pull him gently by his hair out of your breasts and look into his glassy eyes. 

“Wanna be a good boy and fuck me, Sanji?” 

“Gods, more than anything.” Sanji bolts upright and sheds himself of his shirt and sweats, long cock standing at attention. You snap out of your daze staring at Sanji’s large member and shimmy off your panties. You spread your legs wide to entice him to enter you already. Sanji hovers over you. 

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You buck your hips up at him. 

“I can’t… not yet…” 

“What?” You sit up on your elbows. 

“Gotta taste you first… smells so nice…” Sanji drops to his stomach between your legs and spreads your glistening lips with his fingers. “Fucking pretty…” Sanji sighs before diving into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. You yelp out in surprise and pleasure. Sanji makes out with your clit as his saliva and your slick dris down the rest of your sex, soaking your skin and the bed under you. You writhe and moan under his tongue as your feel him start to play with both of your holes with his wet thumb and forefinger. His finger teases your soaked pussy as his thumb applied pressure in circles around your tight ass, all as he slurped on your clit. You found yourself hurtling towards an explosive ending very quickly. 

“Shit, Sanji!” You cry out and grip his hair as you cum violently all over Sanji’s face. The moan he let out as you released on him might have been as loud as your own, it was filthy and pornographic. 

Sanji takes one last lick of your sex before coming back up to hover over you. 

“You’re really fucking good at that.” You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. 

Sanji chuckles and leans down to give you a passionate kiss. The flavor of your orgasm on his lips was making your head spin. 

“Wanna fuck you now…” Sanji whispers as he pulls back from you. 

“You can fuck me baby, I wanna feel you…” 

Sanji straddles one of your legs and pulls the other to wrap around his hip, turning you slightly on your side. He wastes no time in pushing his swollen cock into your seeping hole. Sanji stutters and gasps as he bottoms out inside of you, overwhelmed at the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in so tightly. 

“Y/n… fuck…” Sanji pants and pulls out of you just slightly, admiring your slick coating his shaft already. 

“So good baby, you stretch me out so good…” You purr as you run your hand up and down his chest. 

“Shit…” Sanji pushes back in, all the way to his pelvis and grinds into you, making sure to press into your clit. He continues grinding his hips in circles against yours. 

“Yes! Just like that, so fucking good baby!” You cry out and throw your head back, this particular position had Sanji able to stimulate all of your senses. 

“A-ah- Fuck! You’re squeezing me so tight! A-are you gonna cum?” Sanji stutters as he tries to keep his pace while fucking into you. 

“Yes honey, I’m gonna cum. Keep going, make mommy cum, baby- Ah!” You cry out and your dam bursts all over Sanji’s legs and pelvis. 

“Mommy! Fuck, ah! Can’t hold it, gotta.. gotta fill you! Please!” Sanji shouts as his hips move more erratically. 

In your post orgasm daze you whisper out a short “cum in me, please” and Sanji does just so with a loud groan, surely heard by everyone on the ship. You whimper as you feel him shooting rope after rope of thick white into your womb. Once his body stopped shaking on top of you, Sanji pushed himself off and flopped down next to you in bed. 

“Y/n…” Sanji turns to you and grabs your cheek. “Thank you…” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t thank me. I’d be doing this with your no matter what had happened. You mean so much to me…” You look up into Sanji’s blue eyes. 

“I… I don’t deserve you…” Sanji looks away. 

“Hey.” You tilt his chin up to you. “No more of that. I thought I made that very clear.” You giggle and place a quick kiss on his lips. Sanji smiles. 

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

xx

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #vinsmoke sanji

[thetomorrowshow]

“Griiaaaan! It’s cold.”

“It’s not cold. Be quiet.”

And the stupid thing is, it is cold. Grian’s never lived in a desert before, but he’d expected it to be hot all the time, not just during the day. It’s the desert, after all—the only things that grow here are spindly leafless bushes, and all the animals that he’s spotted spend most of their time in the shade of sand mounds and rocks.

Most of the nights have still been a bit warm for what Grian’s used to, but apparently the winter’s coming on fast, and it surely has nothing to do with a certain Red King. An execution had occurred just this morning, and now Ren is Red, and apparently the rest of the world has been suffering from it.

“Yes it is,” grumbles the pile of blankets beside him, and Grian sighs.

He’s supposed to be on watch alone, for half the night, then wake up Scar to watch the other half. Scar, however, thinks that keeping watch is stupid, even when Grian has repeatedly stressed that he is no longer the only Red on the server, and one of the others is a very dangerous enemy to them.

“If you’re cold, get in bed,” Grian tells him, and Scar shifts and bit before speaking, teeth clacking together exaggeratedly.

“It’s c-cold there too!”

Grian rolls his eyes, wraps his arms a little tighter around himself. His sweater’s getting pretty scraggly these days. He just had to darn the elbow last week, but that’s about the extent of his knitting skills. If it falls apart completely, he’ll be stuck in just his undershirt, nothing to keep him warm in the approaching winter.

“You know, there’s a way to make us both warm,” Scar teases, his head emerging from the blankets to wink at Grian. Grian shoves him.

“Scar! Stop it and go to bed!”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean anything!” Scar says innocently. “I just meant if we were both in bed right now, we could be sharing body heat! I don’t know what you thought I meant. You have a dirty mind, Grian.”

Grian buries his face in his hands. He never should have signed up for this. Out of the ten-some other players in the immediate vicinity, why couldn’t he have blown up anyone else? Why couldn’t he end up with loyalty pledged to Tango, or Etho, or literally any other player on the server?

“C’mon, Grian,” Scar wheedles. “Nobody’s gonna attack! We have the cactus walls, and the lava moat, and the alarm system you rigged today! Even if someone did try to take some sand, we’d know.”

“Right. The alarm system that consists of a bunch of bells and string, which goes off at the slightest breeze. I have so much faith in it.”

“Great, we’re on the same page! So it’ll be totally safe for us to sleep together.” “Scar! I will push you off my mountain!”

“Hey! I resent that—it’s as much my mountain as it is yours.”

Grian lifts his head. Enough of Scar is visible that he can see the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

And somehow, he’s half tempted to agree with Scar just to get him to go to bed.

It is pretty chilly out, after all. And he’s very tired. He’d only volunteered to take first watch because he really didn’t want to be woken up in the middle of a sleep cycle. First watch just means staying up a couple of extra hours and then sleeping soundly.

He glances at Scar again, who—oh, he’s making the puppy-dog eyes—

“Fine,” Grian grumbles, hauling himself to his feet. Scar scrambles up as well and runs for the house, sand flying behind him.

“At least shake the blankets out!” calls Grian. Scar ignores him.

Does he really want to get into bed with a madman? All it takes is the Red haze getting to Scar, and he’s dead in an instant. No armor, no weapon, nothing to protect him from being stabbed in the gut by his supposed ally.

Then a bitingly cold gust of wind blows sand in his nostrils, and Grian decides he’s rather fed up with all this desert stuff and would much rather be asleep, Scar or no. They should be safe to not worry about watches until tomorrow—after all, Scar’s done nothing to torment anyone (other than Grian) this week! Never mind that it’s Monday night. 

He heads inside, shucking off his sweater right outside the door to shake it off. His bedroom is the first one on the left, putting Scar deeper in the house and therefore safer, so he turns to go in there—

Of course. Scar’s in his bed.

He’d held onto some strand of hope that maybe Scar had been joking about sleeping together, maybe he’d just been trying to get Grian to go to sleep so he could set out on some dastardly scheme without anyone to hold him back. But Scar’s there, blanket pulled up to his chin, a nightcap (where did he get that?) on his head.

“Why, hello there, Grian!” Scar grins at him. “Ready for some sleepy-times-with-Scar? I’ve been warming the bed up for you.”

Grian almost walks right back out the door. Suddenly, being on watch doesn’t sound that bad.

This might be the last full night of sleep he gets for a while.

“All right. Ground rules,” Grian says, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Scar cheers, arms up in the air, the blanket falling off to reveal a grey six-pack and copious amounts of sand.

“Scar! Put a shirt on! That’s the first rule, wear clothes!”

“But-but-but skin contact, Grian!”

“I am putting my foot down! Clothes on in bed!”

Muttering darkly to himself, Scar rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but his nightcap and a pair of shorts. Grian takes the opportunity to tear the sheets and covers off the bed, shaking them out before stretching them back over the thin mattress. He really ought to change the sheets, but he doesn’t have the wool nor the time to make an extra set. They’ll have to make do with this for now, and maybe he can take a moment tomorrow to wash them.

Scar’s put on a t-shirt, which Grian supposes is the best he’s going to get. He kicks off his shoes and socks, strips out of his jeans and dusts his legs off. There’s enough sand clinging to his leg hair that his skin has practically changed color, a clear line separating the brown and starkly pale from where his socks had been. That’s just awful. Of all places, why on earth did Scar have to pick the worst one?

He can dip into the river to bathe tomorrow, and maybe he can convince Scar to wash off as well (not likely, seeing as Scar has as much aversion to a bath as a feral cat, but it’s worth a try).

He’s washing the sheets anyway. It won’t be a problem to get them this little bit dirtier.

Grian climbs into bed, and Scar hops in next to him immediately. “Second ground rule—” Grian starts, but before he can finish, Scar has almost entirely enveloped him in a burning hot hug.

He can feel the tension just ooze out of Scar’s body as they lie there, Scar’s body burning his at every place they touch. The man sighs, burying his nose in Grian’s hair.

And Grian. . . .

Grian relaxes too.

Just a bit! And it’s just—it’s really just because he’s lying down, and he’s been so terribly tired. No other reason.

Still. He’s hesitant to push Scar away. He does, of course, sitting up to pull up the covers and thereby disrupting Scar’s hold.

“Second rule,” he repeats. “No touching. No cuddling, hugging, or anything of the sort.”

“That’s a bad rule.”

Grian sighs. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Scar gestures wildly, almost knocking the candle off the bedside table. Grian leans over him and grabs it just in time, blows out the flame. “Well—well, the whole reason we’re sleeping together is for shared body warmth! No touching totally ruins that!”

Grian shouldn’t give in easily. He really shouldn’t. But now bereft of Scar’s touch, he feels even colder than before. All the burning points of contact are just numb, now. And Grian really wants to be warm.

“All right, fine.”

Scar tackles him before he can even lie all the way down. Grian decides to just accept it, honestly. What else can he do?

“Third rule: no talking. We are here to sleep.”

Scar nods, releasing Grian for a moment to mime zipping up his lips.

Good. Grian lays back against his pillow, pulling the blanket up to his collarbone, and sighs. It’s not too bad, really. At least this way, if someone comes to kill them in their sleep, they’ll go out together.

That’s . . . a weird thought to have. Grian’s in the middle of decidedly not analyzing it when something ice cold presses against his legs.

He definitely does not screech as he kicks against it. “Scar! Get your cold feet away from me!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just that I’ve been so cold ever since I died, and you’re like a mini space heater over here!”

Grian groans, trying to maneuver his legs in such a way that as much of the covers as possible are between his legs and Scar’s. “I’m about to bring back rule number two, so behave.”

Scar falls silent again, and Grian tries to relax (in his arms). It’s not difficult to feel the pull of sleep. It’s not difficult to let sleep claim him, his limbs heavy and brain slowing to a soupy mush. It feels so nice to not be poised for battle, not be planning their next move. He hasn’t felt this peaceful in weeks.

“Grian?” comes a whisper from beside him.

He’s suddenly aware that he’s been drifting. He's not sure how long it’s been. Hours? Minutes?

“Rule number three,” he grouses.

A shifting of the covers, pulling them taut. “Sorry. Don’t worry about it!”

Reluctantly, Grian drags his eyes open. The world is still dark, the air as still as before. Scar had started to ask a question, and curse him for it because he knows that Grian’s too curious to let it go now. He has to know what Scar wanted. “No. Wha’ is it?”

“What do you miss most about Hermitcraft?”

Hermitcraft. He hasn’t properly thought about it in a while. It’s not that he’d forgotten it, but the longer they spend in 3rd Life, the farther away it is in his mind. This is—what, the sixth week?

Six weeks since he last did anything with his mansion. Six weeks since he restocked the Barge.

“My diamonds,” he says after a moment. “I was so rich, Scar. I had stacks of diamond blocks. Not that I don’t miss other things,” he adds. “Good community, and my mansion, and all that. I just miss the security of so much money.”

Scar hums into his hair, a shiver running down Grian’s back at the tingly feeling. A minute passes, and while Grian’s still barely keeping his eyes open he’s also still curious.

“What about you? What do you miss?”

“Jellie,” Scar says instantly, some sort of wistful longing in his voice that Grian hasn’t ever heard from him.

It’s understandable, of course. It’s his cat. It’s just that the entire time they’ve been playing this death game, Scar has never wanted something as badly as he wants Jellie right now. It’s touching, in a way—the idea that his love for that cat is so strong that even his Red name can’t make it waver.

And in another way, it’s annoying. Because somehow, Scar has retained the capacity to love and want and he’s only felt that way about a cat.

And Grian is definitely not jealous of a cat, of all things. That would be—that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

If he were fully awake right now, he’d probably stomp off to his creeper farm or go dig sand for a couple of hours until he's completely forgotten about these gnawing feelings and can focus.

But sleepy Grian acknowledges them, holds them close to his chest, and lets himself feel how desperately he wants to be wanted.

Right now, he’s as close to Scar as he can get, head pressed against his chest and strong arms around him. If anyone happened upon them right now, they would instantly assume the obvious.

Yet Grian’s never felt more alone.

“Scar,” he whispers before he can stop himself. “If I wasn’t here, would you miss me?”

Scar's been shuffling around every couple of seconds, so it’s apparent when he goes utterly still.

“Um. You’ve taken me a bit by surprise here, G,” Scar laughs nervously. Sleepy Grian takes that exact moment as a chance to listen to the rational side of Grian’s brain, which is screaming for him to shut up, run away, hide.

“Sorry,” Grian immediately says, face burning. “I—forget I said anything—”

Then Scar presses a kiss into his dirty hair, and Grian’s brain short-circuits.

“Of course I would miss you,” Scar murmurs. “I mean, we all would, but I would miss you the most. I didn’t put you on a llama and carry you away to the desert for nothing.”

Scar’s voice sounds so very fond that Grian can’t help it when his stomach flips a little. He pushes his head up against Scar’s chin, curls a little closer into his body. Scar really is as cold as he’d said. Grian finds himself wondering if he runs warmer normally, which of course makes his brain send him all sorts of ways he can find out when they get back to Hermitcraft.

Not that that will ever happen. This is—this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two bros, cuddling and falling asleep together. Hermitcraft—and even just tomorrow—will be back to normal.

And perhaps most importantly, Grian cannot allow Scar to become a weakness. He cannot let their enemies see him like this, exhausted and yearning and lonely. He has to be strong to keep the both of them safe.

For now, though, he can just pretend like the game doesn’t exist. He can press closer to Scar, his skin burning in such a good way, and live in Scar’s arms.

In the morning, things will go back to normal.

And when Scar whispers, rasping words loud in the silence of the room, “Grian, I really really like you, I think,” Grian pretends to be asleep.

#3rd life smp #trafficblr #scarian #desert duo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #mas writes #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. #sometimes you just gotta rewatch 3rd life and spiral #this will be uploaded on ao3 under the title 'so taut it taunts the song' #fair warning this is a bit sad

[ecoamerica]

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[bigskydreaming]

Brain topic du jour is reflecting on the frankly weird as fuck pattern in Dick’s life where....he barely ever experiences losses one at a time. Most of the loss he’s experienced in his life is compounded by him losing multiple people and other elements of stability all at the exact same time.

1) When his parents died, in some continuities this is coupled with him losing his extended family of his aunt and cousin as well, with his uncle left comatose and on life support for years before he eventually died as well. Even in continuities without Richard, Karla and John, the loss of Dick’s parents is compounded by the additional loss of his circus family in the sense that he was taken away from them by the state and their constant reassuring presences in his life were no longer comforts he was able to rely on.

2) When Jason died, Dick didn’t just lose his brother, as the tragedy was compounded by Bruce’s reaction. I’ll never be able to gloss over the effects of NTT #55, personally, because I think its too key to Dick’s entire characterization and the specific direction his character took in the years that followed this, to like....disregard that Bruce however unintentionally, while lost in his own grief, added to Dick’s own sense of loss for Jason in probably the worst way possible. As by kicking Dick out and telling him to leave his keys, Dick - having no way to know or guess that they’d ever reconcile, just like he never actually went back to the circus being a regular presence for him - to Dick, this was in essence the equivalent of his childhood tragedy all over again. Losing not just one family member, but his whole family in one sweep, and all the comforts and stability offered by a home he was forced to leave. Even Dick’s contact with Alfred was minimal for awhile, because why would the guy who basically JUST saw history repeat itself and was like, well I know how THIS tends to play out.....why would he think that if Alfred felt forced to actually choose between his loyalties to Bruce and Dick respectively, that Alfred would pick Dick over the man he’d known and raised from childhood himself?

3) Titans Hunt. I know I harp on this one a lot, but you can’t deny that it fits the pattern. Dick didn’t just lose one friend and teammate.....he lost Joey, he lost a good four or five lesser known Titans who nevertheless were people he viewed as directly HIS responsibility to keep safe. With these tragedies compounded by the fact that though comics played out a lot more slowburn and extended stories over years back then, like.....the aftermath of Titans Hunt was still everpresent and directly died into Dick’s reactions and emotions during the Mirage storyline and everything that happened with the failed wedding and his breakup with Kory AND the fact that he was literally forced off the team he’d basically founded, by the government agency that took over the team and appointed Roy as its leader in his stead.

3) Graduation Day. The second time the Titans disbanded it was again not due to a singular loss, because Dick didn’t just lose Donna at this point, but also Lilith died in the exact same story and though Lilith is criminally underused, like, she’s also one of Dick’s oldest friends. She was literally the first Titan to join after the original five. This then led into the Outsiders era, where Dick was shown to still be reeling from the losses of this story for an extended period of time, and in a fun parallel to the Titans Hunt aftermath, Dick was also ousted from his leadership of THIS team by essentially a vote of no confidence by his teammates (and uh, Bruce too, literally).

4) The Blockbuster arc. Where Dick’s emotional state was due to a continued string of multiple losses. He lost his apartment building and almost every one of the neighbors he’d built a community out of, as we’d been shown him actively involving himself in their lives and vice versa for YEARS before this point. Then he lost his circus, his childhood home, burned to the ground and with dozens of deaths - both spectators and actual performers Dick had known and loved as a child. Then he lost his relationship with Barbara, his sense of self-security and autonomy to Tarantula, he lost another teen vigilante who died in his colors, the mantle HE’D created, when Stephanie was believed dead in War Games, and it all culminated in losing the city he’d invested himself in as his CHOSEN home, the place he dedicated himself to protecting, when Chemo blew it up.

Oh just for the record - my nonexistent passport to the magical kingdom of Narnia for a fic that raises the point when bringing up Tim’s losses in the Red Robin era, that like.....ALL of the above happened at literally the EXACT SAME TIME as all Tim’s referenced losses occurred. Obviously Steph meant more to Tim than Dick on a personal level, but I also included her largely as an anchor point to the timeline, to show how that death, and not long after that Jack Drake’s and then Superboy’s.... occurred right smack in the middle of one of the absolute WORST periods of Dick’s life. To be clear, I don’t intend this to suggest that no actually, Dick had it harder than Tim - nah. 

No thank you. Hard pass. I hate that sort of thing even in support of my own faves over other characters. No, instead the thing I’d love to see explored more is just in light of the SPECIFIC angle fics take here - that Dick’s actions while Bruce was lost in time showed an obliviousness to everything Tim had lost lately - for literally ANYONE to bring up or introduce into the timeline here an awareness of everything Dick had lost AT THE EXACT SAME TIME PERIOD. To establish that actually, Dick didn’t just ‘not understand what it was like’ - rather, its more accurate to say that nobody in universe around this time ever shows an awareness of Dick’s own losses and says oh wait, that doesn’t track then. 

Because obviously, with this stuff put in proper perspective, Dick understands VERY VERY WELL the exact thing we’re accusing him of not understanding by being oblivious to Tim’s losses that he’s not actually oblivious to because he tries to talk to Tim about them all the time, while meanwhile its everyone else who has absolutely mum to say about the fact that Dick’s emotional state is compromised to hell and back at this point, not JUST because of losing Bruce, but also because *gestures wildly* literally ALL OF THE ABOVE in the exact same time frame Tim’s extended losses happened in.

And okay I am going to indulge in slight tiny itty bitty pettiness and point out my ire that so many fics set during this time tend to recite listicles of Tim’s losses, with Steph, Kon and Jack Drake at the very top of said list....while paying no attention whatsoever to the fact that STEPH WAS LITERALLY BACK BY THE TIME THE RED ROBIN SERIES HAPPENED. She’s LITERALLY a person Dick sends to check up on Tim after Tim turns Dick away when he tries himself. How are you gonna stress the impact Steph’s loss has on Tim when you’re not even acknowledging STEPH’S RIGHT HERE IN THE EXACT SPECIFIC CANON STORY YOU’RE CITING??? I just. afhioskhflafhlafhklfahlfa. 

And not to put too fine a point on it, but you know who ELSE was also back at the same time? CONNOR. Superboy LITERALLY was already back to life by the time the Red Robin series even began. Like, the issue where a resurrected Kon and Cassie (Wonder Girl) have a heart to heart about the fact that Tim and Cassie ‘connected’ during his absence and Connor stresses that this doesn’t bother him or make him feel negatively towards either of them at all, because hello, he was literally dead at the time, why would he mind that two of the people he loves most in the world sought comfort in each other? Yeah, that issue? Literally came out BEFORE Tim even became Red Robin.

I MEAN. I’m just saying, when people constantly take shots at Dick’s choices during this period because of how much Tim had lost before Bruce already, in order to shift focus away from the fact that Dick lost Bruce every bit as much as Tim did......and you repeatedly emphasize the SAME three names as the focal point of Tim’s losses while paying no acknowledgment whatsoever to everything Dick lost at the exact same time Tim lost these three.....it quickly becomes kiiiiiiinda relevant in my opinion THAT TWO OF THE THREE NAMES CONSTANTLY MENTIONED AS BEING TIM’S LOSSES ARE NO LONGER EVEN LOST BY THE TIME THE SUBJECT COMES UP. Again, I’m just saying! Pettily, mind you! I am aware of the pettiness, I just beg awareness of like *again gesticulates wildly at all of the above* ALL THAT!

LOL.

But I digress.

5) When Bruce was believed dead while he was lost in the timestream. Again, Dick didn’t just lose the father who had been the only parent in his life for almost TWICE as long as his first parents......this was coupled with the loss of numerous other sources of stability in Dick’s life. There’s the matter of his personal sense of identity and self-expression....Dick FOUGHT against becoming Batman, trying to handle Gotham in Bruce’s absence as Nightwing for as long as he could, because he knew being Batman was very much NOT going to be good for him. He put so much of himself into building his identity as Nightwing, establishing himself in that role, that self-image, that yes, I maintain it was an actual LOSS for Dick, to feel like he had no choice but to give that up and everything it meant to him and his own life, in order to essentially live Bruce’s life for him in his absence. 

Because it wasn’t just being Batman that Dick was struggling with at this time....he also had to act as the patriarch to the Wayne family, essentially raise Bruce’s ten year old son, step into Bruce’s old role in Wayne Enterprises, all while getting no acknowledgment for any of this, for literally LIVING his father’s life instead of the life Dick had worked so hard to build for HIMSELF....because of course Dick’s actions and struggles couldn’t even be advertised beyond the family and close friends, because the whole point of him doing all this was so that nobody else even realized that Bruce wasn’t really there anymore. Dick didn’t just assume Bruce’s responsibilities. Dick assumed Bruce’s life, so thoroughly that most people didn’t even put together that Bruce was ‘dead,’ between Dick handling Bruce’s actual roles and responsibilities while Hush made public appearances as him. 

Like, when you’re living someone else’s life so completely that nobody can tell they’re even gone....how on earth does that leave any time or space for you to have ANY kind of life of your OWN, y’know? Not to mention the fact that like in so many times previously....all this meant that Dick couldn’t even afford to let his grief for his own losses show, because he wasn’t supposed to be grieving any losses in the first place, that was the whole point of the con!

Additionally, couple this with the fact that throughout this time period, Dick didn’t have Tim to lean on at all, because it was never that Dick kicked Tim out or neglected him or didn’t care....he’d actively stressed how much he needed Tim, because the partner Tim was convinced Dick chose ‘over’ him - Dick was the first one to admit back then that he DIDN’T trust Damian yet, couldn’t afford to, because he was all too aware that Damian didn’t give a fuck about him yet and couldn’t be guaranteed to step in to have Dick’s back - because that required mutual trust that Dick literally just hadn’t had time to build yet. And add to THAT the fact that during this time, Jason was actively antagonizing the family and Dick in particular at every turn, trying to bring them all down and basically write over what all of them saw as Bruce’s legacy with Jason’s own version of what he thought that should look like.

Also also, take into account that unlike how often we see fanon depict Dick as just too stubborn or proud to ask for help, there’s the fact that he actually had very few avenues TO ask for help! As already established, he DID ask Tim for help. Not like Jason was an option at this time, and Dick’s friends weren’t actually just sitting waiting in the wings and groaning about the fact that Dick was trying to do all of this solo....nah, they kinda had their own problems, which Dick was all too aware of?

Like the fact that in the wake of Final Crisis, it wasn’t just Bruce that was believed lost. Many other key Leaguers like Martian Manhunter were dead or lost, with others struggling to fill the gaps left in their absence. Cry For Justice happened right after Final Crisis too....that story where Lian was murdered? So it wasn’t like Dick was remotely going to try leaning on Roy when Roy had just lost his freaking DAUGHTER and very much wasn’t handling it well (and not to overshadow Roy’s loss at ALL, but please let’s not act like Dick - who had literally been the person to put a baby Lian in Roy’s arms for the first time and had known that girl for pretty much her entire life - like, it shouldn’t be used to detract from Roy’s loss at all, but it shouldn’t have to, to just acknowledge that Lian’s loss right at this exact time was painful as fuck to Dick, who’d loved his niece like crazy.)

The pattern of compounding, concurrent losses in Dick’s life. I’m just saying. Its there.

And it extends into the New 52 as well, where Forever Evil came right on the heels of Dick losing his circus in THIS continuity to the Joker, just as a way to hurt him in Death of A Family. And with the aftermath of Forever Evil and Dick’s own literal death, being like....the complete loss of Dick’s entire life, even though he was revived quickly. That didn’t mean he got to live HIS life though, since Dick Grayson was believed dead and he was told had to remain so, so its like fuck whatever he actually wanted to do as he went about on the Spyral mission aka something that pinched his own sense of morality and personal agenda at every turn and was kinda the last thing a therapist would recommend for a trauma recovery period, lol. And like, for all the focus that was paid to how Dick’s family were hurt because they believed they’d lost him when he was actually alive, let’s not forget that for all intents and purposes, Dick DID lose his family in the wake of his resurrection because he was flat out told over and over that due to what ‘he’d LET happen to him’ he was an ACTIVE danger to them, and thus wasn’t allowed by Bruce to contact any of them or lean on them to any degree, until Bruce got amnesia and stopped blocking Dick’s pleas to return home by just not being there to pick up the secret phone line at all. 

(And omg, the obliviousness that just EMANATES off the hot takes that Dick had a ‘choice’ in all this and he still CHOSE to do what Bruce told him....like. LOLOL, stop being pissy about me bringing up the term abuse apologism when its literal victim blaming to paint the guy who had to be beaten into ‘agreeing’ to the Spyral mission in the immediate wake of the trauma of DYING, all while his father vocally blamed him for his own suffering and the ‘threat’ he now posed to his family, keying directly into the guilt complex Bruce knows damn well is at the core of most of Dick’s motivations.....fucking please. There’s no choice in all that. That’s active emotional, mental and physical abuse aimed at directly manipulating Dick’s actions, delivered by the guy who knows Dick best in the world and whose approval - particularly when Dick is at absolute rock bottom aka Current Location - matters more to Dick than just about anything because his sense of self-worth has more in common with dog shit than actual dog shit does. Or something. Idk. That analogy got away from me. But like. You get it.)

BUT. I. DIE. GRESS. (I guess).

Aaaaaaanyway, so yeah! That repeating pattern throughout Dick’s life of ‘loss? What loss (singular)? My losses only come in groups, lolol, fuuuuuun’ - mmmm. Yeah. So that’s what’s on MY brain right now. Thoughts?

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

#deancas #destiel #spn fanfic #perlukafarinn writes #fluff #domestic #post-canon #established relationship #thank u to miriam who read through most of this #and assured me that it's plenty gay!

[captainimprobable]

Alright I caved.  Here’s chapter one of the still unnamed sequel to No Apologies, my Lumity coffeeshop AU. It’s been seven months since I finished the fic so I hope yall are still down for the ride! The chaos starts now :) ~

“This might be a bad time to tell you this, but roosters….kinda freak me out.”

“Amity, we are literally swimming in roosters right now.”

Amity hugged herself, shaking but still managing to roll her eyes.  “We are metaphorically swimming in roosters.”

Luz snorted.  “Whatever, Miss Accurate.”

They both looked at the rooster pen in front of them.  A cow mooed in the distance, and they took a moment of silence to question the life choices that had led up to this moment.

It didn’t take very long.  The pipeline went like this: Amity had decided to work part time at a coffee shop to piss off her parents, and two years later she was on a six month anniversary trip with a chaotic ball of energy, tripping on bird feathers at a barn many miles away from home.  Simple.

“It...it was just supposed to be an air bnb,” Luz said helplessly.

“Luz, what did the ad say?”

Luz scrambled to take her phone out of her pocket, mindlessly swatting away the pig trying to eat it out of her hand.

“Uh…’stunning country views and a realistic farming experience.’” She stomped her foot.  “That is so misleading!!!”

“I genuinely think I’m about to pass out.” Amity said, swaying slightly.

“Babe, don’t say that.  The roosters can smell your fear.”

Amity glared at her girlfriend.  “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically.  “Fine, what’s next on the list they left us?”

Luz pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper covered in lines of print detailing exactly what they had to do in order to stay at the barn.  It was politely decorated with a post it note that read “Good luck, suckers!” 

“Inspect the roosters,” she read.  “Check for obvious genetic defects.  Separate these roosters from the rest.”

Amity held up a hand to stop her.  “No. Nope. I am not inspecting roosters.  I am not separating roosters.  I am going back inside, and I am going to read a book, and I am going to pretend there are no demon chickens out here ready to peck my eyes out.”

Amity gingerly tiptoed around the roosters, taking care not to touch any of them.  One brave animal attempted to peck at her skirt, but she let out an unholy shriek that scattered them all.  Luz watched Amity flee the scene, sighing.  She picked up the list Amity had dropped and scanned the next few lines.  “The roosters with these defects will be…” she trailed off. “Oh,” she said, realization dawning.  “Oh no.”

Amity must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, it was dark and Luz was shaking her awake.

“Amity, wake up, we have an emergency.” Amity was up in an instant.  “What’s wrong? Are you okay???” “Yeah, I’m fine!” Luz assured her. “It’s just uh…..” Luz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “We have a...situation?”

Amity yawned and stretched, rubbing her eyes as she stood up.  Immediately, Luz grabbed her hand and began dragging her outside.  “Ugh, what time is it?” Amity asked, stumbling along behind Luz.   

“Uhhh about one am I think? I had to wait until now to do this.  It’s better under the cover of darkness.”  

Immediately, Amity felt a sense of extreme trepidation.  Whatever was waiting for her outside was definitely not something she wanted to see.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she was met with the sound of roosters clucking. When they reached the driveway, she stopped dead.  “Luz,” Amity said slowly, blinking repeatedly to make sure she was seeing things correctly.  “Why are there a dozen roosters in your car?”

“There’s actually fourteen,” Luz said, but faltered when Amity glared at her.  “Okay, so the thing is, well….the farmers wanted us to separate the roosters because these are the ones with defects.  And these are the ones they’re gonna sell for meat.”

“Oh god,” Amity groaned.  “Don’t tell me-”

Luz’s grin looked almost evil in the moonlight.  “We’re gonna save the roosters.”

“Luz, where the hell are you planning on bringing them??? Most roosters live in captivity!”

“So I looked it up, and it said that roosters thrive in forest climates, and the nearest forest is only two hours away!!!!”

Amity wanted to say she was surprised, but she knew Luz well enough at this point to know to expect this from her.  She reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Luz,” she said gently. “I love how big your heart is, and I love that you want to save these animals.  But roosters are supposed to live on farms.  Also, you had chicken salad for lunch.”

Luz looked at her with puppy eyes.  Fuck.  Amity couldn’t resist that.

She sighed.  “Fine,” she said.  “We can save the roosters.  But you know the farmers are gonna make us pay for them.”

“Ahhhh thank you!” Luz squealed, throwing her arms around Amity’s neck.  She kissed her cheek.  “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Amity grumbled.  “Now get in the car before I change my mind.”

~

It was going fine until they reached the gas station.  The roosters were in the back, probably shitting all over Luz’s car, and Amity was in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle and trying not to freak out.  

“Shit,” Luz said over the radio about a half hour into their ride, summing up Amity’s thoughts nicely.  “We need gas.”

“I’ll get it,” Amity volunteered quickly.  Anything to get out of the car, anything to get away from the ominous clucking emerging from the backseat.  She opened her door.  And that’s when all hell broke loose.  

Fourteen roosters, smelling freedom and gas station muffins, burst from the back seat into the front, climbing over Amity and streaming out of the passenger side door.  Amity shrieked and fell out of the car, scraping her arm on the concrete as roosters used her back as a jumping off point into the night.

Amity hissed as she used her arms to get up, her scraped elbow burning.  Luz ran around the side of the car to help stop the roosters, but it was too late.  They both watched helplessly as the birds flapped their wings and hopped away.

It was two thirty in the morning, and they had released roosters into the town.  

They were both silent as they ruminated on what had just happened.  The birds clucked in the distance, joining the cicadas in their unholy screaming.  

“We need to go,” Luz said at last, far more calmly than the panicked look in her eye suggested.  She helped Amity up, careful not to touch her injured arm and, without another word, they both got into the car and sped away.

~

Since they were fugitives now, they could no longer sleep at the barn.  Forgetting the fact that the barn’s owners had their information and would no doubt charge them for the roosters anyway, they quickly picked up their things, got back into the car, and bolted.  They drove for a couple of hours, trying in vain to ignore the strong smell of bird shit emanating from the backseat.  The streetlights illuminated the scene: feathers in the backseat, feathers in Amity’s hair, blood gently staining the paper towel Amity was holding to her elbow.   

After awhile they passed a sign for a Bed and Breakfast and Luz, having determined they’d gotten far enough away from the scene of the crime, turned the car in that direction.  They were quite a sight as they straggled into the quaint house, but the elderly owners asked no questions as to why they had shown up at four in the morning covered in feathers, so Luz and Amity gratefully stumbled up the stairs, finally collapsing in their new room.  Despite the summer heat, Amity was shivering, so Luz hurried to light the fireplace.

Once she’d tended to the fire, Luz sat down on the floor next to Amity.  “Show me,” she said, gesturing to Amity’s injured arm.  Amity wordlessly offered up her elbow, which Luz inspected.  “You don’t need stitches,” she said gratefully, pulling out a Naruto bandaid.

“How could you possibly know that?” Amity asked quietly.  Luz shrugged.  “I was really clumsy as a kid.”  

Amity raised an eyebrow.  “Okay, fine, I’m still clumsy,” Luz admitted.  

Their silences were usually comfortable, but this one most definitely was not.

“I’m really sorry,” Luz finally whispered, gingerly covering Amity’s wound with a picture of Sasuke Uchiha. “I didn’t mean to ruin our anniversary trip.”

They hadn’t spoken much since The Incident.  Amity had stared stonily out the car window while Luz drove and occasionally attempted to covertly glance at her girlfriend.  Hours had passed without Luz saying a word, a feat which Luz was secretly quite proud of.

“I really thought we’d manage to have a normal, nice time,” she continued, “but I ruined it, and now there’s a town being terrorized by roosters and it’s all my fault.”

Amity didn’t say anything for a few moments and then, unexpectedly, she started to laugh.  

“Um,” Luz said.  “Amity? Did you hit your head, too????”

“No, no,” Amity said between giggles.  “It’s just- it’s so us. Who else would this happen to?????? We released fourteen roosters onto an unsuspecting town in the middle of the night, and your car is covered in shit.  I really should’ve expected something like this.” “So...you’re not mad?”

“I was,” Amity admitted.  “In the car, I was kind of pissed.  I mean, you did wake me up in the middle of the night, which, as you know, is never a good idea, and we did have to flee our romantic trip like criminals.  But then I started thinking, and, I don’t know.”  She smiled almost shyly at Luz. 

“I knew what I was getting into when I told you I loved you,” she said simply.  “And I’m happy being with you, even if I did have to face one of my worst fears.”

“Oh my god,” Luz said, lower lip trembling.  “You’re gonna make me cry.” 

“Don’t go all soft on me now,” Amity said, rolling her eyes with a smile.  

Luz launched herself at Amity, and they fell over, rolling across the carpet a few times before finally landing next to each other on the floor.  Luz touched her forehead to Amity’s.  “I’ll always be soft when it comes to you,” she said.

“Gay,” Amity whispered back, but leaned forward and captured Luz’s mouth with hers.  

After the day they’d had, neither of them had the energy to get up, so they ended up sleeping on the floor that night, cuddled up on a blanket next to the fire.

“Happy anniversary,” Luz mumbled sleepily into Amity’s neck right before she drifted off to sleep.

“Happy anniversary,” Amity answered.

Despite it all, they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

#lumity #the owl house #this will be posted on ao3 once im almost finished with the whole fic #it may be awhile but whatev #writins #i sincerely hope enough people remember my fic that ppl will read this

[bittykimmy13]

Heartwood

A commission for the lovely pr-fae !! ✨ She requested a story about Lark and Ambrose exploring their love for each other at a traditional fairy harvest festival. In which Ambrose gets to see the world from a fairy’s perspective for the first time 👀

Word count: 8,421

There was nothing to be afraid of, Lark told herself repeatedly. As awful as Westhelm was, no one in their right mind would barge into the carriage even if they spotted her. No. Anyone who saw her would simply believe she was Ambrose’s pet, nothing more. However, that gave her enough reason to hide. She didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be owned. Even by someone as kind and gentle as Ambrose.

Clearly he sensed her uneasiness as the gates of Westhelm came into view. He drew the carriage shades and scooped Lark into his hands, hiding her against his chest in a tender hug.

“It isn’t too late to take the long way,” he told her. “We can go right around Westhelm and never even have to look at it.”

She leaned into his shirt and sighed. “No, that’d take too long. We’d miss the festival.”

He rubbed her back with his thumb as the carriage rolled on. Comforting as it was, it also drew her attention to her lack of wings. The sounds of the town began to form around them: street performers, barkers at the market, more carriages, and general conversation. She shivered, recalling those awful days when she had been up for sale in Miss Clara’s stall.

“Tell me more about Heartfelt,” Ambrose said, drawing her out of those horrid memories.

“Heartwood,” she corrected with a giggle. He had to know its proper name by now; she had a feeling he only wanted to make her laugh. “What can I say that I haven’t already? It’s a harvest festival. I attended many when I was a little girl, but c, it became a rarer tradition for me when I became nomadic. I haven’t been to a Fae village in many years, let alone attended a Heartwood festival.”

Although she and Ambrose had aided Miss Clara’s victims in getting escorted to Silky’s village, they had yet to visit Fenshire themselves.

“I suppose we’ll have to count on Silky to be our guide, then?” His thumb moved higher, playing with Lark’s hair. “Though I’m sure plenty of our old guests will be happy to help. I wonder if we’ll get to see Valentina, too. Jaune mentioned her in some of his letters. Apparently she may be trying to court someone at the festival.”

“It’ll be lovely to see how everyone is faring,” she said

He had unwittingly reminded her of the romantic nature of Heartwood. She was glad to be buried against his chest, where he couldn’t see the blush that rose to her cheeks. It was both nerve-wracking and thrilling to think that she would get to experience something so traditionally and amorously Fae with him. She should have been nothing but joyful to introduce him to the festival.

But… there would no doubt be countless fairy couples there. When she was alone with him, she had no lack of confidence about their relationship. She tried not to think about what would run through his mind. Would he yearn to be with someone his size?

Nonsense. Silky and Jaune were happily married, after all. Spending time with them would surely keep Lark from becoming insecure.

A half-hour passed with Ambrose continuing to hold her and comfort her with soft touches. It was sweet of him, but as the carriage rolled on and on, she began to wonder just how long the ride through Westhelm would be. Every few minutes, Ambrose would peek past the shades, then settle back and squeeze her gingerly against him.

“How much longer until Westhelm is behind us?” she asked finally.

“Oh?” Cupping his hands, he brought her out to see her. He raised his eyebrows innocently. “Westhelm is far, far behind us. I just thought you would appreciate my affections for the entire journey.”

“What!” Lark elbowed his index finger and pouted at him incredulously. “Why do I want to go anywhere with you, Ambrose Clemente?”

He pressed a featherlight kiss to her hairline and gave her a charming smile. “Because you can’t resist the way I hold you?”

Crossing her arms, she tried her best to glare. “I suppose I do,” she grumbled.

“I know it. That’s why you didn’t say a word about it until now.”

“Is it too late to send you back? I can get to Fenshire perfectly fine on my own, now that I’ve given it some thought.”

“Right.” He relaxed back in the cushioned seat, idly brushing her pale blue hair again. “You may get there in time for next year’s events. Without an escort, on top of that.”

“Heartwood hardly requires an escort,” she said with a smirk. “The third night celebrates romantic hopefuls just as well.”

“Is that so? Well then, I’d have to show up and court you all over again, if that’s what it takes.” He gave her a dramatically beseeching look. “That is, unless you can find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me for thinking you’d love an hours-long hug on our journey.”

“Hm. I’ll consider it and get back to you.”

Chuckling warmly, he nuzzled her once more before ferrying her to his shoulder. She settled by his neck, missing his hands already. However, he was already smug enough without that satisfaction. Instead, she asked him to pull the shades open.

Wilderness crowded the carriage path. Although Ambrose had taken her into nature plenty of times for leisure, this was different. Special. By evening, she would be back amongst her people. Her own village was destroyed by humans long ago, and Miss Clara had captured her several years after that. The fact that she could sit on a human’s shoulder and readily call him her love was a miracle.

Lark leaned into Ambrose’s neck with a serene sigh. She ran her fingers through the dark locks of hair just above her.

“And wait until you try the food,” she added. “You’ll be begging me to guide you on traditional Fae dishes once we get home. So be on your best behavior.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Lark asked.

Ambrose walked along a stone path that led to a small two-story cabin nestled among the trees. They hadn’t seen a single soul around since the carriage had dropped them off. There were squirrels here and there, along with a crow circling overhead, but neither Silky nor Jaune had come out to greet them. Lifting a hand to nudge Lark his shoulder, Ambrose chuckled.

“I don’t see any neighbors around here to confuse it with,” he pointed out.

She swiped at his fingertip, but he felt how she huddled against his neck. She was tense, no doubt looking every which way for any sign of unwanted eyes.

“You don’t need to hide,” he added, softer. “You know I’d never let anything—”

“Look out!” Lark shrieked.

A small, dark shape dive-bombed them from the sky. Snatching Lark from his shoulder, Ambrose abandoned his bag and ran for the closest tree. The cawing mass of feathers swooped overhead, barely missing him as he ducked. Panting, he cupped Lark to his chest and searched for which direction the bird would strike from next. The two of them cried out in unison as the tree branches rustled above their heads.

He looked up in time to see the crow—but quite suddenly, it wasn’t a crow anymore.

Lark peeked past Ambrose’s fingers to see. “Silky!”

The crow had transformed into a wingless fairy. She greeted them with an impish smile. “Welcome! We starting to worry you were lost. Try not to wait so long to visit next time—I almost forgot what you two look like.” She paused to cock her head at their wide-eyed expressions, grin widening. “I guess I should apologize. I couldn’t resist.”

Ambrose released a heavy breath, his shoulders dropping. “Was that necessary? You frightened Lark!”

“Really? And what about you? You bolted like a rabbit just for fun?”

He pursed his lips and glanced down to see Lark trying to cover a giggle. “Fine,” he huffed. “I suppose you startled me too. A little.”

“Yes, but it was exciting, wasn’t it?” Silky grinned, then narrowed her eyes at the cabin. “Let’s go—wouldn’t want to leave Jaune out of this happy reunion. He’s making sure everything is nice and neat for your stay.”

She threw herself off the branch, and Ambrose received his second startlement of the day when he saw her plummet. Once again, the alarm proved to be unnecessary. She shifted to crow form in midair and fluttered off toward the cabin.

“I wasn’t frightened,” he tried to tell Lark, who was still giggling up a storm. Depositing her back on his shoulder, he grabbed his bag from the stone path. “I was only thinking about protecting you. You’re welcome, darling.”

She thanked him with a kiss to his jaw. “My hero.”

Before they had reached the door, it swung open. A towering blond man walked out onto the porch and waved at them. Though Ambrose recognized Jaune, he faltered briefly in his step; after all, his first impression of the man had been when Jaune broke down the door of his previous home. All water under the bridge now, but not an event that was easily forgotten.

“Would it be too much trouble to have a road paved here?” Ambrose called amicably as he approached. “The carriage driver refused to go any further through the woods. If I had known how long I’d be hauling this, I might have packed lighter.” He gestured to the bulky bag slung over his shoulder.

“I will be sure to put in a request,” Jaune said sarcastically. He clasped Ambrose’s arm in greeting, a warm smile taking hold as he looked to the passenger on his shoulder as well. “It is wonderful to see you both again. Talking through letters is not the same.”

Silky dropped out of nowhere, landing nimbly in fairy form on Ambrose’s shoulder beside Lark. Ambrose had forgotten how tall Silky was for a fairy. She easily towered over Lark, that was certain.

“I hope my greeting won’t put you off from visiting again,” Silky said. From the corner of his eye, Ambrose glimpsed her put an arm around Lark.

“Mon coeur,” Jaune sighed. “I had hoped you were only joking when you said you were going off to terrorize our guests.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“The carriage ride was much too dull anyway,” Lark said, embracing Silky like a long-lost friend.

Jaune led the way inside the cabin. The first floor was crowded with well-loved furniture. It was far less space than Ambrose was used to, but he’d get an elbow to the neck courtesy of Lark if he said as much. There were so many windows, it was almost as bright as outdoors, which gave the cabin enough breathing room to make him hold his tongue.

“Is all of this necessary?” Silky’s voice came from Ambrose’s other side. He looked down to see she had found her way to the top of his bag. She was so agile, he had been entirely unaware she’d left his shoulder. “It’s only a few days,” she said.

“I had to bully him into bringing only one,” Lark said, making Silky laugh.

Ambrose pouted. “Is it a Heartwood tradition to berate your guests? You may have failed to mention that in your letters.”

“I am afraid it does not take a festival for Silky to get in the spirit of berating guests,” Jaune said, earning a wicked smile from his wife. She easily leaped from Ambrose’s bag to a nearby end table. Jaune pointed to the stairs. “If you want to set your things down, the second floor is yours.”

Taking Lark back into his hands, Ambrose started up the stairs. As he made his way up, not even the rickety creak of the steps could completely cover the voices of their hosts.

“He likely will not use even half of those things,” Jaune murmured. “We should have told them. Less hassle.”

“Shh!” Silky’s voice was a bit harder to catch. “Don’t spoil the surprise. Better to have him hassle a little than ruin everything.”

Ambrose faltered for a moment, then emerged onto the second floor of the cabin. He was briefly distracted by the sight of their accommodations for the visit. The second floor consisted of a small room with a bed, dresser, and several crates used for storage. It wasn’t fully enclosed—the stair railing occupied the space where there would have been a wall. For that reason, Ambrose kept his voice down.

“What do you think they were talking about?” he whispered, setting Lark down by one of the windows.

She stretched her arms over her head, basking in the sunlight. “Maybe we’ll be staying in the village?”

“Darling, I don’t think I’d technically be in.” He cringed at the idea that he might be expected to sleep on a bed of moss or the like outside the village. After all, Silky’s village accommodated only fairy-sized people. It wasn’t like Camveil, with its architecture built for both fairies and humans to live harmoniously.

Whatever the case, he was willing to brave it for Lark. It had been quite some time since they had fairy guests in their home, and he wasn’t about to ruin her opportunity to spend as much time as possible with her own kind.

Less than fifteen minutes later, they joined Jaune and Silky downstairs and began the walk to the village. Ambrose tried not to look too relieved at the promise that it wasn’t a long journey, lest he get teased for it. In no time at all, the trees became more numerous and packed together, a canopy of autumn leaves forming overhead.

Further ahead, Ambrose glimpsed a cluster of positively massive trees. He narrowed his eyes, certain he could see lights and platforms built into the trunks and many of the branches. If he looked hard enough, he was certain he could see movement. Before he could get any closer, Jaune came to a stop at Silky’s command.

“I’ll take Lark from here,” Silky announced.

Jaune dutifully lowered Silky to the forest floor. She walked off his hand and turned to look up at Ambrose expectantly. With reluctance, he dropped to one knee and paused with Lark in his cupped hands. She looked just as perplexed as him.

“Why do we have to separate?” Ambrose asked.

“We need to announce your arrival to the council,” Silky explained, waving her arm for Lark to join her. “It’s the rules. You’ll be signaled once you’re allowed to come. Besides, we need to get Lark looking Heartwood-ready, don’t we?”

Lark all but hopped from Ambrose’s hands. He resisted the urge to catch her. She landed nimbly on the forest floor and joined Silky. “Are… are you saying I’ll get to borrow a gown for the festival?”

“No, not borrow.” Silky looped her arm through Lark’s and grinned. “Anything you get here will be a gift to keep.”

“W-what?”

“It’s the least we can do for all the help in saving Westhelm’s fairies.” Silky nodded up at Ambrose and Jaune. There was something mischievous about her grin. “We’ll see you two soon.”

With that, she led Lark off through the winding trees until they disappeared toward the massive cluster of trees in the distance. Silky was a force to be reckoned with, but that didn’t stop Ambrose from worrying about leaving Lark’s side in an unfamiliar place. After all, she had lived with him for several years, not in nature.

“Don’t worry, they are not far,” Jaune assured, clapping a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder to urge him to stand. Then Jaune offered a more meaningful look. “So. Do you plan to do it during Heartwood?”

Ambrose’s heart stuttered. He cleared his throat and tried to look as confident as he normally was. “Yes. The timing feels right, doesn’t it?”

“Only you can answer that,” Jaune said gently.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ambrose thought about the braided cord tucked away at the bottom of his bag in the cabin. There had been a few close calls when Lark could have spotted it—she nearly did when she was helping him pack lighter. But thankfully, she still seemed entirely unaware.

“Do you think you could look at it later?” Ambrose asked with feigned indifference. “See if I did it right?”

Jaune smiled warmly. “Of course.”

Before they could discuss further, two tiny figures approached on foot from the direction of the village. He flinched, thinking for a second that Lark and Silky had already returned—which meant Lark could have overheard the conversation. But it soon became clear that these two were unfamiliar. One of them threw her hand up and waved.

“Right on time,” Jaune said, his smile looking almost as mischievous as Silky’s had.

“Should I be worried?” Ambrose questioned.

“Not in the slightest.”

One of the tiny figures was winged. The one who had waved was not. The winged one took the other into her arms and carried her up to a branch eye level with Ambrose and Jaune.

“Ambrose,” Jaune said. “These are Silky’s mothers.”

The winged woman crossed her arms. There was something about her critical stare that made Ambrose stand straighter in hopes of making a good impression. Her tone, however, was gentler than he anticipated.

“We’ve heard all about what you did to help Silky when she was captured,” she said. “I am Yew. And this is Camilla.”

Ambrose cocked his head at Camilla. “You weren’t a victim to Miss Clara, were you? Where are your wings?” He winced. “Was that rude to ask? That was probably rude to ask. My apologies.”

Camilla snorted. “I don’t have wings because I wasn’t born with any. I used to be human.”

Eyes widened, Ambrose drew a sharp breath. “You… What? Then, how—?”

“How am I the size of a mouse? Well, sad to say, it wasn’t by choice. Mishap with an angry Fae, you know how it goes.” She smiled and nudged Yew with her shoulder. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Enough about me. We wanted to give you a gift for all you’ve done to aid those poor fairies who were captured. And for having a hand in Silky’s rescue, of course.”

Yew nodded solemnly. “Jaune, it’s time.”

Jaune pulled a drawstring bag from his pocket and handed it to Ambrose. Undoing the knot, Ambrose overturned the contents onto his hand. It was a necklace of sorts—a misshapen hunk of aquamarine wrapped in wire and hung from a leather cord. He frowned. When he’d heard gift, this wasn’t quite what he had pictured, but he tried to be polite about it.

“It’s er… lovely,” he said with a forced smile. “But it’s not really my color, is it?” He half-expected a slap on the neck from Lark, but she was long gone.

Camilla gave a hearty laugh, doubling over. Yew looked less amused.

Chuckling, Jaune held up his arm, revealing a nearly similar amulet tied around his wrist. He undid it and weighed it in his hand. “That is a shame,” he said. “I think mine matches my eyes very well. Go on—put yours on. Then there is a Fae phrase you must say. And don’t worry if you get sick. The same happened to me the first time.”

“The necklace… made you sick.” Ambrose raised his eyebrows, waiting for someone to say he’d misheard. “What are you talking about?”

“Put it on,” Yew insisted. “We haven’t got all day. Heartwood begins soon.”

Ambrose looked amongst the others, who were all staring expectantly. He huffed, slipping the amulet over his head.

Silky didn’t give Lark much time to take in the sights of the village, but it became clear very quickly that village was the understatement of the century. Fenshire had winding paths, shopping squares, and numerous buildings constructed within the massive tree trunks that spiraled together. It was all a blur of bright colors as Silky shooed her into a dress shop.

The gowns inside were a rainbow of different hues, though Lark didn’t get an opportunity to look closely at them, either. Silky tugged her into a corner past some curtains and gestured grandly to three Heartwood gowns hanging off dress mannequins.

“Take your pick,” Silky said brightly. “You can wear a different one tomorrow. You’re taking all of them home, either way.”

Lark’s eyes widened. “Are you sure I don’t need to trade for these? I-I don’t have anything—”

Laughing, Silky waved off her concern. “Do you think we’d make you pay for anything during Heartwood? You’re a guest. An honored one, at that. If you tried to pay or trade, we’d just throw it right back at you. Now, pick.”

Though she was still bashful about accepting such lavish gifts, Lark was drawn to the yellow gown. It contrasted sharply with her blue hair, but something was enticing about its golden hues. Silky didn’t hesitate to remove the gown from the mannequin and help Lark change into it. She steered Lark away from the mirror and began lacing up the back.

“How are things with Ambrose?” Silky asked. “He seems to enjoy pushing your buttons.”

“And I push his right back,” Lark snorted. She softened as she gave the question more thought. “Things are… beautiful,” she said, all but swooning. “It may be hard to tell just from hearing him through his letters, but he has this glow about him now. He detested having to play that horrible persona to buy fairies. Dealing with Clara took a toll on him. Now that he can truly be himself, it’s like a weight has been lifted from him.”

“It couldn’t have been easy,” Silky said. “It’s a good thing he had you to help him.”

She sighed. “I wish I could have done more.”

Before she could settle on that melancholy thought for very long, a voice came from behind the parted curtains: “You made it!”

Lark whirled and spotted a fairy with pink hair. “Valentina!”

Dashing forward, Valentina hugged Lark fiercely. They had not seen each other since parting ways after Clara’s arrest, though Valentina had included some sweet messages in Silky and Jaune’s letters. Her hair was much longer now, braided into a lovely style for the festival.

Another fairy came through the curtains, practically panting as she carried a large wrapped package. Lark recognized this woman too—Nettle. She was one of the scouts who dropped by regularly to help transport fairies that Ambrose and Lark rescued. She was nearly as tall as Silky, sporting her violet locks in a cascading ponytail.

“I almost lost track of you,” Nettle said, raising her eyebrows at Valentina.

Valentina folded her hands behind her back and shrugged, seeming to have a hard time looking directly at Nettle. “I never thought you’d have a hard time keeping up with me.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Don’t get used to it.” Nettle gave her a teasing smile, then turned to Lark. “I’m glad you’ve finally dropped by for a visit! I was hoping I’d get to be the one to give you this. A gift from the community, and a token of appreciation for rescuing the fairies of Westhelm.”

Nettle held out the wrapped package to Lark, bowing her head.

Stiffening, Lark threw a look at Silky. “Another gift?”

Wearing a giddy smile, Silky squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re not thrilled to pieces. Open it!”

She was thrilled to pieces, but it didn’t feel polite to get grabby. Lark accepted the package as elegantly as she could and took a seat on a cushioned bench by the wall. The paper came away easily. A choked noise caught Lark’s throat as she stared at the bundle of sky-blue and indigo cloth on her lap. Fingers shaking, she grasped the edges and held it out, allowing it to unfold.

“Are these… wings?” she whispered.

“They aren’t for flight, of course,” Nettle explained. “But reduced fairies do feel some comfort wearing them. We weren’t sure what color your wings were, but those seem to suit you.”

Lark’s eyes filled with tears and she gave a tiny sob.

“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to,” Silky said quickly. “But they are available and yours to keep.”

Still speechless, Lark glanced at Valentina, who was watching with reverence and wetness in her own eyes. She was wearing prosthetic wings, too. They looked so natural, Lark hadn’t even thought to recall that Valentina had her wings severed by Clara, too. Her wings were gorgeous, like a blend of watercolor splayed upon crystals.

Noticing Lark’s stare, Valentina gave her a teary smile. “I designed my own wings. And yours, too.”

“And she did a beautiful job,” Nettle said, winking. “What do you think, Lark?”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Lark said, her voice thick. “Or… or how to put them on. Can you help?”

At once, the three other women sprang to assist. She held her arms out as they guided the straps onto her shoulders and fanned out the wings until they rested comfortably against her back. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, gaping at the remarkable and impossible sight of her winged self. The tears came faster, along with a little whimper that rattled her shoulders.

“You look radiant,” Silky said, slinging an arm around Lark.

Valentina and Nettle gathered close too, surrounding her in what felt like a protective hug as she broke down into harder sobs. They all murmured their assurances and comfort until her tears were spent. Valentina offered a cloth to wipe the last of her tear trails.

Sniffling, Lark broke into a grin as they stepped back to give her space. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I… I couldn’t have imagined this was waiting for me here.”

“You deserve those wings and so much more,” Nettle said, bowing her head. She gave Lark’s shoulder one last squeeze and backed toward the curtains. “I hate to leave in such a rush, but I have other responsibilities to attend to before the festivities. I’ll see you around.”

Once she was gone, Silky rounded on Valentina. “So… are you two official yet?”

Valentina fiddled with her fingers and shook her head. “Maybe it’ll be a different story by the end of Heartwood,” she said, a warm smile spreading over her face at the thought.

She reached for a rack beside Lark’s gowns and reverently pulled down a monarch butterfly shawl. Draping it over her shoulders and prosthetic wings, she admired herself in the mirror. Lark remembered those shawls were reserved for romantic hopefuls. And Valentina looked very hopeful, with all her wistful looks at Nettle.

“I would have assumed you were already together,” Lark commented, grinning widely when Valentina flushed deeper.

“She was the one who escorted me to Fenshire,” Valentina explained, tucking a stray braid behind her ear. “She carried me the whole way. And now… well, seeing as she was one of my first friends in the village, we’ve gotten quite close. I told her once that I missed exploring the world as a nomad, and she’s been kind enough to escort me on little adventures.”

“Right. And you turn down my invitations,” Silky said, raising her eyebrows.

Valentina snorted. “Your feathers are itchy,” she said simply, then turned a smile toward Lark. “I need to dash too and get my stall ready for the festival. You’ll stop by, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” Lark said warmly.

When Valentina left, Lark examined herself in the mirror again, still stunned by the sight of her wings. She twirled in place and gazed over her shoulder at her reflection. Tears pushed at the back of her eyes again, but she blinked them away.

“When will we see Ambrose again?” Lark said, practically bouncing. “I can’t wait for him to see! After all, he never got to see me with wings at all. And with this gown—he’ll swoon before he knows what hit him.”

Silky grinned and stepped behind Lark to braid her hair. “They should be arriving any time now.”

There was something odd about the anticipation in Silky’s voice, but Lark didn’t have time to analyze it. In no time at all, her hair was braided, and Silky shooed her out of the dress shop. This time, when they went out into the market, Lark was able to have a closer look at the vibrant textiles and opening stalls. However, she was more interested in finding Ambrose. She looked off the edge of a platform, but there didn’t appear to be any humans milling around the nearby trees.

Silky didn’t give her a chance to be disappointed or impatient. She steered Larka away from the railing and escorted her around the markets of Fenshire. The sights, now that she could truly appreciate them, were breathtaking. She stopped each time something caught her eye—which was often—and Silky didn’t stop her.

As the two of them wandered around a cluster of jewelry stalls, someone called out: “Silky!”

The area was getting crowded, but Lark knew that voice as familiar. She peered around and did a double-take. A man was heading their way through the crowd. A man that looked like… no, it couldn’t be.

But as he came closer, she couldn’t deny that she was looking at Jaune. He was the size of a fairy.

Silky ran up to him, allowing herself to be swept into his arms for a kiss. As they broke away from each other, Lark found that they were nearly the same height. Alright, no question about it, Lark thought as the two held hands. That’s Jaune. So where’s—

Someone nearby sidestepped and came up behind her, covering her eyes. She froze as a divine voice whispered in her ear. “I’ve never seen such stunning wings. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Ambrose.

She grabbed his hands away from her eyes and whirled. She had to tilt her head back to see his face. Her breath caught as she wavered on her feet. Their encounter seemed to have the same effect on him. Though she could see him trying to formulate something witty to say, he wasn’t so chatty for once. He only stared, reaching out to delicately brush her jawline with his fingertips.

Finally, he managed a weak chuckle.

“Strange,” he said. “Did the spell not work? You still look quite tiny.”

She couldn’t even think of something to quip back. All she could do was give a cry of delight and throw her arms around him. He hugged her fiercely in return, sweeping her off her feet and spinning with glee as they both laughed.

Lark was glued to Ambrose’s side as they walked hand-in-hand. She peered curiously at his amulet as he explained its magic—at least, as best he could. He figured he was doing an acceptable job, considering it had only been explained to him after the startling realization that he had been shrunk to fairy size.

“It will allow me to be this size for the rest of Heartwood,” he said. “Or, any time we happen to visit, really. It’s charged enough to last a few days.”

“That’s… I can’t believe it,” Lark said breathlessly, her gaze trailing back up to his face for the thousandth time.

He grinned unabashedly. “You can’t seem to stop looking at me. Am I that irresistible?”

“It’s just odd seeing your dumb face so close at this size,” she said, shouldering him.

They stopped at several stalls to put together meals for themselves—traditional dishes that Ambrose had never tried before. Lark and Silky briefly squabbled over what he should try first, until Jaune politely intervened and gave advice on which types of food would be the least alarming for a recently-shrunk human. Once they were satisfied with the food they had gathered, they claimed a sunlit table among the crowd.

Although Ambrose pulled out a chair for her, Lark waited until he had sat down before she claimed his lap and all but draped herself over him.

“There’s plenty of room, you know,” Silky said, wearing a knowing grin from ear to ear. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You certainly won’t hear me complaining,” Ambrose said. He leaned into her embrace as she slung an arm over his shoulders.

They did not move from their seating arrangement throughout the meal. He sampled food here and there at Lark and Silky’s insistence, though he mostly found himself reaching for things to pass to Lark. Even years after reducing her, he had a near-aggressive habit of making sure she had enough to eat. She was skin and bones in Henry Robinson’s care.

“Excuse me,” a timid voice said from behind.

Ambrose turned with Lark on his lap, a pastry halfway lifted to her mouth. A couple of wingless fairies stood a few paces short of the table—familiar faces that made Ambrose do a double-take and drop the pastry entirely.

Lark gasped. “Ayred? Ena?”

“I told you it was them!” Ena said. She hurried forward and clasped Lark’s hands. “Thank you! We never thanked you properly for what you did.” She gave a flickering glance to Ambrose and smiled weakly. “We were so frightened, but… Now we understand the kindness you did for us. There’s no way we could possibly repay you.”

“You don’t have to do a thing,” Ambrose assured. “We’re glad to see you made it here safely.”

“I’m sure the others will be thrilled to see you, too,” Ayred put in. “We’ll let them know you’re here!”

It took Ambrose a moment to fully accept that these two fairies could be so chipper around him. When they had been rescued from Westhelm, they’d wanted nothing to do with him. Strange as it was seeing them unafraid, it brought insurmountable ease to his heart. And here he thought being on an equal scale to Lark was the only reward of the amulet.

“You didn’t tell them we were coming?” Lark asked Silky and Jaune once the two fairies were gone.

“We thought we’d keep it a surprise,” Silky said. “Don’t look now—you’ve got more fans.”

Sure enough, other fairies wearing prosthetic wings approached to visit and thank them. Some felt like old friends. Others, it felt as though Ambrose was having his first real conversation with them. He had always been so focused on getting them to safety, he hadn’t stopped to think about the lives they would build for themselves in Fenshire. They were thriving.

“Look at you, quite the popular one,” Lark teased as they walked hand-in-hand after their meal.

“If only I could be this small all the time,” Ambrose said, chuckling. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to feel so scary anymore.”

He expected a grin at his joke, but instead, something clouded her expression. It faded too quickly for him to discern what the problem was. She didn’t give him time to ask, either. She tugged his hand and led him to the edge of a balcony to take a look at the surrounding forest. Whatever had bothered her seemed to vanish, and he was hesitant to pry.

Long after the sun went down, they continued to explore Fenshire with Silky and Jaune as their guides. Along the way, more familiar faces approached to graciously thank them. The village was more intricate and elaborate than Ambrose could have imagined. Without help, he would have been lost in minutes.

“So, what would you rather do?” Silky asked once they were ready to call it a night. “If you want to stay fairy-sized for the night, you’re welcome to stay in my family’s home. There’s a room for you. Or we can leave Fenshire, and you can take off the amulet. We’d go back to the cabin and return tomorrow.”

Ambrose shared a look with Lark, and he knew at once that she was thinking the same thing as him. “Who knows when we’ll have the opportunity again?” he said, squeezing her hand.

Bashful color spread over Lark’s face, but she nodded readily.

Silky led the way to her old home, arm looped through Jaune’s. Much like everything else in Fenshire, the dwelling had more to it than Ambrose would have assumed. The place was cozy and covered with bright fabrics. Even the bedspread in Ambrose and Lark’s guest room was the loudest shade of yellow he’d ever seen.

After saying goodnight to the others, Ambrose and Lark found themselves alone for the first time since the cabin. After the nonstop sounds and excitement of the day, silence hung around them for a few good moments as they changed into borrowed nightclothes.

“I doubt these will stay on for long,” Lark pointed out.

“Ah, but taking them off is half the fun,” Ambrose said with a cheeky grin, helping Lark out of her prosthetic wings.

Confident as he was in every action and word, he found his face flushing just as much as Lark’s as they both climbed into bed. He rolled over to face her, exhaling softly.

“Hello,” she breathlessly.

He smiled. “Hello.”

He pulled her closer, and she snuggled right into him. Before long, she was on top of him, gazing down at his face. He ran his hands up along her hips and back, pausing when he felt the scars where her wings used to be. She flinched, but she didn’t draw away.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know that’s sensitive.”

She leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “Everything is sensitive right now, love. And you’re welcome to all of it.”

He beamed at her. Within minutes, they tangled together until the loud yellow bed sheets, abandoned night clothes tossed to the floor. They were giggling, breathless, tentative, and daring all at once.

Afterward, Lark stayed curled in his arms while he stroked her hair, marveling at its softness. But strangely, her smile had faded. She was quiet, her expression distant. Worry throttled him. Had he missed something? Some sign that she wasn’t enjoying herself? He thought it had gone beautifully—she had seemed just as thrilled as him.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, alarmed. “Is… is that not what you wanted?”

She looked just as startled, cupping his face with reassurance. “Of course I wanted it! It was wonderful, Amie. Better than I could have imagined.” She gave him three quick kisses on the lips, but her touch strayed to the amulet that still rested around his neck. “And that’s… what worries me.”

“What is it?”

Her voice became smaller. “What if you like things this way too much? You can’t stay fairy-sized forever. I could never ask that of you. Not when you have a life as a human. But… what if… once things are back to normal, it isn’t enough? I’m… not enough?”

“Not enough?” He sat up, looking down at her with wide eyes. “What on earth are you talking about? You are everything. I adore you at any size, whether you fit in my arms or in the palm of my hand. If anything, I… I’m the one who should worry?”

She propped herself up beside him, frowning in puzzlement.

He sighed. “After spending the day out there with fairies, I have to wonder. What if you would have been happier if you agreed to live here instead of staying with me?”

“Ambrose, don’t you dare—”

“I met you when you were caged,” he prattled on. “I never want you to feel trapped with me. If you ever wanted to live here, what I’m saying is—”

“Hush.” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “You’re spouting nonsense, as usual. You’ve given me a beautiful life, and I have no intentions of abandoning it. I wouldn’t trade a single moment with you for anything in the world.”

Embracing her in return, he gently laid her down with him. “I suppose that settles that,” he chuckled, brushing his hand through her soft hair.

“I suppose it does,” she mumbled into his chest, snuggling closer.

The next morning, Lark gave a jolt when she woke up next to him. The instant later, her surprise melted into adoration. She laid her head on his chest and stared up at his slumbering face, wondering what on earth she had done to deserve this beautiful, infuriating man.

His eyes fluttered open after a few minutes. He gazed down at her for a moment with equal reverence before he broke out in a teasing expression.

“See, I told you. You can’t resist looking.”

She hit him with a pillow. Not long after, they were rolling together under the sheets, kissing and feeling until they were satisfied.

By the time they got out of bed, they realized they had slept in, but luckily, it didn’t seem that Silky and Jaune had been up for very long, either.

As they headed out into the afternoon light, Lark frowned as Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. There was discomfort in his expression.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I know that feeling,” Jaune said sympathetically. “Being this size can feel tight at times. Like being in a cramped position for too long. Nothing to worry about. You get used to it, and you won’t feel it at all once you’re human size again.”

“I hardly feel a thing,” Ambrose assured, no doubt spotting the guilt that began to creep into Lark’s expression. He put an arm around her shoulders, careful not to disturb the prosthetic wings that hung down her back. “Besides, wouldn’t it be good payback for all those nights I hugged you a little too tight in my sleep?

She smirked. “In that case, keep that thing on for a few more days.”

The last day of Heartwood began to come alive as they made their way through the festival grounds. Lark noted with delight that Ambrose was once again adorably fascinated by everything. He wandered from stall to stall, and she was happy to pause wherever he was drawn. She just barely coaxed him to sit down long enough for a meal before they were back to exploring again for hours.

“Valentina!” Silky called. She herded Lark, Ambrose, and Jaune toward a stall decorated with breathtaking blooms.

The moment Valentina locked eyes on Ambrose, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. She fiddled with some of the flowers lining the counter. Lark couldn’t blame her, considering her first impression of Ambrose. She didn’t have the same time as Lark to get to know him.

Ambrose’s voice was gentler than usual. “I’m glad to see you’re well, Valentina,” he said. “You look positively radiant.”

“Excuse me?” Nettle seemed to appear from nowhere, dropping one hand on the counter and placing the other on her hip. A pink and orange flower crown lovingly sat atop her head. “It’s my job to tell her that.” Ambrose looked alarmed, glancing at the others for help, but Nettle let out a giggle. “I’m kidding, don’t get worked up. She is radiant, though, isn’t she?”

Valentina cleared her throat, blushing fiercely as Nettle adjusted the butterfly shawl on her shoulders. “Just when I thought none of you would come to visit me,” she said brightly.

The stall was full of flowers and decorations she had made herself, she explained. They were enchanted to hold their vivid colors for months on end.

“Here,” she said, stepping out from behind to stall with several bundles of blooms. She placed a flower crown on each of their heads, fussing over the placement and colors before stepping back and smiling with satisfaction.

“Time to close up shop,” Nettle announced, taking Valentina’s hand. “You promised me the first dance at the bonfire. That is, unless I dreamed it. In which case, I would say this is your opportunity to make my dream come true.”

Valentina laughed, wonderful confidence perching on her shoulders. “In that case, follow me.”

At the mention of the bonfire, Lark’s heart did a tap dance. The last night of Heartwood was a celebration of love in every form. And finally, she would get to experience it with Ambrose.

On the way to the bonfire, Lark noticed Ambrose’s absence from her side. She glanced back and saw him murmuring to Jaune and looking strangely nervous. Before she could look closer into what the problem could be, Silky looped her arm through hers.

“Have a nice time last night?” Silky said with a grin.

Lark returned the smile unabashedly. “That’s putting it lightly.” She peeked back again. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

Silky shrugged a little too innocently. “Human stuff? Who knows?”

They arrived at the bonfire just as it was starting, when the sun had almost entirely dipped behind the trees.

The high-spirited energy of the gathering washed over Lark immediately. She found her way back to Ambrose and held his hand as they gazed around. They had been among crowds of fairies the past two days, but it was different having them all together. Winged and wingless, they were filled with mirth.

Ambrose tugged her along and spun with her into the dancing crowd. She shrieked with laughter as she tried to keep up with him. All the while, her heart thudded at the glee that they were able to dance together for the first time. Valentina and Nettle twirled in and out of view happily, their monarch butterfly shawls fluttering around them.

The songs were devastatingly familiar to Lark. It had been ages since she’d heard traditional Fae instruments and melodies. She hummed along and closed her eyes, letting Ambrose lead her through their dance.

He touched her cheek gingerly, prompting her to open her eyes.

“Do you want to sing?” he said in her ear.

She pulled back, flustered. The look he gave her was so full of anticipation and love, she couldn’t turn him down. He’d heard her sing many times, but never with instruments to back her up.

She opened her mouth and began to sing. Although she could hardly hear herself over the crowd, it wasn’t long before several couples within earshot slowed their dancing and listened. When the first song ended, a musician eagerly asked for which others she knew.

Lark still had her eyes solely on Ambrose three songs later as she sang and swayed with him. Even with so many gazes on her, admiring her, she had no interest in any attention but the man in front of her. She didn’t realize that he could look at her with any more love than he already did.

“I don’t think I can sing another note,” she told him once she had finished another melody.

“And I don’t think I can dance another step.” He kissed the top of her head and held her close. Then, softer, he said, “I do believe I’m ready to be back to my normal size, though.”

The two of them stopped near Silky and Jaune. While Ambrose announced that they would be heading back to the cabin, Lark felt the funny, self-conscious tug at her heart again. But she believed Ambrose when he said he loved her at any size.

Silky and Jaune escorted them away from the bonfire and Fenshire. “We’ll see you at the cabin later,” Silky said, squeezing Lark’s shoulder.

Once they were a safe distance into the woods, Lark moved back to give Ambrose room. He removed the amulet, and right before her eyes, he returned to human size. He rolled his shoulders and sighed with relief.

She had to admit, it was startling to have him tower over her once again.

“Hm. Didn’t work,” he said, kneeling in front of her. An impish smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re still the same size to me.”

She batted his fingers when he reached for her, but she broke into giggles as he scooped her up and peppered her with kisses to make up for the teasing. All the way back to the cabin, she held onto his thumb while the fingers from his other hand stroked her arm.

It was a sense of familiarity she hadn’t realized she missed so much.

Once back at the cabin, Ambrose carried her to the upper level. He set her down on a small end table and headed for his bag. “Hang on—there’s something I need to get.”

“Why do you look so nervous?” she asked, shuffling closer to the edge of the table.

He didn’t answer right away as he dug through his bag. When he apparently found what he was looking for her, he paused and took what she could only assume was a steeling breath.

“Lark, darling?”

“Yes?” She couldn't hide the note of worry in her voice. “What is it, Amie?”

He turned around and held something out to her. Her hands flew to her mouth.

“Is…” She swallowed hard. “Is that…?”

It was a braided cord. Carnation petals and clovers were woven in, along with silvery silken threads that made her think of harps and violins and her other favorite string instruments.

“How… how did you learn to make that?” she asked, tears beginning to well.

“Jaune. He made one for Silky, and he told me all about it.” Though he grinned, his voice wavered. “Never expected a quiet proposal from me, did you? Well, I wanted to make it special. Just you and me. Though, I’ll happily do a public one, too, if that will make you happy.”

“Slow down!” She laughed, tears streaming down her face. “I haven’t even said yes yet! Are… are you sure about this?”

“I’ve been sure for months.” He leaned in with his free hand and tilted her chin up with the back of his finger. “I’m honored to do it at our natural sizes. I fell in love with you this way, and I’ll stay in love with you this way. No matter what.”

She gave a sob, smiling wider.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said softly. Then louder, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Accepting the cord, she allowed herself to be swept into his hands. He kissed her all over, and she knew at once that he was crying too. Neither of them bothered to wipe their tears as they embraced, more certain of anything than they had ever been.

#gt #g/t #giant #tiny #gianttiny #size difference #mywriting #lark #ambrose #jaune #silky #nettle #valentina #commission #heartwood #gt writing #sfwgt #gt fluff #miss clara's charmed jewelry and pets #bittykimmy13 commission

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Eleven: Street Fighter

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Angel, I didn’t think we’d see you tonight,” Magenta greets her, stealing a quick hug.

“I took one more day off, but I was getting bored so I thought I’d come say hi,” Mila replies.

Her hair is down, chin length with yellow bleached tips against the jet-black regrowth; a pixie cut several months grown-out. Her face is bare, her eyes appearing smaller without the heavy lashes and liner, her face rounder without all the contour and blush.

Scully can’t stop staring. She can’t stop the hammering of her heart that seems to be saying Angel. Is. Mila. You. Fucking. Idiot. Mila meanders across the room, stopping to greet people before she finally makes her way to Scully, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey, Desi. You don’t look super stoked to see me.”

Scully shakes her head, her lips rooting for words. “No, I am,” she finally stammers, “I am happy to see you. I just...you look so different.”

Mila chuffs a nervous laugh. “They don’t call it catfishing for nothin’,” she jokes, tucking her silky locks behind her ear.

“Are your eyes a different color?” Scully asks dumbly.

“Yeah, contacts. Maybe you’ve heard of them?” It’s clear that Mila is growing increasingly perturbed by Scully’s response to her appearance.

“M- Angel,” Scully starts, looking at her intensely. “Can we talk, someplace private?”

Mila’s eyebrows furrow in concern and a little confusion, but she nods. Scully stands and takes her hand, guiding her down the hall and out onto the floor. The evening is in full swing now and it’s noisy and dark as she pulls Mila into a VIP room, snapping the curtain shut. She tries not to notice that this is the same one she spent time in with Mulder last night.

Mila stands near the coffee table, eyeing Scully skeptically. “Look, Desi, if you regret what happened that’s fine, we don’t ever have to talk about it again. But you’re acting really fucking weird right now.”

“Are you Mila Chamberlain?” Scully asks, her body postured for a whisper though she’s shouting to be heard over the music.

Mila’s face drains of color as she sucks in a startled breath. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before her lips begin to tremble and tears well in her eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” she spits back at Scully, her body tensing as though she’s preparing for a fight.

Scully holds up her hands in defense. “I’m not here to hurt you, Mila. I’m here to help you. I’m with the FBI.”

Mila’s fear gives way to confusion. “Help me do what?” she asks, wiping the back of her hand across her nose.

“Get out of here, out of Damsels,” Scully offers, but this only seems to confuse Mila more. “Okay, let me start at the beginning. Your parents requested help from the FBI because they believe you’re being held against your will. I was sent here undercover to locate you so we can get you out.”

Mila’s eyes narrow. “My parents?” she asks dubiously, and Scully nods. “My parents, who I told you are awful people, who raised me to hate myself?” Her tone is growing increasingly angry.

Scully’s face falls as she finally pieces it all together. M.C. The conversion therapy. Their kiss. Mila was never being held captive. She was trying to escape.

“Do you know they tried to have me involuntarily committed?” Mila says angrily, nostrils flaring. “If they find me, they’re going to have me locked away. Better a crazy daughter than a gay one, as far as they’re concerned.”

Scully can’t find the right words to say. She doesn’t know what the right thing to do is. She’s found Mila; that’s why she’s here. But Mila doesn’t want to be found.

After watching Scully try and fail to speak for a full minute, Mila scoffs and moves past her towards the opening in the curtain. Before she leaves she turns back and speaks again, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, so much, for your help, Desi. Or whoever the fuck you are.” And then she’s gone.

Scully scrambles for the right next step. This isn’t in any of her FBI handbooks. What do you do when it turns out the victim wasn’t a victim at all? Or that they are, but not of whom you had thought? She needs to talk to Mila again, to understand the situation. She rushes out of the VIP room and looks around, unsure if Mila returned to the back or left out the front. She’s headed towards the bar to ask Queenie if she saw Angel leave when she runs smack into Mulder.

“Sc-Desiree,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders, “I need to talk to you.”

“Not now, Mulder,” she hisses, looking around for any sign of Mila.

“Please, it’s important. Can we go to a private room?”

She raises her arms and pulls his hands down, moving to pass him. “Get the hell out of here, Mulder, I’m working,” she growls.

He catches her wrist, pulling her back to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead lets loose a yelp as Denny’s fist closes around his forearm with a vice grip.

“Time to go,” Denny says in that funny flat affect she’s come to enjoy. As Mulder releases his grip on her, Denny guides him towards the door.

“Desiree! He calls over his shoulder, “tell him it’s okay!”

“Go home,” Scully says with a glare, then heads to the bar as Denny pushes Mulder outside.

“Queenie, did you see Angel go by in street clothes?” she shouts across the rail, and Queenie shakes her head.

Scully is about to go check in the back when a stricken look falls over Queenie’s face, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Scully follows her gaze to the stage, where a moment ago Lexie was doing her set. Lexie is still up there, but so is a tall, muscled man. Lexie is cowering at the base of the pole, her hands covering the back of her head as the man kicks her repeatedly.

Scully instinctively reaches for her weapon, which is decidedly not holstered to her panties, and then scans the room for her bird dogs. Denny hasn’t yet come back from eighty-sixing Mulder. The other bird dog working tonight is nowhere to be seen. She suddenly remembers something Tibet had told her.

“Queenie!” she shouts, and it takes a couple attempts before the woman peels her eyes away from the stage and looks at her. “You have a baseball bat back there, right? Give it to me.”

Queenie lifts a wooden baseball bat from behind the bar and hands it to her with a horrified look on her face. “Don’t do something stupid, Desi. I’m calling the cops.” She turns and picks up the phone as Scully stalks away from the bar, muttering to herself “I think they’re already here.”

As she weaves through the crowd, she sees the other bird dog lying on the floor; his head is bleeding and he appears to be unconscious. She moves to the side of the stage, approaching from behind the man who is assaulting Lexie. Lexie isn’t moving anymore, but that doesn’t seem to deter him as he delivers swift, sharp kicks to her rib cage. In a room full of men, you’d think someone would have stepped up to protect this woman. Instead they all stand around gape-mouthed, looking at one another as though holding a silent vote for who should intervene. Rage swells in her chest as she steps forward and lifts the bat high over her head, bringing it down against the back of his skull with a crack .

He stumbles forward, falling over the tip rail and onto the floor in front of the stage. Ben seems to have finally realized something is going on and the music cuts out abruptly, her ears ringing in the sudden silence.

Scully wants to go to Lexie, but she knows her perpetrator has not been neutralized. She jumps down from the stage and the circle that has formed around the man expands to include her. With the bat in her hand and this outfit, she feels a bit like she’s been teleported into Street Fighter. He is attempting to push up onto his knees and she holds her weapon ready in a batter’s stance. If only Mulder were snuggled up behind her instead of outside in the parking lot, this may be a more fair fight.

“Freeze!” she commands, “federal agent!”

He lifts his head to look at her and laughs derisively before lowering it again.

She realizes how absurd she must look. All five foot three of her, four inch plastic heels and purple underwear, looking like she’s ready to make a run for first base, no badge to flash. Really intimidating, she’s sure.

“I assure you, sir, I am a federal agent and you are under arrest,” she repeats in her most authoritative voice.

He rises quickly, clearly having been exaggerating the degree of his injury, and as soon as she sees him reaching into his jacket she swings again, making contact with his jaw and sending a spray of blood and spit across the gawkers. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t knock him off his feet, and only momentarily delays him drawing his gun and leveling it on Scully. She hears him disengage the safety and she closes her eyes.

Mulder puts up a decent fight, though admittedly more of a verbal one. He’s obstinate, but not stupid, and Denny is probably twice his weight.

“You know the rules, no touching,” Denny is explaining again, blocking Mulder from re-entering the club.

“Look, I understand that, but I know her. She doesn’t care if I touch her. Ask her! Go ask her!”

Denny is unmoved, emotionally and physically. Finally, Mulder accepts defeat and trudges towards his car at the back of the lot. Once he’s pulled the door open, he sees Denny go back inside. He sits heavily, one leg hanging out the open door, and drops his head against the headrest with an exasperated sigh. He’s about to give up and head back to Alexandria when he hears the distinctive crack of a gunshot.

His feet kick up gravel like buckshot as he flies back to the doors of the club, drawing his weapon on the way. His pounding heart is a metronome, keeping time in slow motion as it carries him towards her. As he nears the club, people start pouring out. A steady stream of terrified men scramble haphazardly from the small doorway, and he elbows his way past them, the wrong way, the right way, towards her. He makes his way to the floor, a cacophony of screams and shouts. Gunpowder and whiskey permeate the air and he pushes through the mele, towards her.

Continue Reading Here

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #case file #case fic

[nicolewoo]

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

 After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

 We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

 “Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

 Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

 “I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

 Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

 Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

 I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

 “Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

 “Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

 Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

 Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

 Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

 “Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

 Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

 “Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

 Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

 I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

 “On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

 “An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

 “I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

 “Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

 Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

 Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

  Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you  for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

 Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

 She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.  

 She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

 Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

 I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

 She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

 I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

 Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

 We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.  

 “Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

 She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

 I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

  “I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

 “Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

 “My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

 I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice.  “I said nothing of the kind!”

 “Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

 I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

 “Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

 “I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

 I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

 “My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

 Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

 She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

 @mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire

[kaypeace21]

ignoring the fact that they sound like a married couple arguing, mike and will are also bickering over whether or not el and mike are still together. it was written in the script, rehearsed, performed, and kept in the final cut that will OUTRIGHT SAYS “she said she dumped your ass, that doesn’t sound like a break.” and max yells “it wasn’t!” :@;$:@/&$:&:??!?! they literally said they’re not endgame. they aren’t endgame.

i KNOW right! Based on the s4 movies I think things are reversed and it’s El who can’t accept they are broken up. A lot of films said to inspire s4 have ex gfs refuse to accept the break up -one even hits on her gay ex-bf ( ‘birdcage’ ). Similar scenario in ‘clueless’ with girl hinting on gay guy who just wants to be friends.  Max in s3 having to correct El that Mike is her “ ex boyfriend” and Will saying “that doesn’t sound like a break”. And Max agreeing “it wasn’t!” is foreshadowing they never actually got back together.  IT WASN’T A BREAK! But El may not accept this.

It’s similar, to the random telemarketing joke where they had Mike say on the phone “El, sorry not interested “ and hang up . It was foreshadowing.

In the films the exes constantly call . Mike telling El “i’ll call so often you’ll have to turn your walkie off” was also foreshadowing of what Mike will do to her in s4. Since ,he hung up on her in s3 when she called demanding to know where he was at 9:30 in the morning.  In  ‘swingers’ the guy name mike (whose friends call him ‘gay’)  hangs up on his ex gf who wants to get back together . He hangs up on her so he can talk to his new love interest (Will) . Specifically, Hangs up on his ex as she says  “I love-“. Then in ‘splash’ he breaks up with his gf on the phone and says “do I love you?well what about you?” To dodge the question (then yells at a family member ease dropping on the other line -Karen). And they break up on the phone. And he tells a friend later he never loved her. 

2 movies the ex says they’ll get back together and their new relationships are “just phases” etc ( waynes world,  high fidelity, dumb and dumber). Saying they’re still together when they aren’t  (wayne’s world). Loads of movies had the crazy ex sabotage new relationships, call constantly, stalk, and flirt despite the exes discomfort and repeatedly saying it’s over (despite the ex not loving them and just be possessive and not wanting them with other people).

The exes are cray in the films (el stalking and never apologizing for spying. And mileven dancing to the song ‘every breath you take’ a song about a stalker ex who doesn’t take no for an answer -after their ex hooks up with their friend, wasn’t a coincidence). Along with El watching ‘days of our lives’ where she mimicked erica who was in a relationship with Mike roy. And it ended messy with one of them sabotaging their new relationship, stalking them, and claiming the stalking victim still loved them. (Although, they eventually accepted that wasn’t true).  

El  stalked Mike in s2 (all that stuff milevens found romantic- El watching him without him knowing. Mike said he was not ok with it in s3). And in s3 (like the song) she stalks him after their breakup, and when he said not to do that she just says ‘i make my own rules’. I think s4 shows just how ‘un-cute’ this behavior can get.

 I’ve already talked about that awkward kiss scene to death. But i think it indicates Mike assumes they’re broken up and el assumes they’re back together. 

FIrst he  LIED AGAIN (the cause of the breakup)- and pretended he didn’t confess to her at the end of s3. And never said “ I love you’ back! He even tries to take the words back and  says about the prior love confession “ “Oh! Oh, yeah that.Man, that was so long ago. Um…”  and starts to scratch his head and says everything he said at the cabin was “in the heat of the moment stuff and we were arguing…”

They even frame the scene right before the kiss strangely, making El look larger and imposing, as she approaches. Mike feels cornered (you the viewer subconsciously are supposed to feel claustraphobic/trapped/cornered/stuck along with Mike).

We see him furrow his brows (uncomfortable and confused ) when El initiates the romantic moment, saying “I love you too.”

 And cue most awkward kiss in history- where he keeps his eyes open the whole time and doesn’t kiss back. (In Will’s room, mike in front of an open closet, as el holds Will’s s1 bear.)

 During the kiss, the song ‘the first i love you ‘played. The only other time they played that song in s3,  was when Robin rejects Steve’s  romantic confession and she comes out as gay . Interesting choice for that awkward mileven kiss/confession shown later where El says she loves Mike (and mike keeps his eyes open, doesn’t kiss back or return the ‘I love you’). It’s foreshadowing of Mike rejecting El (in the future) cause he’s gay.

We even see El’s reaction first (happy, smiling and giddy). Assuming they’re back together. But then we blur the screen to see Mike’s opposing expression. He looks confused, bewildered and even furrows his brows again.

Then we see El initiating all the romantic stuff outside.El seems to be the one trying to make it romantic- like Mike hugging el and lucas with one arm identically (hand on their upper back), but El caresses his chest.

And as Mike stops the hug El shoves his head into hers (it actually looked like it hurt honestly XD)

the byler centric ending with the Hopper monologue reinforces this theme. Mike while looking at both cars driving away was thinking of Will . They show this by having Mike be sad as Will drives away (alone) twice as Mike  sadly watches him leave- this was done to show that he’s actually upset the 2 later times where Will and El leave at the same time -because of Will. I showed it in one of my vids here, at 23:11

When we first see Mike during the Hopper monologue , it continues to pan to only Mike and Will (not El) cause what he says is mostly about them. “I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like you’re pulling away from me or something” (Will does this both figuratively/literally). I miss playing board games every night (d &d)”. Then Mike looks back at the Byers house (he just lingers there and looks back as his friends leave without him) like how Will turned to watch Mike leave and hold hands with El  (as the crew  go up the hill without Will).  “But I know you’re getting older, growing, changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change.”

It pans to both of them on  “i don’t want things to change’ cause that’s how they both feel. Mike , ‘doesn’t want things things to change’. He doesn’t want their friendship to change as they ‘get older’ because he’d have to and acknowledge his feelings for Will are romantic and if he’s “being honest” that “scares” him (especially in rural 80s conservative-Indiana at the height of the aids epidemic).  Why we see Mike trying to act like a adult while dating El, and Will trying to act like a kid- they’re both trying to escape  growing up to be gay in different ways. Will reverting to childhood activities and saying he’ll ‘never fall in love’ (after his double date with lumax). And Mike trying to act like “old people’ saying “we’re not kids anymore... what did you expect that we’d never get girlfriends?” Cause he equates straight romance with being an adult and his feelings for Will as something he has to grow out of . Which he learns in the very end isn’t possible.

Right after that scene it switches from Will crying,  to Mike entering his house. His face is visibly red from crying and he looks shocked (almost as if he realized something) before he hugs his mom- to mirror the time he thought Will died in s1. 

And the dialogue in this scene says “So I think maybe that’s why I came in here, to try and maybe stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were.” He goes back to his mother for comfort, like he did the 1st time he lost Will. But also to reverse back time, to s1, before he realized his feelings for Will are romantic.  When things were simple. I think the last episode is when Mike truly realizes he’s been in love with Will this entire time and he can’t fix it and transfer his feelings for Will on to el (something he’s been trying to do all of s3). El said he loved him and he felt nothing-and he was heartbroken over Will leaving (not El). Which is why he just seems almost shocked/numb as he’s processing this fact. This whole scene only showed Mike and Will transitions- el was never there, cause Mike wasn’t upset over her.

In the last ep (in s3) Mike mirrors the scene in s1, hugging his mom, since he feels like he’s losing Will all over again. In s1 the romantic/queer coded lyric from the song ‘We can be heroes’ plays as he hugs his mom “And we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.”. And during the s3 move  (‘we can be heroes’) plays again!  And David Bowie wrote this song and Jonathan even said to Will  in his ‘being a freak is the best speech’ “who would you rather be friends with David bowie (a queer singer) or Kenny Roggers?”

It’s why finn wolfhard after s3 liked this byler pic. cause s3 was all about Will and Mike denying their feelings for each other.

Not to mention,After s1 Finn quoted the  Duffers saying Mike thought of El as a “puppy’ (dart) or “et” , and then said  Mileven was a  “first summer love thing”- foreshadowing mileven’s downfall during the Summer (aka s3). He repeats this “first summer love” phrase 2x.  Millie when he mentioned what the duffers said rightfully thought the puppy thing was “awful”, but Finn was clearly told mileven doesn’t last -very early on- and most likely the Duffers told him “it’s like a first summer love thing”.Summer love” by definition fails-as it only lasts during the summer.

#byler #byeler #anti mileven

[neocityarchive]

blind love | l.m.k.

— in which mark lee is so much more than just your best friend but you were too blind to realize it.

word count: 7.2k | warnings: light swearing | blind love - lola young |

a/n: i didnt mean for it to be this long but i hope you enjoy!!!

“Just friends,” Mark said, his voice still steady even in the growing tension of the moment. “That’s all you said we are, right?”

Your head dropped down to look at your hands, not knowing what to say. The overbearing guilt of rejecting his sudden confession was crushing your chest that it became painful to breathe.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” was all you could say. You forced yourself to meet his gaze through your already glassy eyes, wanting to let him know the sincerity of your words.

He smiled kindly, shaking his head. There was sadness in his eyes. And in all the years you two have known each other, you could tell how hard he was trying to hide it. “It’s okay. That’s all we’ll be.”

You bumped your head repeatedly against your study table in an attempt to rid yourself of the memory that’s constantly been playing in your head. 

It was a Sunday which meant there were no classes, which meant the university was closed, which meant that you couldn’t even make an excuse to see your best friend Mark who somehow, after almost three years of friendship, suddenly decided that it was a good idea to tell you he loves you more than a friend should love a friend.

You couldn’t say it happened out of nowhere. He’s been saying he has something important to tell you for almost two weeks before the incident but every time you confront him about it, he always makes up some lame excuse to dodge. It took a lot of self-hate for yourself and a nice amount of his protective instinct to finally make him spit it out. 

He came to your apartment that night, finding you barefaced, wearing a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies that you stole some time ago. From that he already knew you weren’t okay. You like wearing his stuff to seek some sort of comfort. Somehow, the smell of his clothes helps calm you down.

You were supposed to help him finish a report but you couldn’t concentrate after getting a below satisfactory grade on a major exam. College has done nothing but give you a shitload of insecurities lately and this just pushed you off the edge. The only thing that has been keeping you sane was the knowledge that you had someone who you can run to at the end of the day. Someone who is willing to listen to your rants and would do almost anything to cheer you up.

That day, however, none of Mark’s usual encouragement worked on you. He was getting frustrated hearing you downplay yourself because of a single exam. You started going on about how stupid you felt, how staying up all night to study did nothing but make you ugly. Mark countered every insult you threw at yourself, throwing in a few jokes here and there, all of which you ignored. But when you went on about how all of this made you unworthy of anything, how no one could possibly love you in this state, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I love you,” he snapped, cutting you off from your long self-deprecating speech. 

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say that,” you whined, clearly missing the point.

Mark, on the other hand, was barely holding it all inside. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “No, idiot. I love you. Stop saying no one could love you, because I do. And not just because you’re my best friend.”

It wasn’t until you noticed his hands were quivering that you realized what he really meant. Looking back on it, you couldn’t help but hate yourself. You were sure it took a lot of his courage (and frustration) to come clean to you like that, and you couldn’t even take him seriously at first.

“Mark, no,” you remember telling him.

“I do. I hate that I do, but I do.” He looked away. “I love you and I know you’re feeling burdened right now, but you don’t have to say it back.”

A part of you broke that day. You hated rejecting people after having gone through several rejections yourself. It’s the worst feeling. You always wished there was a way you could always return people’s feelings just so no one would get hurt, but the universe just doesn’t work that way.

You muttered about a hundred sorries to which Mark replied a hundred ‘it’s okay’s. Maybe it was meant to make you feel better, but it just felt like your heart was getting ripped off your chest.

Mark didn’t stay long after that. You didn’t even get to help him with his report. He said sorry for suddenly dropping the L-word and you said sorry for not being able to say it back. He smiled sadly and it took your everything not to cry. He asked if he could hug you and you didn’t even answer. You just went straight into his arms, burying your head in his chest like you’ve done so many times before, breathing heavily to keep yourself from breaking down. And when the two of you pulled away, he insisted on being alone for a while. You said okay followed by another sorry.

You didn’t know “being alone for a while” meant ignoring you for god knows how long. You see him at uni but he wouldn’t even meet your eye. Even when you share the same class, he would choose to sit as far from you as possible. Once, he entered a cafe you were in and upon seeing you inside, he immediately turned around and walked away.

He’s ignoring you and he isn’t even being subtle about it. Mark Lee could never be subtle about anything, not even his feelings. You really were just too blind to realize anything.

Even other people saw how he felt. People used to come up to you all the time and ask about your “boyfriend” Mark. Sure, you would blush, shy that people thought you’re in a relationship with your best friend. When you explain that you weren’t actually dating, you would get the same shocked reaction every time. One of your friends even said you acted more like a couple than most people in a relationship do. You always thought it was just because you and Mark were such good friends.

“Friends don’t hold hands in public,” you remember Renjun saying.

“We don’t hold hands. He just grabs me and drags me to places,” you said defensively.

“And they don’t hug each other and stare at each other’s eyes while talking about pizza,” Jaemin scoffed.

You just rolled your eyes at them. It never crossed your mind that maybe they were right. You and Mark have never acted like how friends should. Maybe it’s the reason why you’re in this mess after all.

You sighed to yourself. You miss him. You can’t even pretend that you don’t. He’s become such a huge part of your everyday life that you couldn’t just ignore the sudden empty space he left when he said he wanted to be alone. You know he needed time to be by himself. But a part of you keeps holding on to his promise that even after his confession, you two would still be friends. And friends text each other, right? So all your attempts at communication depended on just that.

Thursday, 5:31 PM

You: wanna go watch a movie? i’ll buy the tickets.

Mark: cant. i have an exam tomorrow. sorry :/ maybe next time?

You: oh. okay. goodluck on your exam :)

Friday, 2:21 AM

You: [photo] this is possibly the cutest cat photo i’ve seen in awhile

Mark: that’s cute but dogs are still cuter

You: … okay?

Mark: go to sleep, y/n

Friday, 12:03 PM

You: i know you dont have class rn. have lunch w me?

Mark: oh i already ate with jaemin. sorry!!

You: it’s okayyyy :>> i’ll see u later? it’s friday night sooo we can hang out.

Mark: idk the boys already asked me to go out tonight

You: oh okay have fun!

Saturday, 6:54 PM

You: maaaark

Mark: y/nnn

You: [types] i miss you kajdhfhdksjdh [deletes]

You: nothing haha wanna grab some coffee?

Saturday, 7:01 PM

You: nvm haha have a nice nighhhttt

Sunday, 10:21 PM

You: hey can we talk

Mark: ???

You: please?

Mark: ye what about?

You: you said we’d still be friends

Mark: lol aren’t we?

You: this isn’t how friends talk to each other. i miss having an actual conversation with you.

You: we dont even see each other anymore.

Mark: i literally reply more to u than i do to jaem wdym haha

You: wow fine okay

Mark: ?????

You: i guess i deserve that haha

Mark: im tired y/n. night.

You: :( nighttt

You checked your messages for the nth time, reading everything as if something was gonna miraculously change with the cold conversation thread. Your fingers have been hovering over the keypad, typing and deleting ‘i miss you’ and ‘talk to me’ for about a hundred times already.

You don’t get why you can’t just say it. What’s so wrong with telling your best friend you miss him? Why is it so hard to press send? Why are you suddenly so afraid of how he would reply or if he would even reply at all?

It was only 10:30 in the evening. You know for sure Mark is only lying about going to sleep. He never sleeps this early unless he really is tired. He does nothing on Sundays so he can’t possibly be tired. Sundays are usually just the two of you hanging out in his apartment or yours, just to watch movies or study together. So what did he do today?

“Stop thinking about him,” you grumbled to yourself. “It’s just Mark. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

But that’s not the point, a voice inside your head said. Just tell him you miss him.

You typed it again, ‘I miss you,’ but deleted it as soon as it was finished. Again. 

You’ve spent everyday with Mark that it suddenly hurts to think he’s enjoying the time you usually spend together alone. It’s crazy how you can’t stop thinking about how his day went or if he’s okay or whether he’s eaten or not. You know how stubborn he can be. Sometimes, he’d get so engulfed in whatever he’s doing that he would accidentally skip meals unless you remind him otherwise. 

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself. You figured you won’t ever be left at peace if you don’t do anything about whatever you’re feeling, so you decided to text Jaemin.

Sunday, 10:52 PM

You: jaeeem hi :)

Jaemin: y/n!!!!! hello :>

You: sorry for bothering you but have you talked to mark lately?

Jaemin: im talking to him rn haha why? you want me to ask him something?

You: not really hahaha how is he?

Jaemin: haha why not ask him yourself

You: he doesnt wanna talk to me lol pls just answer

Jaemin: he’s stubborn as always. he wont listen to me.

You: why, what’s he doing?

Jaemin: idk but it’s definitely not talking to you ksjdjkd

You: … very funny

Jaemin: sorry lmaooo he’s running on an hour or two of sleep everyday

You: jaemin!! why won’t you scold him?

Jaemin: we do! he just doesn’t listen. u know he only listens to you.

Jaemin: idk why you guys still arent together lmao bunch of idiots tbh

You: we’re just friends

Jaemin: rlly? oh btw mark hyung is looking for his save the bees shirt. did u see it anywhere?

You: yeah he left it here like two weeks ago when he slept over

Jaemin: LMAOOO DOESNT SOUND LIKE FRIENDS TO ME CHIEF

You: i fckingskjfhfn hate you

Jaemin: HJSJSHHDJD ok but seriously tho mark hyung is fine. just give him time, he’ll come around.

Jaemin: he misses you but u didnt hear it from me

Jaemin: ok bye he’s getting suspicious now lol

You: idk how you’re both an angel and the devil at the same time

You: anw thanks jaem. dont tell him i asked about him lol byeee

You sighed, putting your phone down in surrender. Your mind was more of a mess now than it was before you talked to Jaemin. You hate that he makes sense especially about the weird, more-than-friendly dynamics of your relationship with Mark. But more importantly, your head was beginning to be overfilled with worry.

Mark runs on barely two hours of sleep everyday. No wonder he always looks so out of it whenever you see him in the hallway. You wanted to call him, to tell him that he should sleep already, to remind him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, that doing just enough is okay. But you know he doesn’t want to talk to you. The cold replies and the ‘????’ were more than enough to tell you that.

Still, you figured it was worth a try sending him a little reminder. So you grabbed your phone once again and typed a message, revealing a little more of your emotions than you intended to. And before you could even think twice about it, you hit send.

Sunday, 11:04 PM

You: hey i know you’re still not asleep. dont worry, you dont have to reply to me. i just wanna tell you that you should take care of yourself. i know you. you’re stubborn and sometimes you won’t sleep or eat unless someone reminds you to so,, this is me reminding you haha. stop overworking yourself mark, please? you cant be sick cause i cant take care of you since you wont talk to me… lol jk. but seriously, get more rest (and talk to me,, hahah jk again unless u wanna ;)) please go to sleep now. goodnight. see you around i guess.

You stopped texting Mark after that. You wondered if he would find the initiative to talk to you first if you didn’t start the conversation. Now, two days have passed and your sleep reminder remains to be the last message on your conversation thread. You couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. You were hoping for at least a small thanks but didn’t get anything at all.

You were starting to get more and more frustrated as the days went by. It’s so unfair that you are slowly losing your best friend because of this. It’s unfair that you can’t even be mad at him because you just broke his heart. You wished there was any way you could have changed what happened, but the past remains to be written.

That afternoon, you passed by one of the cafes you and Mark always go to. You went inside, suddenly craving their special banana muffin which he introduced to you some months ago. The owner recognized you right away as you came up to the cashier.

“You’re not with your boyfriend today?” she asked.

You felt your heart skip a beat and not in a good way. It hurt. You figured there was no use in explaining since she probably won’t believe that Mark is not your boyfriend so you just smiled sadly and answered, “No.”

The lady somehow talked you into buying two muffins so you can bring one to your “boyfriend.” After handing her your payment, you realized maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Mark always brings you stuff whenever you’re mad or upset. He knows exactly what you’re craving for even before you knew you were craving for it. Why not try if it works on him?

As soon as you headed out the cafe, you whipped your phone out to text Jaemin, asking if he knew where Mark was. It’s Tuesday, his most free day of the week so he could be anywhere. Jaemin replied not after five minutes.

Jaemin: not sure but he mentioned something about the library??

You: okay thank you!

From that, you knew exactly where Mark is. There was a small patio-like spot beside the library that he likes going to. Not a lot of people utilize the place since the tables and chairs are almost always filled with dried fallen leaves from the surrounding trees but Mark likes the thought of being close to nature.

That day though, there were more people around the area than usual. It was lunchtime so most people were out of the classrooms. Still, it wasn’t hard spotting Mark. It has never been much of a challenge finding him in a crowd of people. You saw him as soon as he came into view, sitting by the table on the corner under one of the ginkgo trees. He had his laptop open and a box of food beside it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration one moment and then he was laughing the next. 

You were about to make your way towards him but immediately stopped in your tracks when you realized he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t know who the girl was. You’ve seen her a lot of times in class and in the hallway. You even have a vague memory of Mark talking to her one time. But you never really bothered to learn her name. She had that soft, innocent look that goes so well with her shy smile. She had her hair tucked in her ears to show just enough of her pretty face. She was beautiful. Unconventionally but undeniably. But none of that mattered.

When she said something with a smirk and Mark let out his trademark laugh, nose scrunching, hand repeatedly hitting the table, shoulders shaking and all, it felt like something punched you in the stomach. He uttered something in reply and now both of them are clutching their sides for laughing too hard. 

He looks happy, you thought, I should be, too.

But you aren’t. You continued watching their exchange, him showing her something on his laptop and both of them laughing once again. Your chest felt heavy, like something was sitting on it and now it hurts to breathe. You didn’t realize you’ve been clutching the plastic bag containing the muffin too hard until you felt the sting of nails digging on your palms. You knew you should look away but you couldn’t. You wanted to run towards him. You wanted to tell the girl to scooch over so you can sit beside Mark and give him his muffin.

This is pathetic. I should be happy for him, you said to yourself. But why am I not?

You wanted to be angry, to scream and say that it should be you he’s laughing like that with. To say that it’s you he should be spending his time with. You wanted to ask if he still feels the way he said he does about you. And if he does, then why this? But you remained glued to the ground.

You hated how you were being selfish. You rejected him, remember? So why do you expect him to follow your tails like an intoxicated mad dog? Why can’t you be happy at the possibility that he found someone that feels the same way he does? Why does it… hurt? It’s not supposed to. If you really are friends, then him being happy with someone after your rejection should make you happy as well. If you really are friends, then you shouldn’t be standing here looking stupid, watching them from afar, wishing he’s with you instead.

“What are you looking at?”

You jumped at the sudden disruption, almost dropping your muffins. “What the hell, Jaemin?!” you whined, finally looking away from Mark.

“Mark hyung and Mina?” he snorted.

So that’s her name. “No,” you lied, forcing yourself to take a step away, then another, then another.

“Are you jealous?” Jaemin teased. “Have you finally realized you’re also whipped for our hyung?”

“No,” you grumbled.

“Then why are you almost crying?” 

You blinked. You didn’t even realize the tears pooling in your eyes. Why are you being like this? “Shut up. I’m not.”

Jaemin only shrugged. “Fine. Torture yourself, then.” He smirked. “By the way, Jeno and I are inviting people to our place this Friday after exams. Just some drinks and maybe karaoke, I don’t know. We all deserve a break from hell. Wanna come?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was too preoccupied with other things.

“Mark hyung is coming,” he said. “Maybe Mina too.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you said immediately, suddenly coming up with a decision.

The boy laughed. “You are jealous! God, I love it when you prove yourself wrong. You shouldn’t be though. You already know he likes you.”

“I’m not jealous! Stop it,” you whined, really wanting to cry this time. Everything is so frustrating and Jaemin is not being of any help. You wanted to go home and just wrap yourself in your blanket and maybe one of Mark’s hoodies.

“Then come to our place this Friday. It’s gonna be fun.” He grinned.

“Fine. Whatever. Just get away from me, you little shit,” you said, kicking him lightly in the butt.

You didn’t know if it was a lie or not but if Mark really is seeing someone now, you just didn’t like the idea of seeing them flirt with each other in front of your eyes. Even the thought of it makes you want to pull all your hair out. Is that considered jealousy? If so, why are you feeling it for someone who’s supposed to be just a friend?

Thursday came and you found yourself crying after realizing the shirt you’ve been wearing the whole day was Mark’s. No wonder he looked surprised seeing you in the hallway. He looked away immediately though, acting as if you weren’t there. It didn’t even cross your mind since you use this shirt quite a lot.

After calming yourself down, you put your playlist on shuffle and cried some more after Friends by Ed Sheeran started playing. You didn’t even realize how fitting the song was for your situation until now. Mark probably did.

You remembered him singing that song once. The two of you were just lounging in his apartment. He was playing his guitar while you pretended to study when in reality you were just looking at him. You watched as his fingers plucked and strummed the guitar strings while he softly mumbled lyrics, head bobbing to the tune. He’s good. Unsurprisingly, since he’s good at everything.

When he realized you were staring at him, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes, one side of his lips curling up into a smirk. “No, my friends won’t love me like you do,” he sang. 

You looked away, your cheeks heating up almost immediately. It was hard to focus on your readings when he’s sitting right in front of you looking like that, singing like that. You sighed. He truly was never being subtle about how he felt.

After finishing the song, Mark put his guitar down and laid his head on your lap, not even bothering to ask if it’s okay. That’s how comfortable you were with each other.

“What are you doing?” You remember whining.

“Wake me up after 15 minutes,” he said, already closing his eyes. You took a photo of him that night. He’s cute when he’s asleep. Even cuter when you look at him up close. 

Of course, you just had to search your camera roll to find the photo. When you did, it felt as if a storm was raging on your stomach and a gorilla was pounding on your chest. It never dawned to you just how much it hurts that he suddenly left you alone until that moment.

“Goddamn, I miss you so much,” you muttered, looking at his peaceful expression in the photo.

And then you cried some more. You feel lost.

All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms and inhale his scent and listen to how his day went (and maybe accidentally fall asleep together). It sucks because you really had no one else to turn to. The single person who has always been your safe place doesn’t want to talk to you and even if he did, you really wouldn’t know what to say. Perhaps friends really aren’t like that. The thought of everyone being right when they said that maybe you and Mark were never really just friends has never been stronger than it was tonight.

Still, you couldn’t be bothered to sort your feelings out.

He feels like home, you thought. It was the best way to explain the sense of comfort and safety and the feeling of being more than enough that he provides you. It’s the only thing you can think of when your mind drifts to how he is always the constant person that you run to at the end of the day. But friends can feel like home, too, right?

Not to this extent. Not really.

Friday. You found yourself aimlessly roaming around the neighborhood after your classes in the hopes of distracting yourself from your feelings or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be called. You wouldn’t have remembered Jaemin’s party if you didn’t happen to pass by their apartment building.

You stood in front of it for two solid minutes, contemplating whether to go or not.

Mark might be there, you thought. With everything that’s going on in your head and with all the mess happening in your chest, would it really be a good idea to see him? You thought maybe all these things you’re feeling are just a result of missing him. All these sadness and confusion might just be because you miss your best friend.

So you entered the building. You told yourself that you’ll try talking to him again this time, no matter how stubborn he’s going to be. And if it still doesn’t change anything, then you will take it as a sign to let him go. If not forever, then at least for now.

You reached the door to Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment. Even from the outside, the sound of the bass can already be heard. You wondered how long before the neighbors would file a complaint against them, but knowing Jaemin and Jeno, their neighbors are probably inside, partying with them right now.

Before entering, you looked down on your chest just to make sure you were wearing your own shirt and not Mark’s. It didn’t feel right wearing his stuff anymore. God, it really felt like you just broke up. Why is it like this?

You took a deep breath and opened the door. There were already a lot of people inside even if it was just 8 in the evening. Most of them, you know the faces of. You smiled to greet some and muttered a hi to others.

Renjun spotted you as soon as you came into the living room. “Y/N!” He grinned, handing you a cup of god knows what. “Jaemin said he invited you but we were all pretty sure you were gonna ghost us. But you didn’t!”

You laughed hesitantly. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Drink up. It’s a cocktail I made myself,” he said proudly, almost forcing the cup into your mouth.

You took a sip, figuring it won’t do any harm but you spat the liquid back to the cup as soon as it touched your tongue. “What the hell did you put in this?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just mixed in everything I could find. Thanks for trying it out though. I’ve been looking for a volunteer for five minutes already.”

You frowned. There were a lot of things you were unsure of at the moment but there is one thing that’s certain: you have weird friends. You were about to complain to Renjun when he plucked the cup from your grip and went on to find another victim, not even bothering to listen when you said you literally spat on the cup.

Mark didn’t seem to be anywhere. The apartment wasn’t that big so if he was here, it would be easy to spot him. Maybe he decided not to show up after knowing you were coming. And honestly, part of you was relieved. As much as you wanted to talk to him, you still didn’t know what to say. 

I’m sorry I broke your heart, but I miss you so much and I did a lot of thinking and maybe we really shouldn’t be labeled as just friends but I don’t know if I love you, is that okay? That’s just stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

You wanted to leave. Parties have never really been your thing. You usually just go because Mark asked you to since he loves interacting with people. But you figured you needed some alcohol in your system, mainly as a distraction, but also to give you a boost of courage just in case. So you made your way to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone as much as possible.

You stopped in your tracks as you came to the kitchen. The sound of that laugh was all too familiar.

Great, you thought. Mark was there. And Mina was too. But so were Jeno and Jaemin who exchanged looks as soon as their eyes landed on you. They were all laughing about something before you came.

“You’re here!” Jaemin said a little too enthusiastically in a poor attempt to address the sudden increase of tension in the room.

“Hi,” you said, smiling sheepishly, purposefully avoiding Mark’s gaze which you could feel boring into you. “Just gonna get a drink.”

“Help yourself,” Jeno said. Jaemin smirked beside him. 

The refrigerator was just beside Mark. Just great, you thought again. You walked towards it, desperately trying to ignore the four pairs of eyes following your every move.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, still not looking at your best friend.

Mark took a step sideways before opening the fridge for you. You muttered a quick thanks before grabbing the first bottle your hands landed on, not even bothering to check what it was. You really just wanted to get out of there. Maybe the talking to Mark plan was flawed from the beginning because you clearly can’t find the courage in you to face him now.

Beside you, Mark clicked his tongue. He was so close that you could smell his perfume mixed with a bit of alcohol. It made your knees weak. 

He took the bottle from your hand and put it back before grabbing a different one and handing it to you. “The other one had vodka. Vodkas give you a headache, remember?” he said in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small even to your own ears. Not gonna lie, you wanted to cry at that moment. “Thanks.”

You could hear Jaemin snickering behind you but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. You turned to everyone and said a quick goodbye before dashing out of the kitchen.

Your heart was beating hard and rapidly and not because you moved too fast. You didn’t know why but it hurt seeing Mark like that, like he was okay, like nothing changed with the two of you. It hurt knowing that even after everything, he still knows you the best.

You wanted to run. You wanted to disappear. But you couldn’t leave without passing by the kitchen. Somehow, you know someone in there would stop you. If not Mark, then definitely Jaemin. But you really wanted to be alone. So you resorted to the next best thing. You whipped your phone out and sent Jaemin a text.

You: thanks for inviting me to this party. now i feel like shit :D

Jaemin: IM SORRY BUT DONT LEAVE YET TF

You:  i need to be alone and i cant leave without passing by the kitchen and seeing mark. so pls let me use your room for a while.

You: i wont do anything i promise. i just need to calm down.

Jaemin: fine but dont lock the door

You: okay thanks

The door to Jaemin’s room was at the other end of the apartment. You made your way through the noisy crowd, slipping from Renjun’s weird gimmicks when he tried to make you a victim once again, before finally reaching the quiet confines of Jaemin’s room.

The thin walls barely blocked the noise but at least there was no one else here. You sat at the edge of the bed and placed the beer bottle on the floor. You forgot you didn’t even manage to open it. So you just stared at your feet, trying to catch your breath even if you didn’t do anything. That heavy feeling on your chest was back again. It was now associated with being in Mark’s presence.

You started counting to ten to calm yourself down before burying your face on your palms, breaking down into sobs as soon as your forehead came in contact with your fingers. “God, why can’t I just…” you cried, “... admit it to myself already?”

You wanted to thrash around in the bed in frustration but you thought Jaemin didn’t deserve such a mess so you settled with getting up and lightly banging your head against the door. It’s a bad habit you do when you feel annoyed or frustrated. Mark has always been reminding you to stop before you hurt yourself.

Mark. Again. You groaned, hitting your head a little harder this time.

Someone knocked on the door making you stop. You took a step back, thinking you just imagined it. But there it was again.

“Someone’s here,” you said, trying to hide the sound of your voice breaking.

“I know. Can I come in?” It was Mark. There was no question. 

Your heart started pounding on your chest once again. You wanted to tell him to go away but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. 

He took your silence as a yes. He swung the door slightly and poked his head through the small opening. Your hands immediately flew to your face to hide the fact that you’ve been crying.

“You know, I came in here because I didn’t wanna see you when I pass by the kitchen if I leave then you come here making me look like a clown,” you said, your voice muffled by your hands.

Mark chuckled softly. “Why didn’t you wanna see me?”

You didn’t reply. Your face felt hot, not just because of the tears that just won’t stop falling but also because all the blood has come rushing to your cheeks.

Mark grabbed both your wrists and gently lowered your hands down, trying to see your face, but your head bent down as soon as it wasn’t covered. “Y/N, look at me,” he said, hands still on your wrists.

“No.”

“Are you crying?” The idiot crouched down to have a glimpse of your face making you whine and cover your face again. “Last I checked, I should be the one looking brokenhearted around here.”

“God I hate you,” you mumbled. “You ignored me for nearly four weeks and you come in here just to make fun of me.”

He let out an empty laugh. “Well, you did break my heart so…”

At that, you removed your hands from your face to look at him. You were going to say sorry but Mark had that smug look on his face that made you want to punch him. It was almost convincing if you weren’t so good at reading the real emotions in his eyes. His expression softened upon finally seeing you properly.

He looked away, not being able to hold your gaze either. That just confirmed how hard he was trying to keep up with the exterior he was showing everyone.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice breaking.

He sighed.  “I told you. It’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” you cried. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t realize how easy it was to misread what we had because let’s face it, we don’t act like ‘just friends.’ I’m sorry because I was too blind to see how you felt even when you weren’t really trying to hide it. I’m sorry because even though I rejected you, I was so selfish that I still wanted to keep you for myself without realizing that you probably needed to be away from me to move on. I’m sorry because…” you swallowed.

Mark was just looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of what you were going to say next. You missed him. You missed that cute face of his. You missed being in his presence. You missed his voice and his laugh and how he loves teasing you even if he probably feels like shit inside. You missed everything. Four weeks have been too long without each other. Four weeks is too long without your best friend. Four weeks is too long without your home. And that’s when you realized…

“... I can’t let you go. And I might be too late, but I’m sorry that I only just realized why.”

“Why?” he asked. 

It was a simple question. Why? Yet it managed to carve out every single feeling you’ve ever felt for this boy. Every little moment he made you laugh. Every small heartbreak you get when he fails to keep his tiny promises. Every single night you ‘accidentally’ fell asleep next to each other. Every ounce of fulfillment you get when you finally convince him to sleep after a long day. Every goodnight. Every good morning. Everything.

“I love you,” you said. It sounded almost like an exhale.

For a moment, Mark didn’t reply. Your head immediately started swarming with unwelcomed thoughts. Maybe you were too late. You almost forgot about Mina who he seems to be having an excellent time with. Maybe he managed to move on within those four weeks. It’s possible, right? You had your chance and you missed it. 

Finally, Mark let out a laugh, his head falling down to look at the floor. “I told you you didn’t have to say it back,” he said, voice soft.

You shook your head. “I’m not saying it because you said it first,” you said. “I realize this might be the worst timing but I just thought you should know you weren’t the only one being stupid enough to fall for their best friend. I was just too dumb to realize that that’s what it was.”

“Why would it be the worst timing?” He frowned.

You felt like crying again. You really wish you had some alcohol in your system right now. Why is this whole confession thing taking so long? “‘Cause you’re dating Mina? Or trying to. I don’t know. I tried not keeping tabs on you because our friends are assholes who wouldn’t stop teasing me. She’s pretty, by the way. You two look good together.”

Mark laughed again. It was raw and real this time, and god, the way your chest tightened in endearment at the sound was so pure. “You thought me and Mina are dating?”

“Aren’t you? I’ve seen you guys together a lot.” Well, once. But you tend to overestimate things.

“No!” He snorted. “Jaemin and I are trying to get her and Jeno together. If anything, she made me realize that we definitely aren’t just friends.”

“Really?” Now you just feel stupid. But what else is new? It’s all you’ve been feeling lately. Come to think of it, Mark and Mina didn’t even come close to how you two act with each other.

“Really,” he said. “Friends don’t stay at each other’s place and cuddle with each other just to fall asleep, Y/N. Besides, I said I love you, didn’t I? Did you really think that’s just gonna go away that quickly?”

“Mark, I can’t even sort my feelings out. How am I supposed to figure out how yours work?” You sighed.

“Fine. Just to be clear, I still love you. Even if you don’t, I love you,” he said, taking both your hands and placing it on his shoulder before putting his on your waist.

“But I do.”

“Say it then.”

“I love you. Even if you’re the dorkiest person I know, I love you.” Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. You’ve run your hands through his hair so many times before. You wondered why it never crossed your mind that you liked doing it not because his hair is soft but because you were sucker for the domestic feeling of it.

Mark couldn’t stop himself from smiling that he had to bury his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m not used to this, sorry.”

“Me neither,” you laughed.

When he finally composed himself, he pulled away just enough to look at you. All those times you’ve stood this close before does not even compare to how it’s like right now. This is the perfect mix of feeling new but familiar.

“You have no idea how many mornings I fought the urge to kiss you whenever we wake up next to each other,” he said in a soft voice.

“Well, nothing’s stopping you know, is there?” you muttered, eyes fluttering to his lips.

You pulled Mark down by the neck as he pulled you closer to him, your lips finally connecting. The idea of kissing him isn’t new to you. There were so many times before that you’ve found yourself inches away from his face and slamming your lips together wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. But this is the first you actually kissed him yet he felt so familiar that you were almost sure you’ve done this a million times before. His lips were soft against yours that it made you weak in the knees. If he weren’t holding onto you like he was, you probably would’ve crumpled already.

The two of you pulled away, breathless.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That didn’t even come close to how I imagined it would feel like.”

You laughed. “This whole night didn’t come close to how I imagined it would be like. I thought you were gonna keep on ignoring me. And honestly, I wouldn’t know how to cope anymore because I really, really miss you already. So thanks for saving me.”

“Stop making me blush. I don’t know how I can possibly love you more than this.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. This was only one of the very few times that the reality went better than your expectations. But then again, maybe you and Mark have always been meant to happen. It was happening even before you realized it was. And now that you finally managed to sort how you both felt, there was no more wasting chances.

“Do I still have to ask you to be my girlfriend?” he asked.

“We’ve literally slept in the same bed so many times. I’d be more surprised if we’re not dating already,” you joked.

Mark grinned. “You’re literally the only one who didn’t realize that until today, but it’s okay, I still love you.”

You laughed. “Wanna go outside and pretend we didn’t make up? I’m 100% sure Jaemin betted on us.”

“I worry how your mind works sometimes, Y/N,” Mark said with a frown before kissing you on the forehead. “But let’s do it.”

You smiled. You’ve said it a lot but you really missed this proximity. You missed being able to hug him whenever you want, and now you can kiss him whenever you want too. You wanted to say you could get used to this, but the thing is… you already are.

#y/n is a clown here read at your own risk #BUT PLS ENJOY CAUSE I DID #dhjdkjfhdfk i should stop writing about mark #nct au #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee #nct mark au #nct prompts #nct blurbs #soft nct hours #sad nct hours #nct fluff au #nct angst au #nct dream au #nct 127 au

[love-and-monsters]

Wyvern Prince: Epilogue

M wyvern X F human, 2,346 words

CW for major character death

This is the last chapter of Davrakoss and Sara’s story. It’s been almost a year since I started posting the original story. We’ve come a long way! For all the people who’ve followed the story, thank you so much! It was really fun to do another long form story. Just as a note, because this story ending coincides with grad school beginning, I’m going to go on a short (two week) hiatus to get all my ducks in a row. Thank you all again for reading and your patience. Enjoy the epilogue!

Davrakoss legitimately hadn’t noticed at first. In his defense, he wasn’t very good with human ages. He’d spent little time with them and, given that wyvern aging slowed significantly after maturity, he didn’t have a good baseline for what humans were supposed to look like as they got older.

So, when Sara didn’t look that mush different after ten years, he assumed it was normal for some humans and didn’t think much about it.

It wasn’t like he was a complete idiot. He noticed that other humans changed. And he was aware of what aging looked like. The servants showed signs of age first, their rough lives wearing into their faces with stress wrinkles and graying hair. Nobles had the ability to mostly disguise their aging. Hair could be dyed or disguised with wigs, expensive creams could be brought in from other countries to prevent wrinkling, and life without rough work meant that they kept their youthful looks for much longer. And given that Sara had been elevated to the level of a noble, Davrakoss compared her looks to the other nobles and saw minimal differences in both.

But aging couldn’t be avoided forever. And by ten years of minimal changes to her looks, other people were starting to notice, even if Davrakoss didn’t.

The nobles spoke to Sara first, prying into her beauty regime. Most were eager to know if she’d found some kind of beauty secret from another country. Given that Sara had basically no beauty routine, the questions were parried away quickly. But it was the beginning of the realization that something was different.

Davrakoss found her, several nights after that, peering at herself in the mirror. “Do you think I look old?” she asked him one night, when they were in the bathroom together.

“No,” Davrakoss said honestly. She didn’t. She barely looked older than when they’d first met. Maybe there was some slight wrinkling at the corners of her eyes, a slightly more mature look to her face, but she didn’t look that different.

He had expected her to be pleased. Humans didn’t seem to like aging all that much. But her brows had creased and she’d leaned back looking discomfited.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, setting down his brush and moving to her side. She frowned into the mirror, tilting her head back and forth as if hoping her expression would suddenly change.

“Shouldn’t I look old?” she asked. “Well, maybe not old, but older, at least. I’m in my thirties, but I look like I’m still in my twenties.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Davrakoss asked cautiously. “Humans don’t like aging.”

“It’s a weird thing,” Sara said. “It’s not normal. I should be getting older.” She drew back from the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink tightly enough that her knuckles started to go white. “People are noticing. If this keeps going on, more people are going to notice.”

Davrakoss stroked his fingers through her hair, twining a few strands together. “It’ll be all right. People are just going to assume you look youthful.” He kissed her forehead. “Come to bed.” He tugged on her hand. “I’ll make it worth your while?”

Sara smiled and took hold of his hand, following him.

Now that the seed had been planted, Davrakoss found himself looking at other humans, comparing their current looks with what he remembered from ten years ago. And, once he was looking for it, he could see that there was something wrong.

Everyone else looked different. Some of the changes were subtle, but if he looked, they were all present. Sara looked almost no different. In fact, looking at himself in the mirror gave himself a realization.

She had changed exactly as much as he had in the past ten years. Small little changes, but nothing big. Nothing that indicated they were aging.

Feeling mildly panicked, he wrote a quick letter to his parents. They responded a week later and he read the response with a tight, thrumming anxiety in his chest.

“We need to talk,” he said to Sara. She gave him an alarmed look. “In private,” he added, casting a look to the few servants lingering in the room. She frowned, but allowed him to pull her into their room and securely latched the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as Davrakoss sat on his bed and gestured for her to sit next to him. She looked at him cautiously. “What happened?”

“Nothing in particular,” Davrakoss said. “But, ah. It concerns you.” He passed Sara the letter.

She read through it. He saw her eyes move over the letter once, then twice, then three times. Her fingers tightened on the paper and she took in a strangled breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He tentatively touched her shoulder.

“Your parents think I’m not aging anymore?” she said, glancing up at him.

“You did suggest it first,” Davrakoss said. “I wrote to them in case they’d heard of something else like this. They hadn’t, but they did have some theories.”

“I saw that,” Sara said, glancing at the letter. “They think you’re healing me from again?”

“Oh.” Davrakoss felt his face starting to warm. It was an unfortunate thing about being human that they showed things like embarrassment so easily. “Yes, um, you know how I mentioned that wyvern blood and saliva and such has healing power?” Sara nodded. “All our body fluids have healing powers. My parents suggested that maybe if you were to be in contact with my, um. Fluids. Repeatedly. It might start healing other things. Like aging.”

Sara’s mouth opened slowly. “I’m immortal?”

“I think they said that’s unlikely.” Davrakoss glanced back at the letter again. “Yes, right there. It’s unlikely that you’ll stop aging entirely. You’ll just age a lot slower. Probably around the same rate as me.”

Sara stared down at the bed. She was breathing slowly, apparently focused on something else. Davrakoss squeezed her arm gently. “Sara? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, but her voice was a little faint. Davrakoss took hold of her and pulled her into him, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He smoothed her hair with a hand. “We just spent so much time worrying that I was going to die a lot sooner than you. And now it turns out we don’t have to worry at all.” She let out a weak giggle, snuggling her face further into his shoulder.

“No,” Davrakoss said. “We don’t.” They sat together for a few minutes, allowing relief to roll through them.

After a few moments, Davrakoss cleared his throat. “We need to discuss something else,” he said. “Um. I don’t know if you read through the letter entirely, but they do mention at the end…”

Sara lifted her head. “They want us to leave.”

Davrakoss found himself trailing his fingers through her hair over and over, trying to soothe himself. “People are going to notice that you aren’t aging.”

“People have already noticed that I’m not aging,” Sara said.

“I know. It’s only going to get worse the longer we stay and the more obvious it gets, the more likely that people are going to start connecting the dots.” Sara worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “They said they’ll give us some territory close to the border. My sister will be able to take over for me in a couple of years and then we can just stay in our own territory full time. We can even live near a human town, if you want, so you can still interact with humans.”

Sara nodded slowly. “I remember you telling me you wanted to live out there. Just you and me together. No responsibilities.”

“Mmm,” Davrakoss hummed. He leaned into her and she leaned into him so they were supporting each other. “Are you okay with it?”

Sara squeezed his hand, working her fingers over his knuckles. “We’re going to get away from all the annoyances of noble life. It’ll be just the two of us.” She glanced up at him. “Yeah. I think I’m okay with it.”

A pulse of delight rolled through Davrakoss’ body and he was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her. She laughed as he did. “We’ll have to leave soon,” he said. “Within a few months. We don’t want to stay around here any longer than we have to.”

Sara smiled up at him. There was nervousness in her eyes, but her expression was confident. “We’d better start getting ready, then.”

In the end, Davrakoss was able to use the nervousness people had toward wyverns to his advantage. Dropping a few hints that suggested he needed to be somewhere open to exercise his hunting instincts seemed to give the nobles a fright. Within two months, he had managed to convince them that he needed to live in a larger territory or he was going to eat them all.

“It’s been ten years,” he said to Sara as they packed up their belongings. “You would think they would know better. I’m not going to eat them!”

“Humans just get nervous around anything stronger than they are,” Sara said matter-of-factly. Davrakoss gave her a smirk.

“You speak as though you aren’t human.” A strange look crossed Sara’s face.

“Maybe I’m not entirely one anymore,” she said. “Not sure it’s such an awful thing.”

She was silent for much of the ride out to wyvern territory. Davrakoss tried to spark conversation a few times, but it all felt hollow. In the end, he fell silent and let her say goodbye to her home in peace.

He carried her up to their home on his back. Her fingers dug into his scales. He could almost feel her nervousness. The home was a cavern, not on top of a mountain, but in the midst of a forest. It was a quiet, pleasant place, and the cave had been used as a wyvern den previously, meaning it was well-insulated and not as dirty as a normal cave would have been.

It took some time to get Davrakoss’ horde settled. “It’s homey, isn’t it?” Davrakoss asked. With lights set up and a rug and nest of blankets and pillows set up, it was warm and inviting. Sara looked around and gave a single, pleased nod.

“It’s nice here,” she said. She turned and gave him a broad smile, which he automatically returned. “Welcome home.”

It didn’t take too long to settle into a routine. Davrakoss spent time hunting and Sara would rummage through the forest for plants to set up a garden. On the weekends, she and Davrakoss would go into a nearby town for any pother supplies they needed, and to allow Sara to socialize.

The longer they stayed in the wilderness, the more obvious it became that Sara wasn’t aging. Gradually, she and Davrakoss tapered off their interaction with any humans. There were murmurs of a mysterious, ageless woman who loved in the woods with her strange husband, but they were stories told ton scare children, and if anyone of power believed them, they were too afraid to go looking for her. No one ever seemed to connect their presence with the presence of the wyvern they sometimes saw flying over the woods.

Davrakoss engaged in politics with extreme rarity. He would occasionally guide his sister in her princess duties, but he seemed to enjoy not being in the limelight.

“It’s calmer,” he said to Sara. “Much simpler. And I don’t have to worry about anyone except you.”

They lived together in peace. Davrakoss found himself more contented than he had been in his entire life. He had his mate, he had a territory to hunt in, and he had few worries other than filling his belly and relaxing

Years passed in slow contentment, and they watched as humanity advanced. Prejudice against wyverns faded, though it didn’t vanish entirely. Davrakoss was able to see his species establish peace and trade with humans and watch as communication between the species became more open. Wyverns fought alongside humans in a couple of wars and several wyverns even took on human forms more permanently and lived in human societies.

Wyverns lived long enough that, to most humans, they appeared ageless. But they weren’t. And eventually, Davrakoss noticed the streaks of gray that worked into Sara’s hair. There was white in his hair too, but it was blonde enough that it was difficult to notice. She pulled at her hair with dissatisfaction until Davrakoss reassured her that she was beautiful nonetheless.

All things considered, she lived a remarkably long life, for a human. Two hundred and eighty was far longer than most humans could expect to live, even if it was slightly under wyvern life expectancy.

Davrakoss sensed it coming before it happened. He couldn’t have said exactly what it was. But he woke in the morning with an odd sense of dread in his stomach.

He was supposed to hunt, really, but he spent his day curled around Sara. There was just a sense that if he left, something would go completely wrong. She must have known he was anxious, because there was no teasing or prodding him to get on with his normal day. She just stroked his scales (as he got older, transforming took more effort and he spent more time in his wyvern form) and sang to him.

Eventually, late in the evening, Sara slumped against him. She slipped quietly into sleep. And then, with Davrakoss curled close to her, sleeping peacefully in her home, she died.

Davrakoss buried her in the forest outside their cave. He spent hours at her graveside, ignoring his complaining stomach.

For the next twenty-five years, he never assumed his human form again. And when he sensed his death was coming, he crawled outside his cave and lay down on his mate’s grave.

There was a sense of peace in it. For twenty-five years, he had missed his mate. And now he was going to return to her. Contented, Davrakoss closed his eyes for the final time.

#exophilia #wyvern #wyvern boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster romance #MxF #humanxmonster #OCxOC #wyvern lover

[petersasteria]

The Forces of Nature || Ch.14

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

SERIES MASTERLIST  ||  PP MASTERLIST

2.8k words

Ever since the argument, Y/N and Peter haven’t spoken to each other. Ned and MJ noticed it, but they didn’t want to get involved, so they kept their mouths shut and went their separate ways. School was normal and Y/N still sat next to Peter in her classes because as much as she disliked Peter at the moment, she admitted that they work well together. After all, they were both really intelligent.

Senior year prom was just around the corner and everyone at school was getting asked left and right. MJ was asked by Brad Davis and Y/N somehow convinced her to say yes because it would be fun. Y/N hasn’t been asked by anyone yet and she didn’t care if she was asked or not. Y/N just wanted to go. Besides, she had no time to look for a date because she was part of the prom committee.

Peter was originally going to ask MJ, but he later found out that Brad asked her. Then he was going to ask Gwen Stacy, but Harry Osborn asked her first. His last option was Mary Jane Watson, but Flash got to her first. This is why he was weighing his options with Ned when they were hanging out at his apartment.

“Just go alone, man.” Ned said as he threw a stress ball up in the air and caught it. He did that repeatedly while sitting on Peter’s desk chair.

“I don’t want to go alone, dude.” Peter sighed frustratedly.

“Then just pick a girl you want to go with!” Ned rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard, man. I picked Betty and I just straight up asked her. She said yes, obviously.”

“I just don’t know who to ask.” Peter said.

“Felicia Hardy?” Ned suggested.

“That girl’s insane. She’s… crazy. She once followed me around. Now that she stopped, I don’t want her to do that shit again.” Peter explained.

“Okay, what about Cindy Moon? You liked her at one point, right?” Ned asked.

“Yeah and to be honest, I didn’t like her that much. She didn’t like me that much either.” Peter shrugged nonchalantly.

“Didn’t you guys make out or something?” Ned questioned. Peter’s cheeks turned into a light shade of pink and said, “We did more than that and it only happened once, but that’s not the point!”

“Ask Cindy Moon, then!” Ned chuckled.

“Pass.”

“Why?”

“Just- pass.” Peter said and Ned gave him a look. “I don’t have to explain everything to you. I just don’t want to ask her.”

“Fine. What about Y/N, then?”

“We’re not okay right now.” Peter said shortly. He refused to talk about what went down at the compound and Ned never asked. But that didn’t mean that Ned wasn’t tired of the whole situation.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the both of you, but I think you should just move past it. You’re frenemies, right? Then go to prom as friends.” Ned said.

“Except, we’re enemies right now.” Peter pointed out.

“That’s true, but I think it’s time to let your pride down to ask her to prom as a friend.” Ned said.

“I’ll think about it.” Peter said.

Weeks passed and it was already prom night. Peter decided to go alone because being a bachelor at prom wasn’t so bad after all. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone else other than himself and that’s all he needed right now.

Everyone was slow dancing and Peter was at the food table getting some punch when he realized that Y/N was standing next to him. He stared at her and when she felt someone staring, she turned to see who it was.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned to face everyone dancing. Peter did the same. He took a sip of his punch and said, “I like what you guys did with the place, by the way.” 

“Thanks.” She said. “I like your tux. You picked a nice color.”

“It was my uncle’s tux.” Peter said and she nodded, not knowing what else to say. They stood next to each other in silence for about a minute when Peter decided to break it.

“Who’s your date?”

“No one. I don’t mind, though. My only goal here was to go and enjoy and take pictures. A date never really crossed my mind if I’m being honest. I’ll tell you one thing though; I never thought I’d go to my senior prom alone.”

She looked at Peter and said, “I’ve always imagined what it’d be like, y’know? It’s all in my head ever since middle school. I’m wearing the dress of my dreams and I’ve got a cute date. He’s not popular, but he’s all I ever wanted. Then we’d go to prom together and we’d dance the night away and maybe get some food at a fast food chain because the food at prom wasn’t satisfying.”

“Wow. You really do have it all planned.” Peter said in surprise.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t get to do that anymore. Anyway, enough about me. Who’s your date?”

“No one.”

“Oh.”

Peter looked at her and thought about the plan she had in her head; the plan she’s had since middle school. The good person in him started to take over his whole being. He didn’t want Y/N’s senior prom to be sad. Besides, he owes it to her after what happened between them. He wanted her to have a good time; he wanted her to fulfill the plans she had in her head. He didn’t want her to just stand around at prom wishfully thinking about the what if’s.

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Y/N, would you like to dance with me?”

“Why?” She snorted. “If you feel bad, don’t bother. I don’t want your pity.”

“No, I’m genuinely asking. I’m not doing it out of pity. I actually really want to dance with you.” Peter said.

She sighed, “Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you and I’m doing this because I want you to have fun. You can only have your senior prom once and I won’t let you waste it. Besides, we’re frenemies and I’m being a friend right now. After this, you can go back to hating me. So, what d’ya say? Dance with me?” Peter asked and held his hand out for her.

Y/N looked at him and his hand as she tried to hide a smile on her gorgeous face. She sighed and grabbed his hand. Peter grinned and led her to the dance floor to join everyone. Peter’s hands made its way to her waist while her arms were on his shoulder, her hands folded on the back of his neck. Just as they did that, the song changed. Coincidentally, it was Y/N’s favorite song from childhood: “So Close” by John McLaughlin from Enchanted.

You’re in my arms and all the world is gone The music playing on for only two So close together and when I’m with you So close to feeling alive

Y/N shyly smiled and looked down at their feet. Peter glanced at her and asked what she was smiling about. Y/N looked straight into his brown eyes and sighed in content, “They’re playing my favorite song and they played it just a second before we started dancing.”

Peter smiled, “I think it means that you’re really meant to be dancing.”

“How come?” She asked with confusion written all over her face. Peter chuckled lightly and said, “Well, imagine how sad it would be if this song played and you’re not dancing to it. I think this song played because you’re here; you’re dancing with me.”

“That’s true.” She nodded. “But even if I didn’t dance the second this song played, I think I’d look for you to ask if you want to dance with me.”

“Really?” Peter asked with raised eyebrows as they swayed to the music together.

“Yeah. You’re the only other guy I know. Besides, you’re cute and I would never miss the opportunity to dance with a cute guy.” She giggled softly.

“So, you think I’m cute? I thought you hated m-”

Y/N brought a finger to his lips and shushed him, “We’re friends right now, so let’s not ruin the moment.”

Peter said a soft “okay” and Y/N brought her arm back into its place as her head rested on his chest with her eyes closed. Peter rested his chin on top of her head and smiled to himself.

‘This isn’t so bad after all.’ He thought to himself.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“After this song, do you want to leave early to get some real food?” Peter asked in a whisper. Y/N smiled and lifted her head from his chest to look at him, “If you mean any fast food chain that’s open or any diner, then yes I want to leave early to get some real food.”

“Good.” He grinned before both of them returned to their position as they continued to sway to the music in comfortable silence. Unbeknownst to both of them, they held each other tight as if the other would drift away. Ned and MJ were dancing with their dates nearby and they smiled at the two of them.

Betty looked at the direction Ned was looking at and her heart swelled at the sight, “You know, they should just date already. I ship them a lot.”

“Same here.” Ned whispered.

“They look good together, don’t they? Y/N and Peter, I mean.” Brad said casually. MJ looked at him and Brad’s eyes widened, “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. That was so insensitive of me. I forgot that you dated Peter. I shouldn’t have said-”

MJ shook her head, “Don’t be sorry.” She looked at Peter slow dancing with Y/N and she smiled to herself, “I’m glad they found each other. They really look good together.”

“Aren’t you jealous, though?” Brad asked.

“Nope. We ended things mutually and I can see that he really cares about Y/N. He just subconsciously freaks out if he cares too much and that’s when he becomes an asshole to her. But if they actually tried, they’d be a cute couple. I can see it lasting long.” MJ explained as Brad nodded, not saying anything else after that.

We’re so close to reaching that famous happy ending Almost believing this one’s not pretend Let’s go on dreaming though we know we are So close, so close and still so far

The song ended and even though Y/N and Peter didn’t want to let go yet, they had to. They let go of each other and gave each other a shy smile.

“So… food?” Peter asked and Y/N nodded. Both of them left the dance floor and Y/N told Peter that she’ll quickly grab her purse from the table she was sitting at earlier that night and Peter told her that he’d wait for her by the door. They split up and Ned ran over to Peter.

“Where are you going?” Ned asked.

“Out.” Peter shrugged. “Now, go back to your date or she’d never talk to you ever again.”

“Betty understands why I’m here. Anyway, who are you going with?”

“Y/N. S’no big deal, though. We’re just… two friends eating out somewhere.” Peter said casually.

“Like a date?”

“A friendly date.”

“Sure.” Ned eyed him suspiciously. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Meanwhile, MJ quickly walked over to Y/N and asked where she was going. Y/N said, “I’m going out with Peter. We’re getting some food. Do you want to tag along?”

MJ smiled and shook her head, “Nah. You guys have fun, though. Text me when you get home.”

“Will do. Bye!” She waved goodbye to MJ before walking to where Peter was. She approached Peter who was standing with Ned.

“Peter, I got my purse and I’m ready to go.” Y/N smiled and waved her purse a bit. She looked at Ned and greeted him.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll talk to you later, man.” Peter said as they did their handshake. They bid Ned goodbye and the two of them were on their way to a diner. On the way there, they talked about random things.

“After we graduate, what’re your plans?” Peter asked.

“I’m not really sure about that, but what I am sure of is I don’t want to go into the scientific field.” Y/N confessed which surprised Peter.

“What?! But you’re super great in science!” Peter exclaimed.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a career out of it.” Y/N shrugged. “I might go into fashion designing or something. I love fashion, so why not make a career out of it? At least I’m doing something I’m passionate about. I’m not passionate about biology or chemistry or physics. I’m just lucky enough to have the brains for it.”

Peter nodded, finally understanding what she meant.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“What are your plans after you graduate?” She asked.

“Hopefully get into M.I.T and study the course I want. I still don’t know what course I want, though. Maybe something tech-y.” Peter said and Y/N nodded. They reached a 24-hour diner and went in. They got settled in at a booth as they sat across from each other and looked at each other with smiles on their faces.

A waitress came over with menus in hand and patiently waited for them to order. They scanned the menu and settled on two milkshakes, a cheeseburger cut in half, and a plate of fries. While waiting for their order, they continued their conversation.

“I have a question, by the way.” Peter said after a while.

“Shoot.”

“You joined most of the clubs at Midtown. How do you manage all of that?” Peter asked. “I’m genuinely concerned if you get any sleep at all or something.”

She chuckled, “I honestly don’t know how I do it. I just… do. I love it all, though. I like it when I’m busy, but there are times when I feel like it’s all too much and I just break down. I don’t even remember joining a lot of clubs.”

“You’re amazing.” Peter said with no hesitation. “Just- amazing.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled. Their order arrived and they ate in peace. Neither of them wanted to break the comfortable silence between them. The comfortable silence continued after they ate. Peter paid for the food they ate and they walked home in silence.

The farther they walk, the closer they get until their hands are intertwined with each other. They avoided looking at each other despite the pure bliss on their face. They reached Y/N’s apartment building and Peter walked her up to her unit.

They reached the door and Y/N broke the silence, “We’re here.”

“Yeah.” Peter whispered as he stared at her. She looked at him and smiled.

“I had such a fun night with you, Peter. As much as it’s annoying and cheesy to admit, my prom would’ve sucked if it weren’t for you swooping in to ask me to dance with you.” Y/N said softly.

“I had such a fun night with you too. I feel like we’ve learned so much about each other.” Peter said truthfully.

“Yeah, same here.” Y/N said. It was obvious that the two of them were just dragging out the time because neither of them wanted the night to end. Perhaps it’s because they think that everything would go back to normal on Monday or they won’t mention the night ever again. Whatever the reason was, they didn’t want the night to end.

“It’s getting late. I think May’s going to call the SWAT team to look for me because I’m not home yet.” Peter said jokingly and Y/N nodded with a chuckle.

“Right! Have a safe walk home, okay? I’d hate to lose another person in my life.” Y/N said.

“I’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home.” Peter smiled and turned around to leave.

“Peter, wait!”

Peter quickly turned around and said, “Yes?”

“Thank you for everything. I especially thank you for being my first and last dance at prom.”

“First and last?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

She nodded, “Uh, yeah. I haven’t danced with anyone prior to our dance and I never danced with anyone after that. So, first and last.”

“You’re my first and last dance too.” Peter smiled. Y/N whispered, “That’s great.”

Before they knew it, they were slowly leaning in and Peter finally closed the gap between them which caught Y/N by surprise, but she quickly melted in the kiss and wrapped her arms around him.

Peter stole her first kiss. It was truly a night to remember.

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @ragnarokayla​ @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind @alexx-stancati @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @cherthegoddess @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @parkerlovebot @supred12 @peterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @beverlythrillz @slutforsr

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen  @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @hi-im-maddie @xfirstfemale-marauderx @u-rrose @speedymaximoff @theliterarymess​

+ @greenorangevioletgrass​ bc she told me to tag her in this part x

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

[senacal]

A Perfect Disaster

Request: Not a request

Pairing: Hank McCoy x Reader

Prompt:  Imagine Hank McCoy wants to spice up his and (Y/N)'s romance life and tries all sorts of cheesy tactics such as candlelit dinners, bringing fruit and whipped cream into the bedroom, sexy underwear... whether they fail or not in their romancing is another question...

Warnings: Fluff, undertones to sex, cursing, slight angst? speculations of cheating

Author’s Note: I wanted to write at least one thing for each character I write for and I stumbled on this prompt and thought of how awkward Hank would be, so here you go!

Requests are open! 

(Gif not mine)

Lately (Y/N) has noticed that Hank has been acting kind of odd. (Y/N) was trying to figure out why that was, so they’ve been subtly asking around. And by subtly, that meant flat out asking what the fuck was up with Hank McCoy. When (Y/N) asked Charles, the telepath who was sure to know everything, he had refused to look into Hank’s mind. Which (Y/N) found frustrating because now they had to go asking more people what they thought. All their answers matched, “Ask Charles.” Yeah, no shit! But Charles was being pretty mindful of this. The one time (Y/N) asks him to abuse his power, Charles refuses. That left (Y/N) only one option. Ask Hank what was going on.

It wasn’t such a surprise to find Hank below the mansion in the lab he had built, so that’s exactly where (Y/N) had gone to look. But what was strange was to find him spending his time shopping. C’mon, Hank McCoy willingly shopping? He hated most social interactions and crowds. So when (Y/N) went looking for him only to be told he was at the mall of all places was beyond confusing to them. (Y/N) was used to the late nights and sometimes, all-nighters, that Hank pulled. He was the resident genius so he was always on call. (Y/N) could deal with that. But a whole week? A week of ignored phone calls, a week of late nights, a week of canceled plans. What was so important that Hank had left (Y/N) all by themselves for a whole week? (Y/N) knew there were no current missions. Hell, they were apart of the X-Men for crying out loud so they were sure to know if a mission was happening or not.

And now Hank was shopping? What the hell was happening?

(Y/N) was sitting in their shared bedroom, waiting for his arrival. He had been gone approximately three hours now. (Y/N) was watching the clock, counting the minutes. Hank’s new habits were driving them crazy. What if he was cheating on them? That could explain why Hank was never around anymore. It would explain why Charles wouldn’t tell (Y/N) what Hank was thinking. Then again Charles could actually want to give them the privacy everyone needed. Fuck, it all sucked. Especially the not knowing part of all this. (Y/N) always knew what people were doing. They were always one step ahead of everyone else. So the fact that (Y/N) didn’t know what Hank was doing, was driving them crazy.

“Hey babe, I’m back,” Hank walked into their shared room and deposited his bags in their shared closet. “Sorry I took so long, the mall was packed. I can’t believe people go there to hang out,” Hank shuddered.

“Right… Can I ask why you were there?” (Y/N) wondered.

“I was buying a few things,” Hank shut the closet door and sat on the bed right next to (Y/N).  He placed a small kiss on their cheek, “I know I haven’t been around much recently, but I want to make that up to you. Make sure your schedule is free tomorrow because it's gonna be me and you all day,” He promised.

“A day dedicated to us? You’re sure some projects won’t need you?” (Y/N) asked somewhat bitterly. They didn’t mean to sound so petulant, but a week without Hank was kinda grating. They slept in the same room and (Y/N) still hardly saw him.

“Of course not, that’s why I was down there for so long. I wanted to finish ahead of time. Otherwise, we’d still be going through the same routine,” Hank furrowed his brows confused. “Didn’t I tell you I would be especially busy this week?”

“It must have slipped your mind,” (Y/N) shrugged. “It’s fine though,” (Y/N) perked up and sat up straighter, “So you have plans for us for tomorrow?”

Hank grinned and nodded, “I do, but it’s a surprise so you can’t know anything about it, so no cheating okay? Don’t ask Charles or the others about it and don’t try to use your powers to glimpse into the future.”

(Y/N) furrowed their brows, “Okay… can I ask why?”

“No, you may not,” Hank kissed (Y/N) on the nose, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to set some things up for tomorrow, Love you!” Hank stood up and almost ran out the door.

The rest of the night was spent with Raven, the both of you speculating what Hank had planned. Raven was saying that Hank was going to do something that would be simple because he wasn’t one to draw attention to himself. (Y/N) had to agree, that was very much like Hank, but with the way he has been acting lately, they thought this time would be different too. By the end of the night, Hank was actually in bed at a reasonable hour and (Y/N) got to fall asleep in his arms. Even if the next day turned out horrible for whatever reason, (Y/N) at least had that moment in Hank’s arms.

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up alone. It wasn’t too unusual, but they were wondering where Hank had run off to. He had promised a full day for the two of them. (Y/N) sat up in bed and stretched their arms overhead. It was kind of hard to force themselves out of bed most days but for once (Y/N) had gotten the best night’s sleep in over a week. They were just about to get up when the bedroom door burst open. (Y/N) would have been startled if it weren’t for the fact that it was Hank who had come barrelling in with what looked like breakfast. 

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you did I?” He winced.

(Y/N) shook their head with an amused smile, “You need help?”

“No, I’ve got it, you just sit back and relax,” Hank kicked the door closed with his foot and met (Y/N) on the bed, “I made us some pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns,” he beamed proudly. Despite Hank’s advantageous feet, he was pretty clumsy, especially in the kitchen.

“You cooked?” (Y/N) asked surprised.

“Well, Raven cooked, but I did learn a few tricks!” He spoke happily. 

(Y/N) too their plate from Hank with a grateful smile, “Well, I’ll have to thank her,” they leaned over and kissed Hank’s cheek, “Thank you, my love.”

Henry blushed despite himself. He had thought he’d be used to affection by now, but in truth, he was still as flustered as the first time (Y/N) had shown him any form of affection. Hank was used to being alone in his lab, or alone with his teammates. He never thought he’d meet someone who would make his whole world bright. 

Breakfast was delicious and (Y/N) vowed to thank Raven once again. They knew Raven could cook, but damn! (Y/N) sat back and pat their stomach, “That was wonderful, thank you, Hank.”

“It was nothing, really. Wait till you see what else I have planned,” He grinned. He had made sure to set a schedule that was sure to be successful. He awoke early that morning to ensure everything was bulletproof, figuratively speaking of course. 

“I can’t wait,” (Y/N) moved their plate aside to get up, “For now, I’d like to shower, care to join me?”

Hank was up in an instant, he could afford to be distracted at least a little bit, right? Everything was sure to turn out successful in the end.

Everything was not successful. Hank couldn’t understand what had happened! One minute he was taking (Y/N) apart inch by inch in the shower, the next, (Y/N) had slipped and hit their head thus killing the mood. This was why he never indulged in shower sex! Well, he also never had the opportunity, but (Y/N) hurt their head! They had a major headache for a couple of hours after that so Hank had to cancel a few plans, like the training in the Danger Room, the horseback riding reservation, and the movie date. 

(Y/N) had apologized repeatedly because they felt as if it were their fault, but Hank was sure to shoot down each apology. Hank should have been more careful, at least that’s what he had said each time (Y/N) apologized. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling better? We can skip the picnic if you’re still hurting,” Hank softly spoke.

“No, we are not canceling any more plans. You put so much thought into today and I already ruined a good portion of it,” (Y/N) put up a finger to silence Hank, “Don’t say that I didn’t because we both know if it weren’t for my headache we’d be exhausted physically by now.”

Hank sighed, “I should have been careful, if we’re blaming someone, then it’s on me,” Hank stood up from their shared bed and straightened his clothes, “If you really want to do this, then I’ll make sure the basket is ready to go.” Even though Henry had checked everything over that morning, he desperately needed to make sure everything was ready to go now. 

“I do want to do this. I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?” (Y/N) stood up and shooed Hank away.

Once Hank had left, (Y/N) opened their top drawer to their dresser and pulled out an Advil bottle, just in case. 

When (Y/N) finally emerged downstairs, Hank was holding a blanket, a basket, and an umbrella. “Ready (Your nickname)?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” (Y/N) held out their hand to take something, anything from Hank who resembled a packed mule. Hank sighed gratefully and handed the umbrella to them. Once Hank’s hand was free, (Y/N) used the advantage to lace their fingers together. They loved to see Hank’s cheeks flush anytime they did something simple with their affection. 

Together, Hank and (Y/N) walked down the path of the gardens to find a good spot for their picnic. Despite the happenings of the morning, (Y/N) was enjoying their day. Sure they hurt their head, but Hank was there to take care of them. Hank was there to cuddle and he was there to dote over (Y/N). The mere presence of the other mutant was enough to ease (Y/N)’s pain. They were looking forward to the rest of the day, whether it’s ruined by some unfortunate event or not. As long as Hank was with them, nothing else mattered.

To Hank’s surprise and delight, the picnic was a huge success. Not only did their simple meal suffice, but the sparkling cider was also chilled perfectly. The flowers in the garden were in full bloom and even though there were a few bees, the bees managed to keep away from them, though Hank suspected (Y/N) had to do with that. (Y/N) had the ability to interact with animals, big, small, aquatic, land, etc. Alex used to tease them both that (Y/N) managed to snag Hank’s love and affection because (Y/N)’s mutant powers tamed the beast within him. He wasn’t too far off, but it had nothing to do with the powers (Y/N) possessed and everything to do with their personality and who they were.

Now that the picnic was finished, Hank took ahold of (Y/N)’s hand, and together they walked around the grounds of the mansion. It was truly beautiful. Charles managed to create the most beautiful school and they couldn’t have asked for better scenery. 

Once the sun began to set, Hank escorted (Y/N) back to their room for dessert. When Hank suggested dessert, he did a godawful wink that either Charles or Alex had shown him. (Y/N) thought it was adorable and followed him inside nonetheless. 

“You head on up and I’ll meet you there, okay?” Hank kissed (Y/N)’s temple and lightly pushed them in the direction of the stairs.

“Alright, don’t keep me waiting or I’ll get started without you,” (Y/N) teased.

Hank couldn’t help the grin that formed on his lips as he watched (Y/N) walk up the stairs. In spite of it all, their day was the perfect disaster and Hank wouldn’t have changed anything in the end.

#hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy #X-men #x-men x reader #beast x-men #beast x reader #beast #fluff #slight angst #speculations to cheating #but it's okay because hank would never #gender nuetral reader #hank mccoy x gender neutral reader #beast x gender neutral reader #not a request

[im-whatchamccallit]

Confessing to Their Crush While Drunk//ATEEZ

(A/N: I spent days editing and rewriting this and I’m still not satisfied but I don’t have anymore time to cry over it so I accept it for what it is lol. Also, some are longer than others and I’m sorry about that)

Hongjoong

Clubs weren’t really your thing but you needed to relax a bit, your job overwhelming you to the point of no return, and you thought of one person who probably felt the same pressure and needed this night out just as much as you did: Hongjoong.

What you didn’t expect was for him to down various shots as if they were water, your hands no longer reaching to the tray of jello shots as you watched him stumble around happily, dancing off beat to the fast paced music.

He was on cloud nine at this point, his eyes barely open as his grin took up 90% of his face, but he managed to see your distinct figure approaching him, his body nearly lunging towards you as you caught him with ease, a concerned look on your face.

“Hi angel!” You tried to smile but grimaced at the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“Are you alright, Joong? I think I should take you home.” You offered, not surprised as he shook his head and tried to pull away, a sigh leaving your lips.

“At least sit down. Let’s get you some water.” Luckily, he followed you without incident.

You sat in silence at the bar as you sipped on your water, body trembling under Hongjoong’s intense stare despite your efforts to ignore it, unsure of what was going through his mind and if they were pure intentions at all. When you finally did face him, any questions you may have had were interrupted by his simple but shocking confession.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

Your face grew hot as his words, ready to tell him how strange and inappropriate he was being from his usual self, but the small giggles he let out and slight pink tint to his cheeks and ears made you want to roll your eyes at yourself. He was drunk, you shouldn’t get yourself worked up over drunken words.

“I wrote an entire song about how cute your lips were, especially when you smile. I even look at your picture sometimes just because I miss you. I feel stupid being this in love with someone, but I’m so happy at the same time.”

As much as you wanted to pass it off as drunken words, they honestly cut deep. Whenever you’d call Hongjoong as he was writing or composing, he’d answer the call with an excited “Hello, my muse” before detailing the song he was preparing for the next comeback. But maybe he was just talking to talk, and the alcohol was just forming unrealistic sentences that you wanted to hear and he couldn’t comprehend. But from the way your eyes gazed to the empty glass of water you ordered for him, you weren’t completely sure anymore.

“(Y/n),” Your attention came back to Hongjoong, his eyes meeting yours as he leaned against the bar to balance himself.

“Don’t smile for anyone else but me, okay? I don’t want them to take you away.” He said in a fake stern tone, managing to bring a genuine smile and laugh from you.

“I swear.”

Seonghwa

Seonghwa was typically a classy man, drinking wine in high class places to show he was mature and sophisticated. But on the nights you’d invite him over for dinner and your bi-weekly catch up, a tradition you made after he debuted in order to keep in touch, classy was the last thing you’d use to describe him.

Dinner ended not long ago and, from the moment you sat on your sofa and began talking until now, you had managed to clear three bottles. But you were only now finishing your second glass. It was a shock to see Seonghwa down each glass as if it were water but you ignored it as his laugh grew louder and smile brighter, loving the face that you almost rarely got to see these days. What you couldn’t ignore was how close he was at this point, your knees slightly touching as his free hand gently toyed with the hairs of your bang and adjusted them to show more of your face, his hooded eyes staring into yours as neither of you spoke for what felt like hours.

“Don’t you ever think we’d be cute together?” He asked boldly, not taking his eyes off yours that were now wide.

You couldn’t find the words to say, let alone speak, so you just let him continue, his hand placing the wine glass down as he wrapped an arm around your waist, a strange tingle going down your spine when he brought his face to yours. You knew Seonghwa’s tolerance level, and two and a half bottles of wine alone wasn’t even close to getting him drunk, but you could definitely tell the alcohol was effecting him.

“Don’t you think it’s reckless to say stuff like this while you’re drunk?” You questioned, giggling in an attempt to play off what you were convincing yourself was a joke.

“I think it was reckless for me to not tell you this for years, but do you know how hard it is being away from someone you love while you’re touring? It really sucks.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that part, your eyes finally focusing to take in his entire appearance, a small gasp leaving your lips at how attractive he was, and not in the platonic way you’ve thought for the past four years.

“Coming home and seeing you is one thing I always look forward to. But coming home and being able to hold you, and kiss you, would really make it worthwhile.”

As Seonghwa leaned in, inching closer to press his lips to yours, your eyes closing instinctively as you waited for the much desired collision, everything felt so right. Until the two and a half bottles of wine he chugged finally caught up with him. He immediately pulled back and clenched his eyes shut, his throat burning as he felt the sudden urge to vomit, the sound of his retching slipping through his pursed lips and you immediately forgot this moment, rushing him to the nearest bathroom as he sob mentally at how everything went wrong so fast.

Yunho

(I’d commit crimes just to stand next to this man is2g)

You were mentally cursing at yourself for bringing Yunho to this wedding with you. You knew he would be drinking tonight but to get absolutely drunk seemed like a personal attack on you. You watched him stumble back towards you on the dance floor with a glass of dark liquor, a wide and goofy smile on his face as he stood behind you and wrapped an arm around your neck, laying his head onto yours with almost all of his weight. Whether it be that moment or carrying him to the car, you were going to be squished to death by the end of the night.

“Do you want some?” He asked cutely, bringing the glass to your lips before you shook your head, refusing as you finally managed to turn around in his grasp to face him.

“I’m driving, remember? But this doesn’t mean you can drink all you want.”

He whined as you snatched the glass from him before he could take a sip, giving a fake glare before smiling widely at you. In the blink of an eye, his arms moving down to your waist to hoist you up, a loud gasp leaving you as he pressed his lips to your face and neck repeatedly.

“You’re so cute when you’re bossy. You’re always trying to look after me.” He cooed into your neck, not letting up on his touchiness.

Your face was hot as you noticed a few acquaintances and family members looking in your direction, your eyes diverting in embarrassment.

“Get off, Yunho. People are looking at us.” You warned, using your free hand to push him away, his typical large puppy-like eyes and deep frown making your heart clench.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

“No! I just don’t want everyone to get the wrong idea about us.”

“So what?!” You nearly jumped out of his arms from the outburst, but he wasn’t stopping yet.

“What if I want people to think we’re together? We’d be a great couple so it’d make sense! Why can’t we just be together now?”

A smirk slowly crept onto your face. Honestly, the idea didn’t sound half bad. Who wouldn’t want to be with a tall and attractive idol, especially one you’ve known most of your life? So you let him have his fun for the night, slowly growing used to his over the top clinginess and childlike playful nature, knowing you’ll have your own fun teasing him about it tomorrow.

Yeosang

You actually came to the small get together just a few minutes ago, Ateez and their staff sitting around the large table in the back of the restaurant and booze flowing through most of their veins at this point. Before you could take a seat, you heard a loud gasp and a(n attempted) whisper of your name, your head snapping to the source of the voice that just so happened to be your fairy-like friend.

“Why are you so late? You were supposed to be here sooner. I saved you a seat next to me.” He said while standing, watching as you slowly made your way to the seat he had refused anyone else to occupy.

The bittersweet part about drunk Yeosang was that he was the opposite of who he was in his everyday life. His emotions were laid out then and there, all of his clingy and desperate feelings towards you coming out as he clumsily tried to charm you. You loved it. It was adorable and sweet, even if he probably wouldn’t remember his actions in the morning. But tonight, he would do something that not even he would forget once sober.

You refrained from drinking in case the rest of the sober staff needed another designated driver, offering to take the boys yourself since you basically had a handle on them when they drink like this. You tried to grab more beef, Yeosang immediately grabbing your bowl and doing it for you while you playfully shoved him.

“Why do you keep doing that? I’m the one that’s supposed to take care of you tonight.”

“You’re always supposed to do things for the people you love.” He reassured, your hands holding his steady as he finally placed the bowl back onto the table.

“Why not help Mingi then? You two are like brothers.” You joked, motioning to the younger boy struggling to even grasp the food with his chopsticks properly.

“I’m not in love with Mingi.”

Your face was hot from how seriously he said it, and how he stared at you with such an intense yet unfocused gaze while doing it. Your face grew hotter once you realized a few people around the table were indeed staring, wondering what the next move would be now that he’s confessed. Yeosang was a bit bashful at this point, the alcohol making it easy to hide his blush, but he wasn’t going to backtrack on his words. Not even if he wanted to.

After a minute of waiting, everyone redirected their attention, even Yeosang looked away from you seeing that you weren’t responding, his typical reserved behavior returning and making you feel a bit guilty. Although you’d prefer a sober confession from him, you still felt like you owed him some kind of answer for now, even if you’d do it all over again when he was in the right state of mind. But being vocal about it in front of everyone here would just add to your demure. Yeosang still didn’t look up but gave a small smile at the feeling of your hand grabbing his beneath the table.

San

You could tell it was still pretty late at night so you let yourself fall deeper into slumber, ignoring the sounds of your front and bedroom doors opening and closing, the sound of clothing falling to the ground as well as the feeling of the side of your bed dipping in. You weren’t even alarmed when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into a bare torso that you happily snuggled into, the strong sent of alcohol burning your nose.

Until you realized you lived alone.

You shot up immediately and screamed, drawing your hand back to punch the intruder when you saw a disheveled San lying in bed, eyes closed and body curled slightly as he attempted to get comfortable.

“What the fuck are you doing here? And where are your clothes?” You growled, pushing at his head until he finally looked at you.

“Your place was closer than the dorms.” He croaked out, ignoring both your last question and angry scowl to pull you back down and onto his chest, your eyes not leaving his face.

“Closer from where exactly?”

“The bar.” You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself up, much to his dismay.

“You know I hate when you go out alone like this. Last time I had to get you from two towns over because the boys weren’t with you. Do you know how irresponsible and careless that is?” You scolded.

San had a bit of a habit when drinking: wandering off to unknown places with no plan. Sometimes he’d be with Wooyoung but he’d always end up calling you to pick him up just for you to find him alone, completely drunk yet smiling as if nothing were wrong. You weren’t angry at him, just scared. The idea he would be anywhere with anyone getting into God knows what kind of trouble made you stay away from his drunken activities entirely, not wanting to plague your mind with worse case scenarios. But now, you weren’t keeping this to yourself, his nonchalant attitude pissing you off more than you’d like it to.

“What if you end up miles away and some sasaengs kidnap you? Or what if you’re just kidnapped by anyone? Or worse? You can’t call me to get you if that happens.”

“You always think about the negative stuff.” He whined, sitting up and now fully engaging with you in your tirade.

“One of us has to since you don’t seem to care. I’m allowed to be worried about whether or not my friends stay safe.”

“If that’s all we are, then you shouldn’t care so much.” He said with a deep monotone voice and harsh glare.

San wasn’t always his usual happy self when he drank, sometimes he was serious, so serious it almost always intimidated you. So seeing his once hooded eyes open and staring straight into yours as if he wasn’t drifting off to sleep just a minute ago made you anxious, not sure if this would turn into an argument or he’d just let it go. But you didn’t want to back down from your half-assed intervention now.

“D-don’t confess to me just so we can change the subject.”

“I’m not confessing to you to change the subject, I’m confessing because I like you. I don’t want you to care about when I drink, I’ll always be safe when I go out, but I want you to care about me the way I care about you. Care about if we’re making each other happy, and if we’re not stressed after working all day. I don’t want you to care as my friend because you love me, just care about me because you’re in love with me.”

You felt like your head was spinning. Choi San, the boxer cladded male in your bed that stunk of what you could only assume was beer and rum, telling you he was in love with you in the most coherent and brilliant way possible, only to pass out not even a second later. You felt like you were in a fever dream yet you weren’t asleep, and you sure as well weren’t going to get any now that you were debating on if you were prepared to accept his feelings right away or wait until he told you properly before getting your hopes up.

Mingi

So many things were wrong with tonight, the first being that a housewarming party should never be this rowdy, especially when the host wasn’t around. The second thing? The host being pressed against their bedroom door as their best friend desperately made out with them.

You weren’t entirely sure how this all happened, one second you were doing shots and dancing in your living room, next you were yelling at Mingi for falling over and breaking the glass he was drinking from, and now you were shoving your tongue down his throat as he clumsily tried to pull off your shirt. You both reek of tequila and gin, both of you hesitating on continuing your kiss as the smell was a bit much, Mingi taking the initiative to remove his lips from yours, a gentle whimper leaving your mouth as you stared at him.

Your eyes were completely filled with lust, which excited and scared Mingi a bit, his own eyes soft as he examined you approaching him, attempting to remove his shirt but he stepped away immediately, your face dropping at the sudden shift in mood.

“What’s wrong?” You asked cautiously.

Mingi didn’t know how to respond. You were both intoxicated, sure, but he was still sober enough to know this isn’t what he wanted, at least not this way. He wanted to be with you for more than just one night and be more than just your best friend that you had a quick fling with. He wanted a relationship, something serious that 12 year old Mingi could’ve only hoped and dreamed for. At this moment, it was starting to feel like it would only remain a dream. Unless he did something completely spontaneous to throw both of you off. Which he did.

“Mingi, why are you crying?” You asked incredulously, rushing to wipe the tears falling from his face, honestly annoyed as you tried to suppress the sudden buildup of hormones from a few seconds prior.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” He admitted, a wave of disappointment coming over you, but him changing his mind was nothing to be upset over.

“That’s fine, but you don’t have to cry about it.”

“You don’t get it. If we sleep together, then that’ll be it. We won’t have a genuine relationship because it’ll just be about sex, and I don’t want you to think I’m just using you when I ask you out because I really do like you.”

You sighed and wrapped your arms around him as he cried, wanting to be amused that your best friend was an emotional drunk, but flustered at the fact he actually wanted to have a relationship with you, suddenly the dreams of 12 year old you and 12 year old Mingi finally becoming reality.

“How about, if we aren’t too hungover tomorrow, we go on a real date? That way our relationship can be completely genuine.” A smile forming on your lips as he nodded slowly.

Considering you both went back to partying immediately after that conversation, you decided to have your date at home while suffering with your hangovers together.

Wooyoung

You rolled over in bed as your phone chimed for the fifth time in a row, a deep scowl on your face once it chimed once more, grabbing it from your side table to figure out who the hell would be bothering you at 3 in the morning.

“Fucking Wooyoung.” You mumbled as you read through the messages.

None of them made sense, except one asking if you were up. You were about to respond to ask what he wanted before your phone began to ring, your reflection staring back as Wooyoung was trying to FaceTime you, only to answer and see complete darkness.

“Wooyoung?”

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. Why are you texting and calling me? Do you know what time it is?”

“Ah! (Y/n)!” He said happily, your face grimacing once he finally put the camera on him. He was wasted.

“You were drinking, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. But I wanted to see you so I left.” He giggled slightly, turning behind him as if someone were following him.

“Wooyoung, where are you?” You asked, suddenly concerned once you realized he passed several streetlights and could have been anywhere and all alone.

“I’m at the k-“

“Wooyoung, where the hell are you going?!” Hongjoong yelled from a few feet away, trailing the younger boy with an annoyed look.

“I wanted to talk to (Y/n)!” Wooyoung called back, returning his focus to you and giving a large smile.

“You could’ve just called her in the hallway!”

“It’s still too loud! I wanted to hear their voice!”

You sat back quietly and listened to them go back and forth, Hongjoong finally catching up to him and forcibly dragging him back towards the karaoke bar they were at. Though you could understand why Hongjoong was upset, Wooyoung and San being known to wander off without the other’s knowing and not returning for hours sometimes, it was kinda sweet to hear that he was thinking of you while out with his group members.

“You’re seriously so childish.”

“You’ve just never been in love before.” Wooyoung said sullenly, his phone aimed downwards as he reentered the building.

You were glad he wasn’t staring at your expression, having head what he said but unsure if he even heard himself. Was he really in love with you? It seemed pretty hard to tell since he gave you the same amount of affection as everyone else, but sometimes he would go the extra mile just to make you happy, even without you asking, so maybe it was true. Or maybe you were getting ahead of yourself.

“(Y/n)!” Wooyoung whined, pouting as his eyes glanced over to Hongjoong who wasn’t leaving his side until they were back inside of their rented room.

“Hongjoong told me to call you later, so I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Call them tomorrow night so they can sleep.” You chuckled weakly at Hongjoong correcting him, biting your bottom lip as you decided to hold off on the many questions you had running through your head for when he was sober.

“Just have fun, okay? I love you and I’ll talk to you later.” You said quickly, hanging up before the moment lingered for too long, hoping he at least heard your own confession.

Jongho

You told him to come to the bar with you, to cut loose for once and have fun. You thought a few shots and a couple of beers would be enough to have him lose his typically uptight stature, you didn’t think you’d be stuck with an unstoppable faucet of pent up emotion.

Jongho spent the entirety of the night drinking and telling you his worries, although you didn’t mind letting him vent, you were just worried as his thoughts grew darker and weirder with each drink, you finally taking charge and leading him out of the bar and towards your car.

“Do you think I’ll do well in life?” He asked as you finally placed his seatbelt on before doing yours and starting the car.

“Of course I do. You’re doing great so far and, knowing you, you’ll keep it up.” You answered honestly, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards his dorm.

Jongho continued to speak, you answering whenever he asked questions then remaining silent so he could pick up where he left off, until he brought up a topic that really caught your attention.

“Sometimes I think I won’t find true love as an idol. It’s so hard to show people the real me, so what if I find someone who expects me to be Ateez’s Jongho and I’m just regular Jongho?” You giggled softly, keeping your eyes focused on the road as you responded.

“If they can’t accept regular Jongho, they don’t deserve regular Jongho. But they should at least know regular and Ateez Jongho are a package deal and both are amazing.”

“But would you want to be with regular Jongho?” You stayed silent for a few seconds, partially because you weren’t expecting that question and partially because you’ve thought this over way too many times and didn’t think you’d be confessing so suddenly.

“I mean, of course. We’ve been friends since birth, we know each other so well. I feel like it’d make sense.”

Despite wanting that to be the end of the conversation, embarrassed to be spilling your heart out to someone who wouldn’t even remember this conversation the next day, Jongho persisted, sitting upright in his seat and looking in your direction, eyes practically burning a hole into your skin.

“So why don’t you?”

“I-“ This is the first question to stump you. What’s stopping you from dating Jongho?

“It’d just interfere with your idol life. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“I make time for you now so I’ll do the same when we’re together.”

“’When we’re together’?” You laughed loudly, suddenly enjoying the sudden boost of confidence.

“It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even for a couple of more years, but I know we’ll be together eventually. And I’ll wait for you until we are.”

You chose to stay quiet once more, the remainder of the car ride in silence as you thought over his words, still believing confessing to a drunk person, one that is now asleep against the passenger side window, would be the same as talking to a brick wall. It wouldn’t take years, but you knew soon you’d be with Jongho and, if he managed to remember this night at all, it’d surely be tomorrow.

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[prettywordsyouleft]

Band Sessions: Dowoon

Pairing: Yoon Dowoon x reader

Genre: band au / university au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2681

Thank you to everyone who supported Band Sessions.

Index: Jae | Sungjin | Young K | Wonpil | Dowoon

It was the biggest scoop thus far for you to take on as a reporter for the campus newspaper. You had only transferred to this university at the start of the semester, and since the roles in the editing room had been well established before you came along, you had been lucky enough to be writing a weekly column as it was. Still, there was only so much of your journalism skills you could exercise in the highlights reel you had been assigned to.

So when a seasoned writer for the paper, Maggie, had fallen over skiing in the weekend, well, you had been worried for her, of course.

And secretly grateful for the opportunity to snag some of her workload.

“This is a big deal, Y/N. Day6 won another band competition on Friday night and we need someone to interview the members and write about their growing population on and off campus as a band.”

“I can do it,” you assured your editor-in-chief with a confident nod.

Gerrie sighed and looked around at the rest of the hustle in the office and then back at your face. You could tell he was hoping he could rely on someone else, perhaps someone who had already proven their talent in his eyes.

But this was going to be your moment. You had been accepted onto the newspaper team because of the stellar recommendations from your past university. There, you had usually held the third most important story of each edition. You had even saved the dying campus cafeteria after writing about their surprising culinary art.

So writing about a campus band would be a piece of cake.

“Alright, you have four days to interview them and present your article to me. It’s running in our next release.”

“I’ll get it to you on time, Gerrie,” you confirmed and picked up your notebook you had been scribbling in, shifting up out of the chair in front of the senior.

“Y/N,” he called out and you stopped to look back at Gerrie. His gaze pierced yours. “Don’t mess this up, I’m counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down, boss.”

Returning to your desk, you let an elated smile cross over your lips momentarily. You were wired up, excited to finally let your reporting prowess shine. Glancing down at the name written in the middle of the page of your notebook, you picked up your pen and circled Day6 a couple of times.

Oh yes, this would be amazing.

Once you found out who Day6 even was, that is.

Thankfully, it was never all that hard to research anything and your lack of knowledge about the five member band had been replaced with notes on all of their current accolades, how many gigs they had played this year, a fansite address, and most importantly, where their studio was located. You had even contacted the band over their official Instagram account and arranged an interview for the following evening. On your way over, you hummed along to one of their songs, Better Better, playing on Spotify through your phone, feeling more than ready to meet the band now known as regional finalists.

You could tell upon the studio door opening that this title was a big deal for them.

Sungjin, their leader, laughed heartily after greeting you, clasping his hands together and looking towards his members as he gestured for you to take a seat. “I never thought we’d be interviewed by the school paper.”

“Given you were interviewed by the local news station, it can’t be all that bad to have me here today.”

Having memorised all the members’ names, you smiled at Wonpil when he bashfully smiled, waving his hands around to dismiss the notion. “No, we’re really happy. Thank you for thinking of us!”

“Dude, you’re shaking, are you really happy?” Jae teased and leaned forward in his chair. He attention then switched to you. “You’re not taking a photo of us tonight, right?”

“No, I can use a photo from your latest gig, if you’d prefer. Your manager has sent me more than enough photos to pick from,” you offered and he somewhat relaxed, a lazy smile crossing his lips. You smiled knowingly, he definitely had a relationship with their manager as you suspected from her glowing conversation about the lead guitarist in particular.

Clearing your throat, you launched into your prepared questions after confirming it was alright to record the interview. It didn’t take long for Brian and Jae to take over, answering what you needed to know with relative ease. You picked up that whilst Sungjin was the leader, answering questions on the spot was more Brian’s forte. Still, the former was present, throwing in some witty remarks and making sure his younger members did participate.

You noticed that every time Dowoon talked, his ears would turn pink and he’d chuckle a lot. It was rather endearing, and you wondered just how many of their fans liked his shy persona. You could almost guarantee he was the type to get embarrassed being stopped on campus for a signature or photo.

“Oh yeah, he’s totally the type,” Jae confirmed with a laugh at the expense of the drummer. And then he nodded. “But Dowoon is the dark horse of our team.”

“Without a drummer keeping you all on time, how can you effectively work together,” you agreed, smiling brightly at the student now almost as red as Wonpil’s shirt. “How do you feel about the term Jae mentioned?”

Dowoon rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly and then grinned. “Well, uh, I guess I’m kind of important.”

“Kind of?” Brian echoed with a laugh. “You’re definitely important.”

“Shall we go as far as to dub you the most important member?” you offered with an encouraging smile and Dowoon shook his head. “Come on now, if you don’t keep the time, then how can you play together as in sync as you do?”

“I guess that makes sense.”

You clapped your hands together and beamed at the rest of the group. “Thank you so much for your time today. I’m looking forward to your future achievements. And the show this weekend, as well.”

“Oh, you’re coming?” Sungjin asked and you nodded.

“Sweet, if your article goes well, you can come to the after-party,” Jae offered and shrugged when Wonpil gaped at him for suggesting it on those terms.

You merely chuckled. “Well I’ll consider myself invited since you all made it easy for me to write this up, I can tell.”

You thanked them all again for their time and then headed towards the door to the studio, smiling back at everyone before stepping out.

You felt relieved. Not only had the interview gone well, but you already felt inspired to draft up your first copy of the piece. Hurrying towards the elevator, you only hoped that your hands could keep up typing the thoughts now swirling around in your mind.

“Well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m super impressed,” Gerrie announced when you handed in your article for submission. You beamed with his compliment, watching as he tried not to smile at you when he looked up. “I guess the highlights reel was not the right place to put you.”

“No, I think it humbled me.”

“Well, I’ll have to do some rearranging of the team. We’ll definitely need more of your articles running in the paper, Y/N.”

Thanking him repeatedly, you waited until you were out of the office before you began to celebrate. Pumping your hand up into the air, you let out a cheer, did a little dance on the spot and then patted your own shoulder.

When you were done singing your praises, you looked up and found someone watching you. Instead of feeling embarrassed, you grinned happily and approached the tall man whose ears were now the same colour as your blouse. “Destiny called you here, right?”

“Who’s Destiny?” Dowoon wondered and then eyed you carefully. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Never been better.”

“You ran around in a circle,” he pointed out with a small smirk. So he had enjoyed the performance you had just put on.

Nudging him playfully, you couldn’t contain your happiness. “My scoop on Day6 was a hit. I was complimented by the steely Gerrie Moore. That is not an easy feat and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Really?” he genuinely enthused and grinned. “Let me buy you a celebratory coffee then!”

“Only if you allow me to buy you a piece of cake to say thanks for helping me out,” you compromised and Dowoon laughed, nodding once.

“Are you free now?”

“Didn’t you see me just run around in a circle? Do you think I could possibly be up to anything more productive?” you mentioned with a laugh and Dowoon chuckled.

“Well then, coffee and cake it is.”

You had believed that conversation with Dowoon would be hard to achieve. Admittedly, at first, he had seemed shy. But he persisted through in asking you how you had been and you easily steered the conversation towards your hobbies and interests.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to learn the drums,” you mentioned and Dowoon’s eyebrows arched curiously.

“Really?”

You nodded. “Of course. How cool would it be to vent your annoyance by banging something?”

“There’s more to drumming than just banging at the instrument, Y/N. It takes a lot of skill.”

“Of course there is,” you agreed and then leaned over the table towards him. Dowoon eyed you cautiously. “Reckon you could show me sometime?”

“You… you want to learn?”

Nodding eagerly, you pointed to the exit. “Are you free now?”

“You just do everything on a whim, don’t you?” he asked with a laugh and you shrugged.

“When I have an idea, I want to follow it through. So, can you teach me?”

“I bet after thirty minutes you’ll never want to drum again,” he proclaimed and you gaped at Dowoon, rolling up your sleeves as if you were preparing yourself to prove him wrong.

You smirked. “I’m competitive.”

“I can tell.”

“Come on then, let’s go so I can prove you wrong!”

You did in fact, last longer than thirty minutes. But you had to admit, it was a whole lot harder than you expected. Most of the time, Dowoon had you simply kicking the bass drum in a stable rhythm. That was relatively easy until your leg tired.

Dowoon smirked. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“I can do it,” you corrected, heaving in a deep breath and trying to regain your tempo. When you had it, you smiled smugly and gestured for what was next.

“Y/N, most people learn the basics for weeks on end. You need to build up your leg muscles on the kick drum first.”

“No I want to try and incorporate my hands too!” you bit back, looking at the drum kit before you. Pointing at a part of it, you looked over at Dowoon. “This is the floor Tom, right?”

“You know your parts,” he replied with a surprised smile.

“When I research something I have an interest in, I like to know all the facts,” you commented, heaving in another breath.

Maintaining this beat was a lot harder than you wanted to let on.

“Oh yeah, is that how you knew stuff about us?”

“Of course. A reporter’s job is to find the facts and bring the story to life with them.”

“So you know about us?” he repeated and you glanced in Dowoon’s direction, your focus narrowing as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I bet you know a lot about Jae and Brian. They’re popular with the fans.”

“Your favourite colour is red, you have a dog and a cat, you love most types of meals with meat in them and you strangely like green tea ice cream.”

Dowoon blinked, and his ears turned red. “You know all that?”

“What, that’s just after a simple search from your fansites. Kind of crazy to think you have fans compiling lists like this, huh?”

“I’m grateful,” he mumbled and you nodded.

“I thought you would be.”

“Do you know anything else?” he wondered, his hand mindlessly playing with the cymbals. You examined his motion for a moment before giving up on kick pedal, collapsing over the snare drum.

“I know that my leg is about to fall off,” you heaved and Dowoon chuckled. Looking up at him, you smiled. “And that you have a nice talking voice. Your laugh is really cute too. And when you smile, I almost forget what I’m talking about. At the interview, you were the one I wanted to hear from the most.”

“Really?” Dowoon tried not to grin but it spread across his lips all the same. “You like talking to me?”

“I do. And admittedly, you were right. I don’t think I’m cut out for drumming. You’re super talented, Dowoon. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

You chewed on your lip with hesitation. However, you were known to be bold with all your thoughts. It was how you were an excellent reporter. Sometimes, the risks you took were worth a moment of feeling out of your depth.

“Well, I saw what your ideal type was listed as and hoped I matched up well enough for you to want to spend time with me. And maybe go out on a date?” For a moment, Dowoon was frozen. You weren’t even sure he was breathing still and you watched carefully to ensure he wasn’t going to collapse or anything. And then he seemed to come back alive again, unable to control his emotions. His eyes were bright and he swapped between chuckling and grinning giddily. His ears were pink, as was his neck too. He seemed to be overheating.

Reaching out for his hand, you squeezed it, hoping he would calm down a little. It seemed to work, even though Dowoon had rested against the wall to hold himself up. “You’re bold.”

“I told you, when I show an interest in something, I need to know all the facts. There’s no point in me trying to play coy with you when I like you. But, if you don’t feel the same-”

“No, I definitely do. I just… you really do match my ideal type. I’m kind of surprised that you actually exist.”

It was your turn to blush finally and Dowoon seemed to like this a little too much. “Hey, about that after-party this weekend…”

“Want to come as my date?” Dowoon asked before you could suggest anything and you nodded happily, swinging your still linked hands back and forth gently.

“I’d really like that.”

“Can I request something though?”

“What?”

Dowoon grinned. “I don’t know nearly as much as you do. Reckon you could write up a facts list like the one you found on me? That way I can learn about you too.”

“Don’t you want to find out slowly like how most people do whilst dating?”

Dowoon shook his head. “If you’re going to know all you do about me first, I want to level out the playing field.”

“I’ll have it to you by tomorrow then,” you answered, standing up from the drum kit. You weren’t prepared for how weak your leg was, and stumbled, Dowoon reaching out to catch you. Your hands went to his middle and your eyes snapped up to his.

“Oh,” you commented, blinking slowly. “I guess that’s true too.”

“What is?”

“That drummers tend to have really good bodies.”

“Y/N!” Dowoon spluttered and then laughed. “Maybe you know too much.”

“It’s my job to know a lot about things,” you countered and Dowoon nodded. You then slipped your arms around his waist, nestling into his body. You waited to see what his reaction would be but he didn’t pull away, his arms gingerly sliding up to pat you gently.

“Let me catch up. I want to know a lot of things about you too.”

_________________

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