#Hey man I started planning my novel as a teenager too

[gingermintpepper]

I am only a teenager but I really want to write novel turned into a musical called - "Titanomachy"

Well, I have fantastic news for you @kylianriley you can start writing your dream project at any age! Chances are very high you won't be a teenager when you finish writing the novel! But, genuinely, my advice - if you're in the market for such a thing - is to earnestly start if it's something you truly want to do. Give yourself time to research, give yourself time to change your plans around, give yourself time to be interested in the topics you want to explore and to really soak in what you want to portray and how. When it comes to myth-based media, it's really good to remember that this is someone's culture, that these figures are encoded with meaning and that part of telling their stories is adapting that meaning!

Good luck with writing man! Enjoy the process and learn lots of new things! There's always people waiting for good stories to be told <3

[marvelmaniac715]

Hey everyone, it’s been a couple of days, but I wanted to say that I’m doing okay. I’ve decided to start writing Chucky fics again, and there’s no better place to start than a piece in honour of Chucky’s 65th birthday. It’s kinda angsty, but I like it, and I’ve decided to lean into the Peter Pan metaphor because I recently watched the new Peter Pan and Wendy movie and now I can’t stop comparing Chucky and Peter Pan. Expect more fics soon, and remember that I’ve uploaded all 18 parts (so far) of my Chucky possessing a human body at the end of Seed au to Wattpad so that they’re all in one place. Thank you to everyone who was so kind to me over the last few days, I’m so glad that I’ve made so many amazing friends on Tumblr, and I hope you enjoy this fic :). 

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Peter Pan will never grow up. In every retelling (excluding the film Hook) the boy remains a child forever. When Charles Lee Ray was a child himself, he had greatly admired Peter Pan. He’d forced his parents to read him the novel, he’d made his mother stay up and sew a Peter Pan costume until her eyes blurred. He’d even proclaimed that he too would never grow up.

A few years went by, and that boy was now a teenager - fed up with the world and weary of life’s deceptions. He had his own little troupe of Lost Boys, and he had no mother or father. He even cut off a man’s hand as part of a ‘game’. In many respects, Charles was Peter Pan trapped in a world gone awry, and Neverland was out of his grasp.

More years passed, and that teenager was a man. He hadn’t thought about Peter Pan in years, since he had much more important things to worry about such as how he was going to hide and continue his murders. If he ever did think about his favourite childhood novel, he’d scoff about how childish he was being and then move on.

Of course, when Chucky was 31, life as he knew it came to an end. He thought briefly about Peter Pan when the prospects of possessing Andy Barclay were discussed. If the possession was successful he would be six years old again - a child. As this possibility entered his head he began to remember his first childhood, filled with memories of Peter Pan. Of course that possession plan fell through, but the thoughts of the boy who wouldn’t grow up never truly went away.

The nights were cold and lonely as a doll, Chucky never got to experience the warmth of a human body beside him anymore. He never got to feel the softness of a girl’s skin as her arms wrapped around him. So instead of wallowing in pity and self-loathing at what his life had become, he’d lie awake and stare down at his hands - a child’s hands, for the doll he was inside had been modelled after a child aged about five - and realised that his childhood desire to never grow up had come true in a way he’d never imagined possible.

Peter Pan got to choose remaining small forever, he could become an adult whenever he liked. Chucky on the other hand had made a drastic choice out of pure desperation and could never choose to go back to his old self. In a way he resented his children from all those years ago, because the mix of human and doll DNA meant that they got to grow up. Chucky would never have that chance, he couldn’t even have a drink of alcohol without his tiny body becoming overwhelmed and making him vomit it back up.

And today it was his birthday. There wasn’t much to think about most days besides ways to murder victims and how much he wanted revenge against Andy Barclay along with a few other people, so Chucky counted the days until the next special occasion. Christmas, New Year, and… birthdays. He was born in May, a month symbolic of new life, as ironic as that is. This year he was… how old was he now? Oh, that’s right. He was 65. 

In five years he would be 70. If he were human he’d be an old man by now, with failing organs, a back he never ceases complaining about and half-blind eyes. His hair would be white, or, Damballa willing, silver, because that colour had always seemed cool. Maybe he would have grown a beard over time, that was always one of his goals. But alas, because of a stupid decision he’d made in 1988, Chucky was restricted to a realm of ‘would haves’ and ‘maybes’.

Still, there was no time to be upset. After all, time’s arrow neither stands still nor reverses, it merely marches forward. With this in mind, Chucky roused himself from his melancholy thoughts and decided to complete one of his newly founded traditions. 

For the past ten or so years, Chucky had made a point of celebrating his birthday in his own special way. Of course, he’d prefer to celebrate his special day with company, but since he had barely any friends or loved ones, he had to forge his own traditions to celebrate each passing year. What he settled on (after much trial and error) was stealing a cupcake from whatever bakery or store he was closest to and using a match (for once not with the intention of setting someone on fire) to light a sad, solitary candle that he’d then poke through the top layer of icing with a frustrated grunt.

This year was no different, and as he went to blow out the candle, lit by the meagre light of the barn he was currently holed up in, he softly sang himself ‘Happy Birthday’. When the candle was extinguished, he demolished the cupcake in a few quick bites and sat back to digest, noting that this year’s cupcake was much better than the ones he’d had the last few years so he should definitely stay near here again this time next year.

This year, Chucky decided that his birthday present to himself would be a proper night of sleep for once. With this in mind, he lay down on a bed he’d haphazardly constructed out of old crates covered with a ratty old blanket and closed his eyes, drifting off to dreams of the life he’d never get to live.

[persephoneflouwers]

Hello Angie!

I hope you don’t mind the novel but hey you wanted to share thoughts so here I am!

Rationalize is a big word but me thinks this is happening for various reasons, you tell me what you think about these options:

- Louis has this persona of “not wanting to grow up” so a younger girlfriend fits what everybody knows about him. She also seems to be tailored to the het audience who wants to “date him” and might identify with her. You know, sort of what El 1.0 was in 2012, the girl next door sort of thing but still “a fashion model” (who does no modeling, lol). But these pap pics feel precisely planned to make her look like a fan, so the message seems to be if she can date him, all fans can too! He’s a normal dude dating a normal girl who looks just like you! Buy tickets to his concerts and you might get lucky (because I can pretty much guess she’s gonna disappear real quickly and he’s going to be *available* and party boy during tour 🥲)

- There’s extra gayness in the documentary so having a son wasn’t enough. Seems unlikely but who knows? Rainbows can’t be erased from his tour shots, so I guess it’ll have to be addressed in some way.

- Also having a new romance in general helps with publicity, so for him to be talked about before the doc release. I still would have picked a higher profile, maybe another musician girl, if you really needed to sell a certain image AND benefit Louis and expand his audience, but again let’s be real I think his PR is incompetent. If I have to give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe the fan, down to earth girl angle is what they actually wanted to achieve with picking a good-looking nobody (back to point 1). It’s clearly benefitting her more than him (she went from 5K followers this morning to what, 35K now?)

- last wild though, maybe there was something with Eleanor wearing his clothes and still posting from his house that didn’t sit well with someone? So they needed to make a point? Wild but we’ve seen worse so keeping all options open.

I genuinely don’t know, but a mix options 1 and 3 seem the more rational. What do you think?

Last thought: I really hope she was ready and well informed before agreeing to this, but the whole shitshow with the Pinterest pins and Spotify playlists tells me there was a level of naivety on her end which is alarming. She was probably guided into this by a reckless agent with who knows what promises and it scares me. I don’t mind the age gap (my parents started dating when she was 18 and he was 29), but I do mind the fact that she’s likely too young to handle the hate she’s getting, regardless of the economic gains she’ll get from this it’s going to be traumatic if you don’t have the right support to handle it/maturity.

Hello, angel! Thank you for sharing <3 I will slowly go through your thoughts and explain what I think.

1. The forever young boy is interesting, bc Louis comes off as the loud hyperactive guy sometimes. Unfortunately I think they burned this option out when they gave him a fake kid lol

2. I think feeding such a dream to his fans is a huge underdevelopment, but it’s loyal to his fanbase origin. Still. It’s so cringe for me that a 31 yo man with a kid goes out with a young girl who pins tiktoks and random tattoos researches on Pinterest. It’s counterproductive, dumb and lazy. I don’t look at them as examples and I don’t expect them to do smart shit. we’re talking about rich people growing up as completely detouched from normal world since they were teenagers. Me and them, you and them? We’re not the same as them. I hoped he was smarter than this tho. Of course this can be useful as promo for the doc… will it tho, we know how his team and the media treat his content and projects, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t get any coverage not even with these pics. I don’t think that’s how you expand a fanbase or get more people curious in his work.

3. I think Eleanor simply wanted to be out for whatever reason. I think they replaced her with a new one bc E wasn’t going to engage with bg. She has never and she won’t (so far). I hope this new girl did her homework because fandom is hard to manage.

[viviennevermillion]

Hey! Could I have prompt 4 with Cyno x reader pls? thx :3

Life After You

notes: this work is part of my 3k followers event! check out my pinned post for the event masterlist and further info. I also sincerely apologize to the people who requested first for doing these out of order but I gotta write what I'm inspired to atm or else I'll never get started. Also once again, feel free to check out my genshin discord :3

prompt: all that I'm after is a life full of laughter as long as I'm laughing with you, and I'm thinking that all that still matters is love ever after, after the life we've been through; 'cause I know there's no life after you

song these lyrics are from: life after you [daughtry]

contains: cyno x reader, fluff

warnings: none

"Two Shawarma Wraps please!", you smiled at Lambad as you paid for the food you had ordered. It wasn't hard to notice your good mood. After all, you had enough reason to smile, given that the man you loved was coming home from work earlier today and had promised to spend the rest of his day with his beloved. So since you still had some time to spare until Cyno would return, you had decided to get lunch for the two of you to surprise him.

It was a beautiful day, however, if you were honest, you didn't have any plans to leave the house again before the sun set. You were looking forward to just spend a day alone with Cyno, away from the prying eyes who recognized him as the General Mahamatra.

Just as you were fumbling with your keys at the entrance to the house you lived in, you felt two arms wrapping around your waist and a soft kiss on the back of your neck before Cyno nuzzled his face into your neck. "Ah, there you are already", you chuckled and turned around to properly greet your boyfriend with a kiss. "I missed you", Cyno said softly and kissed your cheek gently multiple times. You held up the packaged Shawarma Wraps. "I got us food", you exclaimed triumphantly. Cyno kissed your forehead and held up a finger. "Thank you, love. I got you something too", he seemed more excited than usual and started searching for something in his backpack.

He handed you a book. "It's the newest Genius Invokation TCG novel", he tried to say this calmly but you could see how he was internally ready to jump up and down like a teenage girl who had just gotten a text back from her crush, "they changed back to the original author so now there won't be any controversies regarding the main character fighting with a card that was never even in the game." You had heard him rant about this part of the story multiple times. He was always a little conflicted whether it was still within the rules of the game or not.

Cyno had introduced you to Genius Invokation TCG and he made it sound so interesting, that you agreed to read all the novels he was ready to lend to you and he had taught you how to play the game yourself. Now it was one of your favorite shared activities to engage in.

You remembered how Cyno had asked you for genuine feedback on whether you found his jokes funny. Knowing that he valued honesty, you told him that they weren't always funny, but that you still loved them and they still always lightened your mood. They made you at least chuckle most of the time, not because they were hilarious, but because telling unfunny jokes was so unapologetically Cyno that you couldn't help but feel happiness. You loved the man with all your heart, after all. You always encouraged him to keep making jokes, so he could never be mad that you didn't find them funny quite frequently.

You had followed up your statement with telling Cyno that you also just really enjoyed his voice. "A lot of your jokes sound more like you're telling a story", you remarked, "and quite frankly, you'd be a fantastic storyteller. I'd listen to you read the entire Genius Invokation TCG novel. Hell, I'd listen to you read me an overly specific instruction manual." Cyno had taken that a little too serious. Or rather, he saw this statement as a wonderful opportunity to tease you.

You had recently bought a very simple kitchen shelf that was built together in less than 15 minutes. Nevertheless, the instruction manual was overly complicated, written in 5 different languages and had 20 pages. And Cyno was determined to read all of them to you. You were sitting on the couch, trying to write while Cyno was reading the very detailed description of the process for building a small kitchen shelf. "Cyno, I'm trying to write Tighnari a birthday card, you're distracting me", you pouted as he leaned closer and whispered in your ear with a very serious voice. "Turn the screwdriver 20 times counter-clockwise-", was all he got out before you softly hit his face with a pillow but couldn't help but laugh. "You're impossible", you shook your head seeing that Cyno was laughing too. "Make sure that the board is fixed within the shelf frame before moving on to the next one...."

"Shut up", you grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little, "please...."

You chuckled before continuing with the birthday card. Cyno did fall silent. Instead he was now trailing kisses down your neck and then guided your chin so you'd face him. He kissed you passionately, pulling you into his lap. After the kiss you rolled your eyes at him. "Now I wrote 'I got you this Inazuma from flower. Happy Birth, Tighnari!'", you chucked another pillow at him, "look at what you've done. We're writing a new card and this time you'll be the one writing." "Fine by me", Cyno gave in and let out a soft chuckle before picking up the instruction manual again so you'd shut him up with another kiss. Cyno suggested you could simply add a joke to the card to distract from the mistakes you had made. "I would, but Tighnari would probably strangle both of us."

This was a side of him only you got to see and you felt blessed everytime he showed it to you, even though he was a tease sometimes. But this was how he had promised to read the new Genius Invokation TCG novel with you once it came out. You were looking forward to listening to his soothing voice and being snuggled up to his chest while listening to the story. You were just as excited about discussing the lore and story with him afterwards, coming up with theories for the next edition, which Cyno always loved to hear.

"What are you thinking about?", Cyno asked curiously, snapping you out of your memories as you opened the door. "Just remembered that time you read an instruction manual to me", you snickered. "I can do that again", he gave you a wink as you walked up the stairs.

After a moment of silence, Cyno raised his voice again. "I don't trust stairs. They're always up to something", he was already anticipating your reaction before you laughed at his joke. "Okay that one was actually good", you rewarded him with a kiss before entering your flat with him. "I got a laugh out of you! Win for me!", he proudly exclaimed as you put the Shawarma Wraps on the kitchen counter.

"The food smells amazing", Cyno remarked. "I know right?", you grinned and gave him fingerguns, "it's a meal you simply can't Cyno to." He stared at you for a second before the punchline dawned on him. "You get it, what makes this joke funny is a wordplay of the words 'say no' and your name-", you explained. Cyno was basically wheezing at this point. You grinned, imagining the reactions of the other matra if they saw him like this. "God, I love you", Cyno whispered and pulled you close, kissing you once again. He even let out another chuckle as he was kissing you. You buried a hand in his hair and wrapped the other around his waist, beginning to gently draw circles onto his back with your fingertips which made Cyno sigh into the kiss and melt into your embrace. His tongue circled around yours and his hand held your cheek as he poured all the love he felt for you into his kiss.

You parted from him with a smile on your face. "Cyno, the- mmph", your words were cut off by Cyno once again pressing his lips to yours. You kissed him back for half a minute before pushing him away gently. "The food is going to get cold", you chuckled, "man that joke really landed, huh?" "The archons blessed me with such a wonderful significant other with a fantastic sense of humor", he linked his fingers with yours on the kitchen table as you were getting ready to have lunch. "I'm sure plenty of people would disagree with that, Cyno", you laughed before enjoying your Shawarma Wrap with him in silence.

The first time Cyno heard you make a dad joke was probably the moment he fell for you. It was your very first Genius Invokation TCG game night with Tighnari, Cyno and Kaveh and the four of you had dinner together before playing the game. Tighnari had talked about how legends said, that sometimes due to the Dendro Archons power, when someone in Sumeru was suffering, the forest would be there to comfort them. "The plants in the Apam Woods have actually been shown to respond to their surroundings, including the emotions of peop- y/n what are you laughing about?", Tighnari raised his eyebrows at you snickering across the table, "what's so funny?"

It took you a while to catch your breath before you whispered under your breath: "Oh my god....they photosympathize...."

It was the first time you heard Cyno laugh. Not a polite chuckle, like he usually let out when he was amused, but the General Mahamatra straight up snorted and started wheezing next to you while Tighnari was shaking his head in disappointment. "Out. Both of you. Get out of my house", Tighnari joked and buried his head in his hands. But you hardly registered that, as you were too busy staring at the man next to you, noticing how his laugh was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Feeling the urge to make him smile everytime you saw him. Up until now, none of that had ever faded. Your love for him only grew with every day you spent with him.

"I love you so much", you told him and put your hand over his after you had finished your Shawarma Wrap. "There's Tahini sauce all over your hands", Cyno commented dryly pulling his hand away to wash it. "It was a gift", you mused and followed him. "Wonderful. I feel so blessed", he replied sarcastically, pulling you back into his arms after you had washed the sauce off your own hands.

You cupped his face with one hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?", you smiled at him. "You tell me everyday", he reminded you, but it was evident that it still made him a little flustered, "I believe we have a novel to read." He got a big blanket from the drawer and wrapped it around the two of you as you were sitting on the couch and you were leaning against his chest, closing your eyes as his fingers gently ran up and down your back.

Cyno began reading the new Genius Invokation TCG novel to you and you loved how soft his voice sounded. Occasionally, you would interrupt to discuss several important plot points and express your feelings about the story.

"I can't believe they just killed this character off that early in the story", Cyno was baffled. "I'm an emotional mess", you hid your face in Cyno's neck and he gave you a headpat. "Shh, I'm sure they'll avenge him. Also there's still a chance he might come back with the super rare revival card."

You got through about a quarter of the novel before tiredness settled in and Cyno noticed you slowly falling asleep in his arms. He put the book down and wrapped both of his arms around you, pressing multiple gentle kisses to your forehead. Well, he thought to himself, we can always continue reading the novel some other time.

After all, you had a whole life to share.

[vampiregirl1797]

The Starlight Stone

GIF not mine.

Rhysand x Reader

Word Count: 4,898

Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.

Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.

Masterlist Here :)

Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.  

I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.  

He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.  

‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.  

‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.  

‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.

‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.  

He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’

I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’  

Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’  

I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.  

‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.

‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’  

‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.

‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.  

I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.  

‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’  

Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.  

Six Months Later

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’  

His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.  

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’  

I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.  

I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.  

‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.

I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’  

She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’  

I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’  

She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’  

I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’  

‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’  

‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.  

‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’

‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’

She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.

For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.  

It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’

It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’

‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’

‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’  

She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’

I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’

‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.

‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.

‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.

I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.  

//

The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.  

‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’  

He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’

I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.  

I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.  

‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.

‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’

I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’  

‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.

‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’  

I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.  

‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’

He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.

//

I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.  

Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.

Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.  

I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.  

I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.

//

After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.  

My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.

‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?  

His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.

‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.

‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.

‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.  

He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’

‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.

His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.

‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.  

I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.

//

One Year Later

‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.  

‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.

‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.

‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.  

‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.  

‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.

We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.  

Home. This was home.

[irons-enough]

June 1881 (Teenage Arthur Morgan)

A short little ficlet inspired by this amazing photo edit by @foundynnel which made me obsessed with the idea of cocky bastard teenage Arthur. Maybe I’ll expand on this one day (Red Dead YA novel, anyone?) but it was fun to write!

Rating: G Tags: Language, teeny bit of blood

Wyoming Territory - June 1881 

Arthur Morgan spat blood into the dirt. His eyes were bright with adrenaline and, just beneath the surface, an unbridled fury. His split lip curled into an arrogant smile as he raised his fists again. "That all you got?" 

His opponent cycled between shock and rage that Arthur had not gone down in one hit. but it was the look in his eyes--the insufferable, cocky stare of a seventeen-year-old drifter with a six-shooter and a foul attitude--that made him swing wide to slam his fist into the little son of a bitch's face. Arthur was ready; waiting, in fact. He raised his arm to bar the swing and with his other hand punched upward into the man's jaw. He heard the crack of bone at the same time the break reverberated through his fist, and the man fell as suddenly and heavily as he had fallen asleep, groaning helplessly as he cradled his broken jaw. 

Arthur shook out his hand, swiped the blood from his lower lip. He smirked in satisfaction at the stunned silence of the onlookers. He made a show of dusting off his shirt and casually picking up his hat from where it lay in the road. “Gentlemen,” he said in farewell, with a polite nod to the assembled crowd.

________________________________________

"Arthur. What the fuck?" 

Arthur smirked at Dutch's greeting as he arrived at their campsite, tried and failed to look innocent. "Well, hey to you, too." 

"You wanna explain why the entire goddamn town is talkin' about some cocky hotshot kid layin' out the local stable hand?" 

"Really? They are?" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes brightening. Dutch whacked him upside the head. "Ow!" 

"Tell me, son, when Hosea and I say 'Don't do anything stupid', what exactly is it that you hear?" Dutch demanded. 

Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "Not much, I guess." 

"Oh, that's evident." Dutch's dark eyes narrowed at Arthur's defiant expression. "You listenin’' to me?" 

"Sure, just not your goddamn sarcasm," Arthur spat. 

"You got some attitude, you--" He bit back the curse that was just shy of forming on his lips. "Susan!" he yelled. "Deal with him. I'm not his goddamn father; not my job to deal with his bullshit." 

"Oh, and so now it’s mine?!" Susan's voice fell like a hatchet even from a distance. Arthur leaned his head on his fist to hide his grin as Susan and Dutch argued over whose problem he was this time. 

Hosea knocked his fist into Arthur’s shoulder, beckoning. “Come on, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed as he hauled himself to his feet, as though it was a major inconvenience. He followed Hosea over to the front of the abandoned cabin at their campsite, a decrepit old building with a half-collapsed roof. Hosea struck a match against his boot heel and lit a cigarette as he leaned against the side of the cottage.

“Can I get one?” said Arthur.

“No.”

“C’mon, Hosea...” “Shut up. Get over here.”

Arthur slumped against the wall beside Hosea. He took his pistol from its holster and toyed with it: spinning it around his fingers as he drew, looking down the sights as he pointed it at the dirt. Hosea snatched it from him deftly. “What the hell?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Arthur, you wanna live to see twenty?” said Hosea.

“Who cares?” Arthur’s head lolled so that his hat hid his eyes.

“I care. And you should care.” Hosea’s voice was even now, but still severe. “You’re still a goddamn kid, you don’t know anything yet. Suffice it to say if you’re stupid enough to get yourself killed before twenty, you’re better off dead. And that’s not you, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Arthur mumbled.

“Me and Dutch have things in the works to get us a score. And if you’re gonna be a goddamn idiot and draw attention to yourself, that’ll be the last time you’re involved in anything we do.”

“It weren’t even so bad,” Arthur complained. “How’m I supposed to know you got plans when you never tell me a goddamn thing? Why be a goddamn criminal if you can’t do what you want? Ain’t no point.”

“The point is to live through it, Arthur. Money’s no good to you if you’re dead. Now when we need to lie low, keep our noses clean, it’s because we got something big in the works, and we can’t risk the plans while we’re still layin’ tracks. You know that. You’re a hell of a lot of things son, but a complete fool ain’t one of ‘em.” Hosea dropped his cigarette and ground it out into the dirt. “Not one of us acts alone, boy. Part of runnin’ together means sacrificing your own selfish desires for the good of the group.”

“I know that,” Arthur grumbled.

“Well, it’s high time you acted like it.” Hosea flipped Arthur’s pistol out of his hand with a flourish, catching it by the barrel. He held out the grip toward Arthur. “Stay here a while,” he said. “Somethin’ tells me I need to talk down Dutch and Susan.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Hosea was already walking away. “I don’t quite care, son. Sit here and do nothing. Be still for once in your life.”

Arthur scowled and sighed, kicked up dust with his boot. For all the stealing and shooting Dutch and Hosea wanted him to do, they sure knew how to treat him like a goddamn idiot sometimes. Maybe the day would come when he could boss them around.

He looked in the direction of the setting sun, toward California where they had come from. There was always new country to explore, new people to rob, more money to be made, more sunsets to see. Every time Arthur leveled his gun at a man and made him act, or freeze, or die--it started a whole new adventure. Some were good. Some were great. Others he wished he could forget, and there were still more that had left him with scars and foul memories that endured well beyond what they should. For the past five years, Arthur Morgan had lived for sunsets like this one, and he couldn’t wait for a lifetime more.

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

————————————

Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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

Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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

Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Cowboy - Part 7

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol) -- her boss in this part brings up gender.

Word count: 2827

This series will be updated every Thursday and Friday.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because everything that transpired earlier had felt like a dream and closing your eyes made the most sense. You wondered if you had actually been reading one of those novels Natalia had packed for you to pass by a rainy afternoon and conjured up the delicious events that had occurred in your mind until you roused from your slumber.

No. You knew you had been within the strong arms of Jaehyun’s for some time. And after you both became still from the bountiful passion, the last thing you remembered was his lips softly pressing over one of your brows, and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were at peace.

As you became alert again, however, your bliss felt short-lived as panic rose in your chest.

Had Jaehyun spent his afternoon with you and then departed? It did make sense if he had. There was always a lot to do on the ranch and playing around with you all day long would no doubt put further strain on the daily chores.

But it was Sunday, and as Jaehyun stated yesterday, the weekends were for rest.

As you gathered yourself up, wrapping your robe around your body, you looked around your room. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Going into the bathroom next, you saw the pile of damp clothing was gone, including your own.

“Maybe I really did dream it all up,” you mumbled dejectedly, going down the stairs at a snail’s pace, each step descending you further into despair.

Just how much did you like Jung Jaehyun?

You knew part of the dejection came with your past. As a woman with a career, you had often struggled with relationships. You knew of successful people who managed both, but you weren’t so lucky. You invested too much time into your job or personal growth that having a partner felt somewhat of a burden. When you did attempt to make room in your schedule for someone, it never felt genuine enough. You were used to sleeping with corporate bachelors, finding the bed empty of their presence once you woke again. There was nothing that spurred you on to find true romance within the city.

Dream or not, you had hoped Jaehyun would be different.

Slumping into the kitchen, you stopped and blinked rapidly when several sounds and smells hit you at once. It felt foreign to stand there and watch the back of a man over your stovetop cooking something that made a sizzling sound. As you regained some coherency, you realised it was bacon and eggs and the man before you was the one that had travelled with you all the way to Nirvana more than once.

Jaehyun hadn’t gone anywhere.

Overwhelmed with relief and the swelling in your chest, you rushed forward and buried yourself into his back. Jaehyun relaxed into your embrace and chuckled. “Missed touching me that much, huh?”

“You didn’t go.”

“Of course not. That would be rude of me to just—hey. Are you crying?”

You tightened your grip around his waist so he couldn’t turn to confirm his suspicions. Sniffling, you shook your head against him. “No.”

“Have I overstayed? I thought you might be hungry, is all. I figured whilst you rested, I should dry my clothes and then I wanted to make sure you ate something before I left. We’ve been rather physical today, both in and out of the house. You need to regain some energy.”

You pressed your lips into his clothed left shoulder blade and hummed in response. A smile crossed your lips with how relieved you felt. Your emotions, normally well in check, were now over the place and you were surprised with how giddy you were after foolishly crying over his back.

Blayne was surely changing the way you processed things. And Jaehyun was affecting your heart in ways you didn’t quite understand yet.

You didn’t want to try to figure it out either. If you started to apply logic to the situation, you might end up in a position that didn’t allow you to hold onto Jaehyun anymore.

You were too comfortable nestled into him like this.

“You know, I’m trying to cook here.”

“Am I bothering you from doing so?” you queried with a giggle, and Jaehyun moved quickly, a squeak coming from you as he grabbed you and pulled you in front of him. You reached for the spatula he had placed down in the bustle as he wrapped his arms around you. “Oh, so it’s now on me to cook, huh?”

“I wanted to experience what was making you feel so good right now,” Jaehyun murmured into you, peppering you in light kisses over your neck. “I can see why you didn’t want to let go.”

“Missed touching me already?” you teased and grinned when he chuckled softly near your ear.

“You made a bad choice in sleeping with this Cowboy, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, how so?”

“I might want to keep doing it more often.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you nudged him playfully. “The food is ready. Let’s eat before we discuss where you’re going to bed tonight.”

The new week started with a smile permanently embedded upon your lips. You had kissed Jaehyun goodbye earlier before the sun had risen, knowing he had to get home before the day of work began for him.

You managed to fall asleep for a little longer until your alarm went off, and you happily took a shower and got dressed. You had a Zoom call at ten with Pierce to discuss the planning process so far and took your time preparing for your drive to the township over for stable internet connection.

All whilst humming a happy tune to yourself.

You could tell you were still on a high from the connection made with Jaehyun yesterday. It wasn’t just because of the sex, though you had to admit, he was an exceptionally good lover. Last night, you hadn’t moaned his name around the walls when you climbed into bed with him, though. He had simply held you and told you some stories about his upbringing, and you had shared your own. You felt content. It was a first that you had met someone who wanted to know more about you than what was under your clothes.

It empowered you as you drove down the country roads, stopping when you saw a familiar horse cantering across a field towards you.

Jaehyun pulled Blaze to an easy halt and tipped his hat in greeting at you, and your insides did a somersault. You felt like a teenager experiencing your first crush as you leaned out the window beaming up at him.

“Hello, Cowboy.”

“It’s a good morning today, Miss City. Off to work?”

“I have a Zoom meeting with my boss,” you mentioned, and Jaehyun nodded. You glanced over at another horse in the distance rounding up the cattle. “Shouldn’t you be over there helping poor Avery?”

“Poor Avery? You’re more worried about my cousin than me?” Jaehyun asked as he leaned his forearm onto the horn of the saddle. “I’m wounded.”

“You’ll be fine. The man I spent a lot of time with yesterday seemed pretty strong and capable.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Did he now?”

Avery was now on his way over, and you straightened up in your seat, wiping the adorable smile off your lips. Jaehyun frowned at your sudden disposition and then glanced lazily over his shoulder. “Are we hiding this?”

“No. Yes. No… I mean, I don’t know. People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea will that be?”

You scrunched your face up as you answered. “That I’m willing to sleep my way around to get changes here.”

Jaehyun was silent for a moment and then burst into hearty laughter when Avery came to a stop. The newcomer looked between you both and then cocked his head to the side. “What joke did I just miss out on?”

“Miss City here just made my day,” Jaehyun managed to say, adjusting the hat over his head from how amused he had gotten. “I think I’m going to be laughing all day after that one.”

“It wasn’t meant to be funny!” you exclaimed and waved off Avery. “Ignore him. He’s not all with it.”

“He’s been in an exceptionally good mood all morning. Maybe you might know of why, Y/N?”

“Me?!” you asked in an octave higher and shook your head. “I uh-”

“You best get to work before you’re late for that meeting with your city people, Y/N,” Jaehyun reminded, and you gasped, nodding eagerly.

“Good luck!” Avery called, and both men tipped their hats and farewell and turned the horses around.

You watched on only for a moment longer before driving off again.

“What is the status between Jaehyun and me?”

Whilst you didn’t quite know how close you would get to the cowboy, you hoped that what you had experienced over the last twenty-four hours wasn’t the end of it.

With the way Jaehyun had looked at you before, you were certain it was only the beginning.

“I see you’ve assimilated to being one of them,” your boss mentioned with a sly chuckle as he answered your Zoom call. You frowned, and he gestured to your outfit he could see through the video.

“Ah,” you breathed, glancing down at your sundress and then nodded. “I have plans to meet with Mrs Jung here after our meeting today. I didn’t wish to impose on her in office attire. They don’t wear anything quite like it out here.”

“Don’t come back to the office and think you can wear that here. You’re a little too relaxed by the looks of things. I hope you don’t see this as a paid holiday, Y/N.”

“I would never!” you pointed out and then cleared your throat, picking up your copy of your proposal you had printed out at the library just before. With a strained smile, you looked at your boss through the screen. “Shall we start with my recommendations?”

You had only gotten to page eight of your report when Pierce threw it down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “This won’t work.”

“It’s just my preliminary findings, Pierce. I’m still meeting with the people and finding out what they need for this to be pulled off.”

“I don’t care about housing. Where is the report I asked for about my resort land in the first place? We will not be focusing on any of this in our redevelopment, Y/N.”

“Pierce!” you exclaimed, shaking your head at your laptop’s screen. “We need to focus on the development of what’s here first before-”

“We’re not coming into the area to take on the complaints of the people in Blayne and serve their needs first, Y/N. We’re here to scout out the best place for a resort. That’s all. Besides, once we do that, there will be more jobs, and then the development of the county overall will make sense for those to undertake in the area.”

“They won’t agree to it,” you told your boss. “These people need to be offered hope first. They are very closed off to the concept of a resort. What Blayne needs is more housing to help bring in workers to the farms first.”

“When a resort comes into that area, do you think the farms will be at the forefront? Don’t worry about them. Worry about your job. You know, the one I sent you down there to do in the first place. I didn’t take you for being so soft, Y/N. I guess being a woman makes you more sympathetic to these people.”

You gaped at your boss. “That is sexism, Pierce. My gender has nothing to do with how I’m handling things here. Yes, it will mean a delay in building the resort, but I know my idea will lead to the end goal becoming achievable.”

“I don’t care how many people live there.” Pierce steepled his fingers together on top of his desk and leaned closer to his webcam. “They could all get driven out of there for all I care. The resort is what I want to hear about.”

You laughed incredulously. “They’ve been here for generations. They aren’t going to give up their land for any type of pressure you’re suggesting. It was you who told me that I needed to work into the people’s favour, don’t you remember? That’s what I have been doing!”

“Have you? Because all it seems that you can report to me about is a sad township that you want to build up and not about locating the most perfect place for a golf range.”

You clamped your eyes shut in attempts to compose yourself. “I’ve yet to reach page fourteen of the proposal in this meeting. I’ve already noted down where I think the resort and amenities can go once we get the support from the locals.”

Your boss was quiet for a moment, perusing the documents before him and a finger rose to his mouth as he took in the information. A smile grew on his lips. “The back property of the Jungs, you say? Your first mission is to secure that land. Get it to me in two months.”

“Two months?! Are you serious?”

“Deadly. Unless you’re softening to all that country charm they chime on about out there.”

“Blayne needs-”

“I need you to perform your job. Stop worrying about what the people want. Give them what they need. And that is a tourism destination that will bring them greater riches than the bare land and cows ever will.”

_________________

Part 8

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[fishmongeringstudies]

six: wandering the city while waiting for a train that'll never come, you stop to wave at a dog on the street only to realize you have mistaken a crumpled bag of mcdonald's for a chihuahua

i almost slipped and died in the shower today. luckily i didn't, because i read somewhere that slipping and dying in the shower makes it a little hard for you to finish writing a manuscript for a novel fictionalizing the events of your freshman spring semester that's definitely going to become a new york times bestseller in about four years' time, but i came pretty close. for a moment i had my hand on the wall and my legs splayed like a barbie doll stuck to a stripper pole and the matchbox world behind the shower curtain was slipping steadily south and heading lower still. and then i caught myself.

several minutes later i heard scuffling beyond the pale, soapy shower curtain and thought there might be someone creeping on me. if someone was creeping on me i had an idea of who it might be, which made the prospect all the more likely and infinitely more convincing inside the grapefruit-sized thing i called my brain. then i heard the clap of god's hands in an ashen sky, and i knew. this was no man made disaster-in-waiting. it had begun to rain.

it didn't rain for long. five minutes at best, two if my grasp on the spatial-temporal continuum is worse than i'd imagined (this is very likely; the stars pass me by faster than i can count them these days), but long enough that anyone who happened to be outside when that first teardrop fell from the sky got a little wet. a little fucked up, if you will, which, hey. good for him. he deserves to get a little fucked up.

but i get carried away. please excuse my personal grievances. this is not a lament, it is a swimming pool. full of tiny colorful fish which flit around at its bottom, chasing strands of sunlight like children on a playground.

the weather forecast says it'll rain again tomorrow, and maybe the day after, too, if the world stays sad enough to let it happen. it makes me nostalgic. when i left in february monsoon season was in full swing, tearing trees from their roots with big meaty hands and making every fleeting boring moment into the kind of gray sunday afternoon on which i imagine the directors of romantic dramas like to shoot break-ups. rain in singapore looks different. it's not a bucket full of water, it's a room. a blue room against a silver sky. your socks stuck to your ankles with the kind of grim determination that makes you almost a little sad to peel them off, to toss them in the washing machine behind the kitchen. there's a little balcony behind the kitchen in the house you left in february, with a washing machine and a ledge for sitting on and a dryer that doesn't work. you used to go there when you wanted to check on the restaurant across the street. from here you can make out the round, blue-rimmed tables that attract students, biking enthusiasts, three am brawls between red-faced european men and their red-faced european friends. if there's noise on this side of the street, it's probably coming from there.

summer. summer reminds me of home. so far i've been telling people that the association is a bad one, and it certainly isn't a lie, but it's not a whole truth either, if one believes in the matter of whole truths to begin with. i'm starting to think maybe there are only skim-milk truths, clotted cream truths, 0% fat yogurt truths. truths that change shape when you aren't looking. we aren't looking most of the time, after all. we're very busy people. all of us. we're trying to change the world.

and for what? who are we trying to save? do you want to live forever? that's the goal, isn't it. i mean it's definitely mine. i won't blame you if the concept of death sits on your shoulder like a fourth generation ipod touch with a broken home button, whispering really fucked up shit into your ear when you're alone. i mean it definitely does for me.

puzzle-girl is in new york now, last i checked. good for her. i hear new york is full of lights and electricity and car exhaust. maybe one day she will learn that friendship isn't an emergency help-line. probably not. my friend thinks she will, thinks we'll come back around in our junior year and everyone will see us stuck to each other again like two grotesque modern art pieces drilled back-to-back into a museum exhibit wall only with a firm mutual understanding of what boundaries are, but i have my doubts.

once someone told me with the kind of half-fake half-genuine smile that makes you wonder if AI technology has advanced far enough to mimic the complexities of stupid hormonal teenagers with really bad interpersonal issues after all that i was blooming. coincidentally all the flowers on campus had suddenly decided to poke their heads out of the dirt like babies busting their way out of refrigerators, guns blazing, hearts shot to pieces, so it's not like he was completely bullshitting me. he was only ninety-eight percent bullshitting me. the two percent is why he comes up in my writing as often as he does, all this time later. like i think he was ninety-eight percent clown but two percent circus, two percent red-nosed reindeer trying to unionize behind a striped curtain, two percent something real. or at least i like to think that way. i'm a writer. we have to pretend there's something to write about. or else what will we write about?

so yeah. one time someone told me i was blooming. at the time i was embarrassed. and then after the story put an abrupt end to itself i was madly obsessed with the idea of flowers jutting out of cracks in the earth, gold pouring forth from blood-wounds, poinsettia eyes, whatever, whatever, and then the flowers started wilting. standing on the path outside my dorm i was like what the fuck? why the hell is everything dying? it's been like three days, god, what are you guys made of, tissue paper?

i was talking to the flowers. which died in spite of my indignation, so that's one for nature, zero for me. good for them. see you next spring, when things will, hopefully, be different. i don't have a plan as much as i have a dream i'd like to see walk into reality on three legs and a pitchfork. but it's a good dream. i promise.

the sky's clear as glass now. it's so bright i could probably stick my hand up there and stir vigorously and then an angel would emerge from the ether, rubbing her eye sleepily with the back of her hand. that's the kind of clarity i'm talking about. making metaphors about christianity-clarity. i am lonely and my dreams are full of beautiful people-clarity.

that's a lie-clarity. loneliness is, as mentioned in a previous installment of the meandering car accident i call this blog, a choice, and i'm too lazy and full of my own slew of interpersonal issues to commit to something like that. but summer is new, and it's like i'm getting used to the body in my basement all over again. how do i step around it, how do i make sure i don't look at its face? and its eyes, oh, those eyes. how terrible. how full of absence.

there will be exactly two hundred students on campus when summer move-ins are finished next week. this school has a population of nearly sixteen hundred. what are we doing?

research. academia. learning a new language. road trips. plane trips. horse riding lessons. research. academia. learning a new language. relationships. spaceships. building a ladder to the moon.

it feels like the sun never sets sometimes. the hours slide into one another like tectonic plates beneath the surface of the world and yet the sky remains just as it looked this afternoon, milk-white and pale as death. a hot summer wind blows and sends the clouds careening sideways into each other, and yet from this distance nothing changes. drop a body in a bathtub and nothing changes. beat someone up and nothing changes. survive thirteen weeks of bad mistakes and then worse ones, midnight mistakes, thursday evening mistakes, the kind of mistake you don't think you'll ever be able to write about, and still nothing changes.

they say there's always a silver lining but what if i want fur instead? let's say i want a fur-lined sky with fur-lined clouds and a little heart-shaped toy that makes a sound when you step on it. let's say i want to be fifteen again. the sky doesn't care. it still looks like a damn sky. the sky doesn't do things out of sentimentality.

it's just kind of there. today i'm just kind of here. today we're all alive. good for you. good for me. good thing my hand was on the wall when i slipped in the shower, so i could get out and dry my hair and then sit down in this shitty weird-smelling lounge with my laptop with the cracked touchpad and my cool elmo slippers, and tell you about this solitary life on mars.

05.26.2021

[childrenofthenightt]

only the black rose (chapter 5)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: talks of parental abandonment, off-scene injury, drug use (legal!), fluff, and me waxing poetic about one of my favourite books. and more fluff.

words: 3.1k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: this one wrote itself. i expected to take longer with it cause of this. this is the start of the Chaos seen in the 1975 North American tour, so hold onto your hats and enjoy! congrats! you’ve unlocked layla’s tragic backstory! unbeta’d as always, and here’s the link to the playlist :)

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

----------

Soon enough, the band make their way home, basking in the golden glow of a couple of excellent shows. It’s only a matter of days until the start of the North American tour, and the excitement is palpable. The boys find themselves at the studio, running through some last-minute tour details, accompanied by a certain brunette firecracker, who sits reading comfortably in the lobby.

Layla, sitting on a luxurious couch just outside of the meeting room, is drowning in a hardcover book, consuming every word at a ravenous pace. The sound of pages flipping periodically is accompanied by the light din of voices detailing the upcoming tour. Lost in the story in front of her, she is surprised when she hears a person clearing their throat, seemingly right in front of her. Looking up, she spots the secretary of Swan Song Records, a woman with glasses and long brown hair ran through with gray, pinned up in a low bun. Light freckles dusted her cheeks. Judging by the crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes, the secretary had to have been older than Layla, perhaps around 50, though her bright smile gave the impression of youth.  

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss… I just couldn’t help but notice the book you were reading. I don’t see many fans of the classics around here, especially ones so young.”

Recovering from the shock of being ripped out of the hypnotising story she was wrapped up in, Layla gestures to the seat next to her. With a bright smile, the secretary smoothes down her pencil skirt, and sits down.

“My mother was a literature buff, and it seems she’s passed that down to me! My name’s Layla. You’re Evelyn, right?”

“Y-Yes, I am! How do you…”

“Well, I had to put a name to the lovely secretary that gives me a smile whenever I see her. Makes my day, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re too sweet, darling,” Evelyn says, lips turning up warmly, eyes dancing with joy. “If I may, what are your thoughts on the book? It’s a personal favourite of mine, and it’s always nice to hear new opinions.”

“Well,” Layla starts, lighting up as she speaks. “Wilde’s language paints such a beautiful, vivid picture, and the characters are so interesting, even if they aren’t morally likeable, most of the time. They make mistakes… Many mistakes… but we sympathize with them.”

At this, Layla cups her hand around her mouth, whispering to Evelyn mischievously, as if what she was about to say was the world’s most important secret.

“It’s a favourite of mine too.”

The two women laugh, Evelyn’s hand falling across Layla’s arm, a comforting, grounding weight. Evelyn, with a warm smile gracing her face, crow’s feet as prominent as ever, sends a pang of longing into Layla’s heart. Not for love, but for her old life. Her friends worried out of their minds over her disappearance; her mother, left alone not once, but twice. Her father had left when she was a child, and it had been her and her mother ever since. Layla learned to put up walls, so that she’d never be hurt like that again. They all leave in the end. It’s better that way. Better not to get attached. Better not to get hurt.

“That’s a lovely interpretation, Layla. You know,” Evelyn says, interrupting Layla’s train of thought. “For someone so young, you have an old soul. Wise beyond your years, for sure.”

“You have no idea…”

“Well, I must get to work, darling,” Evelyn claps her hands together, and stands up, resting a hand on Layla’s arm once more. “I’d love to chat again, though. Such refreshing opinions from such a young woman. I’ll let you get back to your book.”

“I would love to! We’ll make plans soon, I promise. Have a wonderful day, Evelyn!” With that, Layla opens the novel, and is taken once again by the current of the story. Minutes pass, until Layla is interrupted once more, this time by a soft press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Everything alright, Layla?”

“Of course, Jim,” Layla says, reaching out to grasp Jimmy’s hand in return. “How did the meeting go?”

“Well, you were right outside the door, I’m surprised you didn’t eavesdrop,” He takes a seat beside her, and reaches down to tap at the book still nestled in Layla’s hand, her finger keeping the page. “You were too engrossed in this, I bet. What are you reading anyways?”

Layla lifts the book to show the cover, which is a slightly worn navy blue, with golden accents in the form of small droplets. In metallic lettering, read ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’.

“Oscar Wilde, hey? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a lover of the classics.”

“I spent my teenage years with Austen and Dickens, after all.”

“I didn’t think you were that old.”

Layla rolls her eyes, a fond look upon her features. Smiling at the man in front of her, she puts a hand to his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m a real cradle-robber.”

“Just make sure my mum doesn’t hear about this relationship: she’ll have a fit.”

“I’ll be careful, angel,” Layla laughs, putting a pensive finger to her chin. “Hey, Jimmy? Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Jimmy smiles wide at the question and nods, dark curls bobbing at the movement. He absentmindedly takes Layla’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb in soft circles across her wrist.

“My parents… They’ve always been very supportive of me in every way, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find a way to thank them,” Jimmy squeezes her hand briefly, meeting her eyes. “You know, I bet they’d love you.”

“Do you really think so?” Layla’s cheeks grow warm, and her lips tilt upwards in a smile that is uncharacteristically shy.

“Of course I do, petal,” Jimmy says, pushing a fallen lock of hair behind Layla’s ear, his touch featherlight. “How about you? What are your parents like?”

“Well… My dad… He left us when I was young, so it’s been me and my mom ever since,” This is marked with a moment of silence, and Layla’s eyes meet her shoes, pointedly not looking at Jimmy. “My mom’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I truly can’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She’s my best friend.”

The silence continues, until Layla feels a calloused finger at her jaw, lifting her chin. Finally flicking her eyes up to gaze at the guitarist, she’s shocked by the concern and sadness she sees in those emerald green eyes.

“Petal, I…”

“Jim, it’s fine. It—”

“It’s not fine, Layla. It’s not. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve that. Either of you.” Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug, long arms wrapping around her, making her feel safe. They stay like this for what feels like hours, breaking apart slowly.

“Jimmy, I… Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how about you read me some of that book of yours?”

Layla laughs brightly, albeit a little watery, and smiles at Jimmy, eyes shining with gratitude. Shuffling, she positions herself in his lap, legs hanging off the end of the couch as his arm comes to rest across her back, holding her steady against his chest. She opens the book, dog-earing the corner of the page she was reading, before flipping back to the start.

“Petal, as much as I like this, I thought we were gonna take it slow? I don’t think public places are the best idea to… Well…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy,” Layla says, smirk gracing her face as she speaks. “You just make a very comfortable chair.”

Jimmy’s laugh is music to her ears, and she presses a light kiss to his cheek. Focusing on the book in her hand, she begins to read:

“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.”

----------

‘Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? Or had it been simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where there had been a look of joy?’

The next day had arrived, and Layla sits at her kitchen table, enraptured once again by the writings of Oscar Wilde. The words on the page enchant her, and she has no desire to put the novel down anytime soon. She’d have to tell Evelyn all about it, the next time she sees her.

‘Surely a painted canvas could not alter? The thing was absurd. It would serve as a tale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile. And, yet, how vivid was his recollection—’

A shrill ringing pulls her out of the carefully crafted narrative of Dorian Gray. Layla huffs, annoyed at the intrusion, and moves to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Layla! Hi, good to hear from you, hope you’re having a great day so far! Lovely weather we’re having, hey?” The slightly nasal voice of one Robert Plant, crackles through the phone, and Layla sighs at his exuberance.

“Robert, hey. What is it?”

“Uh… Please don’t freak out. It’s really not that bad, and everyone is… mostly… fine?”

“Rob—”

This is followed by a noise in the background, a sort of crackle, as if Robert had shifted the phone to his other hand. Layla can hear the way his breath picks up, the way panic seeps into his voice. “Just a heads up that we’ll be at your place in about… 10 minutes! See you then!”

“What is going on? I was reading, I’m really not in the mood for—”

Another crackle, and a sigh from Robert’s end of the line. Layla runs a hand through her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to quell the panic rising in her throat.

“Promise me you won’t freak out, little dove.”

Layla exhales sharply through her nose, unimpressed at the plea of the man on the other line. Coiling the telephone cord around her finger to calm her nerves, she responds.

“Fine, I’m not gonna freak out. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Well… Um… Jimmy, well, he kinda… got his… finger slammed in a train door?”

“...”

“Layla? Are you still there?”

“How?!”

“I told you not to freak out…”

“Robert!” Layla exclaims, concern painted clearly on her flushed face.

“Okay, okay, he told us he was holding the door open for someone on the way to Swan Song, and well… You know the rest.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Another sigh sounds from the other line, and Layla waits in anticipation for his response, growing anxious with each passing moment. Finally, she hears the man’s response, and deflates with relief, sinking into the chair beside her.

“He should be fine. Like I said before, we’re gonna come get you right away. He’ll be okay, Layla.”

“Okay…Robert?”

“Yes, little dove?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Robert chuckles lightly, bringing a smile to Layla’s face, the undercurrent of anxiety still coursing through her. She thinks it will stay that way, until she sees Jimmy, makes sure he’s okay. “We’ll be there in 10 minutes. Sit tight, Layla.”

Layla sits at the kitchen table, biting her thumbnail, mind elsewhere, until she hears the telltale sound of a car pulling up, engine cutting out. Flying out the door, She spots Jonesy in the driver’s seat, Bonzo next to him, with Robert in the back. Opening the door, she sits next to the blond, and he gazes over at her, putting a hand to her shoulder. Sympathy flashes across his face as he takes in the shocked look Layla’s sporting.

“He’ll be okay, Layla. He will.”

“Robert, I… Jonesy, please, just drive?”

“Right.”

The engine rumbles to life, and they’re off, no doubt speeding to whatever hospital Jimmy’s holed up in. Layla lets her thoughts drift to Jimmy. She wonders how he’s doing, if he’s in any pain, if they’re treating him well. She’s distracted enough that she barely feels Robert’s hand, warm and comforting, on her knee. Layla is snapped out of her thoughts by a particularly sharp turn, and she looks up at Robert, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Rob… What if he’s… not okay? It was his finger. That means that he might not be able to play, if it’s bad enough,” She stammers, eyes frantic in their search of the blond’s face. “His guitar is his life, and—”

“Layla, calm down. It’ll be okay. It won’t do us any good to think like that.” Robert leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder as best he could in the cramped car. To his surprise, she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Layla unconsciously brings a hand up to bite her thumbnail, and catching the action, Robert places his hand on hers, pushing it back down to rest in her lap. They stay that way until the car rolls to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Layla lifts her head from Robert’s shoulder with breakneck speed, scrambling out of the car.

“Layla, wait!” Jonesy calls out, running after the woman, who dashes through the door. Robert and Bonzo catch up, just as Layla reaches the front desk, panting from exertion. The nurse on shift looks at her, eyes wide, shocked at the display.

“Excuse me, love,” Bonzo says, tucking Layla under his arm as he speaks to the nurse. “We’re looking for James Page? He was brought in for a fractured finger, I believe?”

“...Yes, right. What is your relationship with the patient?”

“We’re his bandmates, we can call our manager if you need proof. Please, we just need to see if he’s okay.”

The nurse eyes the group dubiously, and grabs the chart sitting next to her, looking through it. Glancing at the group again, she points behind them, to a room packed with seats, posters and pamphlets lining the walls.

“It seems that Mr. Page is still with the doctor getting X-rayed, so I’m going to need you to take a seat in the waiting area. Give that manager of yours a call, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Thank you, love.” Bonzo says, as he herds the group over to the soft, patterned armchairs, plopping down with a sigh. Jonesy excuses himself to make a phone call to Peter, the others left waiting for news that won’t come fast enough.

Jimmy has to be okay. He has to.

----------

“For James Page?” The nurse’s voice rings out across the waiting area, and the group shoot up from their seats, stiff backs groaning in protest. “Follow me.”

The nurse leads them through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping finally at a room with a large 164 pasted on the closed door. Through the window looking into the room, Layla spots Jimmy asleep under the covers, his hands atop the sheets, resting on his stomach. He looks peaceful, she thinks, like he’s devoid of pain. If she couldn’t see the injured hand at all, she’d have thought he was perfectly fine.

The group finally walk into the room, the sharp smell of antiseptic burning their nostrils. Hearing the click of the door opening, Jimmy opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. His irises are almost black, and he sends them a dopey smile, a giggle bursting out.

“Hey, guys. Fancy seeing you all here.” Jimmy slurs, laughing harder now, as though he had told the most hilarious joke in the world. The boys join in, amused by the antics of their guitarist. Layla hangs back, staring at Jimmy, concern clear on her face. She had spotted the injured finger on the way in, which was already bruised a deep purple, the fingernail completely blackened.

“They give you the good stuff, Pagey?”

“You know it, Jonesy.” Jimmy shoots the bassist a sloppy wink, and the group erupts into soft laughter once more. Taking a dazed glance around the room, the raven-haired man pouts, completely endearing in his drugged state. “Hey… where’s Layla?”

Peter, who had been standing next to the bed, moves aside, and glassy green met warm brown. The guitarist smiles softly, relaxing back into the pillows. He sticks out his uninjured hand, and she walks closer to take it. Never lessening her grip, Layla threads the fingers of her free hand through Jimmy’s messy curls, and looks down at him fondly.

“How’re you doing, champ?”

“Good, now that you’re here. I would kiss you right now… if I wasn’t seeing two of you.”

“They must have him on the really good stuff…” Layla throws over her shoulder, looking back at the injured guitarist. He’s looking up at her with unabashed affection, and she can’t help but blush at the adoration in his gaze.

“Sorry to interrupt,” comes from the open doorway, as Jimmy’s doctor steps through. “I’m Dr. Vane, I treated James when he came in. If you’d kindly step out for a moment, I’d like to go over his prognosis.”

The boys file out of the room, and Layla goes to follow, stopped in her tracks by Jimmy tugging her back towards him with a whimper. She gives in, sinking back down in the chair at his bedside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Jimmy. I was so scared when Robert called. I thought...”

“I’m glad you’re here, petal. Now, come into bed with me. I want to see you better.” Jimmy mutters, scooting over to make room for her to fit in the small hospital bed. Layla laughs, nodding, and crawls in beside him, careful not to hurt him. She turns on her side, her hand landing in his hair again. Jimmy looks up at her, pupils still dilated, and presses a quick peck on her lips, giggling anew.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful? ‘Cause you are.” He insists, slurred speech returning in full force, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums softy in response and a few seconds later, Jimmy’s breathing evens out. He’s dead to the world. Through the door left ajar, Layla can hear snippets of the conversation with the doctor.

“... Fractured the tip of his finger… At least a month.”

“Will he be able to play anytime soon?” That was Peter, voice soft with worry for the frail man in the hospital bed.

“He should rest… Not good to put too much strain on it… Keeping him here until the anaesthetic wears off.”

Tuning them out, Layla looks down at the man sleeping beside her. His hair is matted on one side of his head, and he snores louder than he’d ever admit, but he looks peaceful. He’s not in any pain, and that’s enough for Layla. She drifts off, as the sound of footsteps against the floor draw near. Her tired eyes open to slits, and she sees a shadow with dark, shoulder-length and a beard. It must be Bonzo, she thinks. The last thing Layla hears before succumbing to the exhaustion that plagues her, is the drummer’s soothing voice, hushed to a whisper.

“Let them sleep.”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 (let me know if you want to be added!)

[stressy-enby]

Love, at Last TodoDeku One-Shot

FINALLY I FINISHEDDDDDDDD. Ignore that I spent a week working on this when I could’ve been finishing “No One’s Chasing You” lol. It’s still on going!! If I get off my ass I’ll have it out sometime next week. In the meantime, enjoy some cute blushy oblivious boys.

This was based off of a headcanon I came up with for Todoroki: he loves reading romance novels, but he never quite grasps the idea of a relationship

Warnings: none ;)

Masterlist

Link to Ao3 version

Shoto Todoroki never knew what love was.

He could only vaguely remember his mother’s tender touch. He knew that he had once been loved, and perhaps he had even loved in return, but those feelings had long since been diminished in the sands of time.

Shoto had read about love. He could never understand romance, or the concept of giving all you had to someone, but there was something so innocent, so pure about a love story. The tales were so addicting, Shoto read every romance novel he could get his hands on.

The one thing these sweet stories could never capture quite right, though, was the feeling of falling in love. Shoto understood the theory of romantic relationships well enough, but he still couldn’t imagine what being in love actually felt like.

That is, until he met Izuku Midoriya.

Midoriya was kind to him. He regarded Shoto with a level of respect, reverence even, that he was unused to. Shoto couldn’t recall for the life of him the last time someone had honestly told him that they were impressed by him. No one else had seen his quirk as anytime by a product of his father. No one had seen him as anything else but Endeavor’s son.

“It’s yours! Your quirk, not his!”

Midoriya’s desperate words still haunted Shoto. The very night after their fight, he laid in bed, wide awake, Izuku Midoriya’s face branded into his mind. When sleep finally did take him, there Midoriya was again.

In his dreams, the freckled boy had become Shoto’s greatest source of comfort. In some dreams, Midoriya would be holding a sobbing Shoto in his arms. Sometimes, it was vice versa. Sometimes, they’d simply sit and talk. One night, they even kissed. Shoto had woken up at four in the morning, unable to fall back asleep after that particular dream. He had also found it quite difficult to look the curly-haired boy in the eye the next day, much to said boy’s confusion.

All at once, all of Shoto’s books made sense. Descriptions of fluttering hearts, longing glances, and blissful moments that had once confused his suddenly seemed so perfectly right to the heterochromic boy.

Suddenly, Shoto Todoroki was in love.

He quickly realized why the feelings described in his books never made sense to him. There was no way to make them make sense. There was no way for Shoto to concretely put what he was feeling into words. One moment he felt like flying, the very next moment though, he wanted to stay exactly where he was and never leave again.

Shoto had told Fuyumi about Midoriya. She encouraged him to “make a move”, much to his embarrassment.

“What good are all those love stories if you don’t know how to flirt?” She had exclaimed, incredulously.

“It’s one thing to read about it,” Shoto had muttered, face reddening. “putting it into practice is different.”

He rationalized that if he was going to “make a move”, it would be a natural thing. Shoto wouldn’t be able to consciously flirt even if he tried. The day finally came on a cold December night, when a move was at last made.

Midoriya had come over to Shoto’s dorm room to study for a hero law test Mr. Aizawa had been warning the class about. The cold from outside had seeped into Shoto’s room and Midoriya could feel it.

“Todoroki, is your AC off?” The green-eyed boy asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

“No, I think it’s broken,” Shoto examined his thermostat. “It hasn’t been bothering me, though. Are you cold?”

“A l-little,” Midoriya admitted, both eyebrows raising. “Does your quirk regulate your body temperature? The hot and cold could heat or cool your body depending on the environment!”

“Yeah,” Shoto cracked a minuscule smile.

“Doesn’t really help me, though.” Midoriya laughed apologetically, sitting down on the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest.

Shoto was quiet for a moment, before taking a seat net to him. “It can.”

“W-What do you-” Midoriya flinched in surprise as Shoto snaked an arm around him, pulling him into his warm body.

Midoriya wasn’t wrong; he was cold. Shoto felt goosebumps prick up on his arms before his natural body heat washed them away. He felt Midoriya stiffen. “Is this okay? Are you still cold?”

“N-No, actually-uh, th-this is nice.” Midoriya relaxed into Shoto’s gentle grip. “Really nice.”

“Mmm.” He was right. It was nice. Cradling Izuku Midoriya in his arms was literally one of his dreams come true. He was so small and so soft, but he was all so much more. Shoto had seen his grit, his determination, his selflessness. Izuku Midoriya would sacrifice the world to save a friend, and Shoto loved him for it.

“Weren’t we supposed to be studying?” Midoriya asked suddenly, still not moving.

“Oh, yeah.”

“…We’re still not getting up.”

“Looks like it.”

Midoriya laughed breathily, leaning over to grab his notes. Shoto impulsively wrapped his other arm around him, pulling the red faced boy into his chest.

“T-T-Todoroki! W-What-?” Midoriya yelped.

“You’ll get cold again.” Shoto rationalized “And… you feel too good to let go.”

“O-Oh. Okay then.” Midoriya slowly melted back into the taller boy, this time winding his own arms around his torso. “You feel really good, too.”

Shoto was sure his brain had been fried. All thoughts of studying banished from his mind, he ran his fingers through Midoriya’s soft curls, memorizing every contented sigh and shudder that left the boy.

He wasn’t sure which of them had fallen asleep first. The next thing he knew, he was being jolted awake as a flustered Midoriya rambled on in embarrassment and scooted away from the heterochromic boy as a confused Iida looked on.

Shoto’s arms felt empty without him. His perfectly heat balanced body went cold as Midoriya put distance between them. He wondered if he’d be a horrible friend if he kicked Iida out.

He had to tell Midoriya how he felt before he spontaneously combusted.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Shoto began going back through his old romance novels and taking notes. He skimmed the familiar, well worn pages, thoroughly inspecting each line of typed cliche text. He went through, underlining passages, jotting things in the margins, and copying dialogue into the back of a notebook. He had pages upon pages of confession examples and date ideas. The idea didn’t even strike him as being silly; it was the best way he could think of to plan.

Midoriya wasn’t a terribly private person, but he still got flustered very easily. A big public event wouldn’t do either of them any good. Midoriya could also be a bit dense at times. Innuendos tended to go right over his head. Whatever Shoto did, it had to be direct, but private. He figured a date would be the best route to go, that way they could test the waters.

He steeled his nerves during lunch the following day. Midoriya was deep in conversation with Iida about a new hero documentary. Shoto abstained from the chatter, opting to take in Midoriya’s bright smile as if it were a drug he’s spent far too long being withdrawn from. He noticed the way his eyes lit up, and Shoto decided in that moment that Izuku Midoriya’s beautiful eyes and charming smile were more than enough to light up the whole world.

“Midoriya,” Shoto hung back as Iida and Uraraka turned to head back to class. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, sure!” Midoriya chipped, waving their friends off. “What’s up?”

Shoto swallowed thickly. Bright green eyes pierced his own. “Would you like to go get dinner some time? Just us?”

“J-Just the t-two of us?” The freckled boy’s face started to go pink. “Y-Yeah! That sounds cool!”

“It would be a date.” Shoto clarified bluntly. “Is that ok?”

“Y-Yes!” The green-haired boy exclaimed, a little too loud. “I’d love to go on a date with you!”

Shoto deflated, visibly relieved. “Good, we can work out the details later. We should go before we’re late to class.”

Later, after school, Midoriya pulled Shoto aside to plan their date. He said he had a place in mind he wanted to take Shoto, but only if it was okay that he took the lead. Shoto was more then happy to let him plan the date. He was just happy he still wanted to go. The boys agreed to go to a ramen and bao place near Midoriya’s middle school. Shoto left that conversation with a content smile on his lips, only for it to fall when he realized he didn’t have a clue what to wear. Fuyumi was FaceTimed the following night.

Friday night finally came, and Shoto found himself the victim of a brutal interrogation.

“You’re all dressed up on a Friday night?” Sero tugged at Shoto’s gray blazer. “What are you up to, man?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s going on a date!” Ashido squealed. “He’s clearly waiting on someone, right, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” Shoto saw no reason to lie. He wasn’t embarrassed, just wishing his classmates were less nosey.

“Wha- seriously? Who?” Kaminari demanded, shaking the heterochromic boy violently.

“Please stop that.” Shoto warily removed the blond’s hands from his shoulders, head spinning.

“Ugh, of course the pretty boy is the first to get a girlfriend.” Mineta complained.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Shoto denied.

“You’ve still got a date, though!” Mineta pointed an accusatory finger at the confused teenager.

“Yes, but not with a-”

“Hey! Sorry if I kept you waiting!” Midoriya stumbled out of the elevator, hurriedly smoothing down his pale blue button down.

“I haven’t been here long,” Shoto assured him, breaking out of the small crowd of their friends surrounding him. He noticed Midoriya’s usually unruly curls had been patted down with water. It hardly made a dent, but the attempt was cute. “You look nice.”

“Thank you! This shirt’s kinda old, I was surprised it still fit.” Midoriya hooked a finger around the collar of said shirt. “You look r-really good too!”

“Thanks, my sister helped me. Ready to go?”

“I’ve gotta grab my coat from the hall closet, then I’m ready!”

“Let’s go then.” Shoto, eager to get away from his gaping and giggling peers, followed Midoriya to the coat closet, watching his strong, scarred hands slip his coat on. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go get some dinner, then!” His date grinned, his smile so sweet Shoto felt his knees goin weak.

He was hyper aware of Midoriya’s hand brushing against his own. What would it feel like? People held hands on dates. Should he ask? Should he just grab it? Shoto’s internal debate was distracting enough he didn’t realize how much Midoriya was blushing and staring at their swinging hands himself.

“Hey, uh, would you feel comfortable holding hands?” The freckled boy asked, blush deepening.

Shoto stopped short, terrified that Midoriya could read this thoughts. “Yeah. Do you want to?”

The boy nodded mutely, shakily tapping the back of Shoto’s hand nervously.

He felt the heat creeping up his neck as he hesitantly took Midoriya’s hand. It was warm and soft, and his grip as protective yet gentle. He felt safe.

Midoriya readjusted their grip, squeezing Shoto’s hand and smiling bashfully up at him. “Come on, Todoroki! Let’s go!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Days later, when Shoto was re-reading an old book, he paused for a long time at a point that usually didn’t faze him at all. The first kiss.

It was always described as a magical, perfect moment. Characters would touch lips as though it was as natural as breathing. Was it really that easy? How did kissing even work? You pressed your lips together…. And then what? Were you supposed to do something else?

Completely and utterly confused, Shoto turned to YouTube. Without an ounce of shame, he searched movie kiss scenes, wherein he found the “Top 10 Most Romantic Kisses in Movies!”

Ah, so that’s how that works. He mused.

Confident that he knew the theory well enough, he texted Midoriya, asking if they could hang out. The response came almost immediately.

Absolutely!! You wanna watched that anime I was telling you about? I’ve got it saved on my computer.

Decided that watching a show would be a good guise as any to wanting to kiss, Shoto agreed, and headed down to Midoriya’s All Might-plastered room.

“Hey!” The boy grinned brightly as he let the heterochromic boy in.

“Hi,” Shoto took a seat on the bed, next to an open laptop.

“Okay, I’ve almost got it up,” Midoriya settled next to him, tapping the keyboard. “It has to load-“

“Midoriya. I wanted to ask you something.” Shoto interrupted.

“Oh? What is it?” Midoriya cast him a curious look.

“May I kiss you?”

If being asked out hadn’t broken the poor boy, this defiantly did. His face exploded with color, and his arms flailed in shock.

“K-K-Kiss?! Y-You wanna k-kiss me?”

“Yes.” Shoto quietly confirmed, a bit put off by the sudden panic. “If you don’t want to-”

“No! No, no, no, I’d r-really like to kiss you. I’ve just n-never done that before.” Midoriya palmed the back of his neck.

“I haven’t either. I think I know how it’s supposed to work, though. We can figure it out as we go, though.”

“Y-Yeah,”

The two were silent for a minute. Finally, Midoriya took Shoto's hand shakily. “I want to kiss you.” He whispered.

Shoto gently cupped his cheek, scooting closer. “Okay,” he murmured, carefully touching his lips to Midoriya’s.

It wasn’t nearly as magical or perfect as his books had led him to believe. The kiss you shy and awkward, and neither boy really knew what he was doing. But it was still sweet. It may not have been a perfect kiss, but it was theirs.

Midoriya pulled away first, but didn’t back off. “Can we do that again?” He asked quietly after a second.

And so they did. It was still a little clumsy, but to Shoto and Izuku, that was perfectly fine. To them, everything was right with the world.

At last, Shoto Todoroki had found love.

He had found Izuku Midoriya.

[tracybirds]

Bad Things Happen Bingo #1 Alan and Virgil - Stranger in a Familiar Land

Prompted by @neuroticphysiologist​ - thank you!! :D Loved the combo, it inspired me for sureee!

The boys return to their Kansas high school for the opening of a new building.

Notes: Don’t query me about the timeline, just pretend Gordon is like... 8 years older than Alan in this lol...

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

Alan’s seen Scott’s broad, celebrity smile a thousand times before, but there’s something riveting about this afternoon’s performance in front of the crowd gathered in his old high school. Relaxed shoulders, open expression and a magician’s misdirection away from the troublesome knee injury that had left him grounded. Students and guests of the school alike were lapping it up.

The invitation to the opening of the newest building on the long established campus had been flagged quickly by Tracy Industries and it wasn’t long before John had persuaded Scott to attend with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. Relief swept across the island with the promise of a new project to keep Scott busy and lift his foul mood, and it wasn’t long before they’d all been roped into a visit home to Kansas soil.

Scott always had been good at persuading his brothers to follow his lead.

Scott’s little speech was the pinnacle of the official events and raucous laughter and scattered applause filled the auditorium as he ended with a flourish. He glanced over at them with a triumphant grin, before turning his attention to the flock of admirers that still wanted more from him.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Virgil, with a look of amused exasperation. “He’ll want to catch up with half the town before we head on back.”

Alan watched in bemusement. He’d always preferred the town to their visits to the big cities, no need for caution or carefully planned itineraries, appreciating the simple lives the people led and the ordinary way they interacted with him and his brothers. Seeing Scott mobbed like he was on a red carpet was a novel experience in this place.

“Should we help him out?”

Gordon snorted. “Nah, Allie, he’s fine. Mr Popular was always like this, I remember having to wait hours after school when he’d promised to drive me home.”

“At least he drove you in the end,” said John. “My first day of high school, he just shoved me on the bus so he could spend more time with that girl. Ann? Pamela?”

“Erica,” said Virgil. “You both know I could have driven you, right?”

“No thanks,” said the pair quickly.

Alan laughed at the affronted look on Virgil’s face.

“I can’t believe Virgil was that bad a driver.”

“It wasn’t the driving,” said Gordon, pulling a face. “Parker straightened that out pretty quickly.”

“It was Lizzy,” said John.

“Lizzy was a great car,” protested Virgil. “I fixed her up just fine.”

“You fixed her up every day for a year before Dad finally made you sell her for parts,” declared Gordon. “She broke down more than a Fischler project.”

Virgil huffed a little, but Alan could see the grin he was trying to bite back.

“Wasn’t all bad though.” Gordon kick at one of the lockers that lined the long corridor away from the auditorium. A loud clang echoed through the school and Alan instinctively ducked away from the death glare Scott shot at them through the open doorway.

“Speak for yourself,” said John. “You weren’t missing much, Alan.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Johnny,” said Gordon. He shoved him to one side and posed dramatically. “Here’s where I had my first kiss.” He raced to a forlorn looking table, and patted it gently. “Here’s where I wrote all my homework during study hall, look you can still see my initials.” He tapped the carved letters with a look of pride.

“There’s where you got detention,” muttered John. “Oh, and over there too, and that’s were you got suspended for vandalism, real nice, Gordon.”

“I left my mark, that’s all that counts,” said Gordon airily.

He came to a halt in front of the library, staring at the double doors with a delighted grin.

“You can’t tell me you hated everything, when this place existed.”

“I only liked it because it was the one place that had the good sense to ban you.”

Gordon only smiled wider as he flung the doors open and dragged John inside, Alan and Virgil trailing behind.

“Look any different, John?”

“Be quiet,” hissed John. He was backed by an infuriated shush that seemed to surround them.

Gordon started, fear creeping into his eyes, and then relaxed as he caught sight of an elderly lady who looked like she could go toe to toe with Colonel Casey and not break a sweat.

“Sorry, Mrs B,” he said, cheerily.

The old woman pointed at the wall with a huff, and Alan grinned at the photo pinned to the wall; A fourteen year old Gordon, freckled and bright-eyed and a cheeky smile mirrored by the man himself.

“You kept my photo? After all these years? I’m touched, Mrs B, want me to sign it for you?”

“Out.”

Gordon lifted his hands in defeat, still laughing.

“She really means it when she says lifelong ban, Allie, watch yourself,” he said in an undertone.

He raised his voice to address the formidable Mrs B.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he called, shoving John back through the doors he had barrelled through. “I remember the rules, don’t worry.”

“Hmph,” she said, eyeing Alan closely as he made to follow his brothers. Their voices echoed as they walked away, secure in the familiarity of these halls.

He stilled, hand on the doorknob at the display in the corner that caught his eye. Two sparkling glass trophy cases, and class photos that spanned generations. He wandered over, peering at the names and faces of the hundreds of students that had walked the same corridors as his brothers.

Once, he might have been one of them. If things had gone differently, he’d be here right now. It might have been someone else making today’s speech.

The Tracy name spun together with the history of this place.

John’s, engraved on a number of academic awards, four years in a row.

Gordon’s, taking a place of pride in a variety of sporting shields and a clear favourite for sportsmanship awards as well.

He flipped through the digital archive, selecting the old yearbooks, and there was Virgil, grinning out of the holoscreen at him. He held a trophy of his own, with a young John staring adoringly up at him. Alan blinked, reading the caption that described the school’s first victory in a robotics tournament thanks to the duo.

There was Scott, class president and valedictorian of his year, presenting a speech at graduation. Scott’s name seemed to be almost everywhere he looked, every award, every prize, every photograph of the era. His magnetic brother had thrived here.

The more he looked, the more he found.

He looked up at the photographs, searching for the familiar faces in the crowds. Searching for traces of a past he couldn’t remember and had never been a part of.

A hand fell heavy on his shoulder and he jumped.

“I can’t believe they still have all these old photos,” said Virgil, looking intently into each frame.

Alan didn’t reply, switching his focus instead to his brother. He could read recognition in his brother’s eyes.

“Look,” said Virgil suddenly, “there’s Dad.”

“What?” Alan surged forward, looking back at the photos Virgil pointed to, long before his birth. “Dad went here?”

He could see for himself that it was true – his teenage father looked just like his memories of Scott and Virgil at that age – and he couldn’t help stifling a laugh at the dated haircut.

“Mom too,” said Virgil, pointing at the young girl sitting next to him.

Alan froze, his breath catching in his throat. She smiled up at him with Scott’s dimples and a light in her deep, brown eyes that he recognised in Gordon. He had her hair, he’d always known that, but he’d never seen her with freckles just like his.

“I didn’t know she wore glasses.”

The words came out in a hoarse whisper, squeaking past the lump that had settled in his chest.

Virgil looked surprised.

“You haven’t seen them in our baby photos? She switched to contacts after Gordon was born, he kept grabbing at them.”

Alan just shook his head, not sure if he could speak. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his brothers’ baby photos. It wasn’t the sort of thing they shared, sitting down and searching through the past. There was too much pain there, and when he was feeling disconnected from his mom, it was always his own photos they reached for.

Always, there was the reassurance that their mom had loved him.

Never an indication of the life his brothers had lived before him. A hometown, the same high school, people who called out to them on the street just to say how much they’d grown. People who wanted to tell them they’d done this place he barely knew proud.

“You okay, Allie?”

A tight smile betrayed his thoughts.

“She was really pretty,” he said softly, drawing a finger across the glass.

Virgil nodded slowly. For a moment, Alan thought he might say something and he desperately willed him not to, unsure he’d be able to speak. The moment soon passed and he stepped forward again, to point out more people intertwined with their life before Alan.

He nodded and hummed along, trying to feign interest as best he could, but he could feel the disappointment radiating from Virgil. He wanted to share this with him, but there were consequences to their father whisking them to a new home before Alan could take root here.

An island home suited him, adrift in a lonely sea and isolated from the stability that connected his family to their own homeland.

“Come on,” said Virgil, a soft look in his eye. “Scott’s done, and we want to show you something before we go.”

Curious, Alan followed his brother outside to see his family gathered together, joking and laughing in the courtyard.

“Hey, Alan!” called Gordon, wide grin on his face. “Remember this?”

Behind them, he could see a mural painted over the concrete. The colours were faded and the paint was chipped, the significance of the artwork paid little attention to by students across the years, hurrying and late to class.

As he approached, he could recognise the section they were gathered in front as one of Virgil’s works – a landscape image of the school building just replaced and reopened, living on only in his painting. A sketch of the new building lay next to it, waiting for a new artist to bring the newest period in the school’s history to life.

He looked back through the past images in fascination, from the simple, single roomed wooden building to the magnificent architecture of glass and masonry that stood in front of him today. All the images were true to life, he assumed, painted over as time went by and yet another testament to the proud history to which he couldn’t belong.

Virgil’s own mural stood out from the rest, and not just because he recognised his brother’s bold strokes. It was marred by impulsive streaks of colour, pure blues and bright reds, and in these areas, a technical drawing of the school had been painted in contrast with the realism of the rest of the image.

Two handprints – one large and one small – lay bright in the corner.

“By Virgil and Alan Tracy,” he murmured, reading the small print beside them. “I did this?”

“Let’s just say you wanted to ‘help’,” said Scott with a wicked grin at Virgil.

“I was babysitting you,” said Virgil, crouching down next to the painting. “Biggest project I’d ever been given at the time.”

“And boy, did we hear about it when you painted over it,” said Scott.

“We could hear him yelling from the other side of town,” added Gordon, laughing. “He wouldn’t speak to you for a week. Have you ever seen a teenager trying to ignore a six year old? Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“”In my defence, I thought the school would pull me from the project. I’d spent months planning it in my spare time, I was terrified I’d lose it.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Alan, his ears hot.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Al,” said John, squeezing his shoulder. “Dad straightened him out in the end, you really can’t ignore an upset six year old for long.”

“Besides, it turned out better than before.” Virgil tapped the image lightly. “You covered up all my lighting mistakes on the front staircase.”

Alan laughed, a warm glow in his chest. He hadn’t expected to find a trace of himself at this school everyone else seemed to belong to. He hadn’t expected to care, but his brothers did and maybe that was how his history could be made. He’d never gone to this school, but he’d left his mark all the same. He didn’t recognise the people, couldn’t walk the halls blindfolded, but he shared a past with the place all the same, shared between him and his brothers.

Maybe, he thought, spirits soaring high as he laughed easily with them. Maybe he didn’t have to live in a town for it to feel like home.

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

[thisbrokenmask]

Trick or Treat

pairing: female reader x kim seokjin

genre: romance, humour

word count: 3,233

rating: PG-13 i guess?

warnings: the beginnings of heavy petting, seokjin is dressed like clark kent

summary: you’re not a fan of Halloween, normally leaving your building’s trick or treaters in the capable hands of your trusty plastic skeleton, Frank, while you enjoy a hot bath, a film and a bottle of wine. this year, however, Jin unexpectedly shows up at your door and you find he’s not an unwelcome addition to your plans for the evening. 

a/n: I don’t really know where this came from, but Happy Halloween! 

written for my ‘Trick or Treat’ prompt for @btsholidaybingo​

Stepping into the elevator of your apartment building, you’re careful to avoid the fake webbing spread over the paneling as you press the button for the third floor. With your left hand, you absentmindedly tap out the rhythm of a song that’s been stuck in your head all day around the handles of a small grocery bag, a few treats picked up on the way home to reward yourself for once again resisting losing your temper at your annoying colleague this week. As you wait for the elevator to rise, you take your phone out of your pocket to browse through some social media, seeing if any of your friends have posted pictures of their costumes yet. While you’re disappointed not to see Jungkook’s face covered in fake blood or Namjoon and his girlfriend posing in matching horror novel-themed costumes just yet, you do find yourself being drawn to a few celebrity’s images who have already posted their outfits.

With a sigh you’re locking your phone again and swapping it for your keys, desperate for the moment you can shut your door behind you and lock it for the evening. Despite yourself, though, you can’t help the small smile that pushes at your lips as you take in the drawings that have been put up by some of the kids in the building; grimacing pumpkins and wailing ghosts wishing the other residents a ‘Happy Halloween’.

You’re quietly relieved that the hallway on your floor is currently empty. You figure the building’s kids have started on the bottom floor and are making their way up, especially when you can hear the distant delighted screams and giggles echoing up the stairwell, so you’ve made it in time to avoid the begging eyes of children promised free sweets for their dressing up efforts. 

The sight of your door, the only one completely bare of any fake spiders or red-paint handprints, brings a wave of relief over you, tension slipping from your shoulders already at just the thought of running a hot bath to soak away the stress of the work week. Friday has come at just the right time once again; even if tonight is Halloween, you’re still intent on carrying out your plans of bath, wine, movie and sleep.  

It’s not that you hate Halloween. It’s just… you are strongly indifferent to Halloween. It was never a holiday that you took part in growing up, even with your older sister dressing up and going to parties every year throughout her teenage years and your parents always happily opening up the door for the neighbourhood kids out trick or treating. Other than not liking scary films, there isn’t really anything you hold against the annual appearance of carved pumpkins and the ridiculous unbranded costumes. You’re just not bothered. 

You place your shopping on the kitchen counter once you make your way into your home, flicking a few lights on as you go. The bottle of wine goes in the fridge, along with a bar of your favourite chocolate that you only indulge in every once in a while. You sit the unopened bag of crisps in a bowl, ready to open them when you settle in for your movie later, and then move on to the final step in your evening plans before locking up. 

The one Halloween-themed decoration you have is a standing skeleton, no taller than waist height, his hands outstretched in front of him. The same year you bought your bony guardian, who you have affectionately named Frank for no reason in particular, you also picked up a bright orange plastic bowl decorated on one side with a jack-o-lantern’s jagged grin, and it’s this bowl that you fill with a few bags of wrapped sweets and place in Frank’s upturned hands after slipping a small sign over his arms to hang below the bowl. 

Frank and his sugary cargo is carried lovingly out into the corridor and placed beside your door, and you make sure the sign is sitting far enough forward that it’s still visible: 

“Please don’t knock or ask for tricks or treats - instead you can help yourself to Frank’s bowl of sweets!”

Satisfied with your little set up, you finally allow yourself to lock your door and head towards your bathroom. You’ve used this set up for the last few years that you’ve lived in your building and, other than a little bit of confusion in the first year, it’s worked like a charm. The few parents who spoke to you in the days following Halloween were appreciative of the fact that you still put something out for their overexcited kids and quietly confessed that they didn’t blame you for not wanting to keep opening your door throughout the evening. After the second year, Frank became somewhat of a building celebrity, and now you’re quite happy knowing that the kids look forward to seeing him every year. They know you more as The Christmas Lady, given your clear preference and enthusiasm for the winter holidays, and a few suspect the Easter Bunny lives with you and Frank, too. 

Pouring in a generous amount of your favourite vanilla chai bubble bath, you take a deep breath of the rising scents of vanilla, cloves and cinnamon and start unbuttoning your blouse as you walk to your bedroom, leaving the water to run. You grab your fluffiest dressing gown and your favourite pyjamas, setting them out on the top of your bathroom hamper ready for when you finish your bath, before undressing completely. Your discarded clothes go in the hamper before you perch on the edge of the tub, running your hands through the water to check the temperature and fluff up the bubbles. 

You ignore the first knock on your front door, assuming that, like always, there’s one person who hasn’t read Frank’s sign. As a rule, you never open your door and Halloween night, sure that anyone who is confused will either figure it out or give up and move on. 

Turning off the water, you get ready to step into the steaming, bubbly water and melt your troubles of the week away when a second, more insistent knocking comes from your front door. With a sigh, you grab your dressing gown and slip it on as you make your way to the front door, tying off the belt as you look out through your peephole to see is bothering you. 

To your surprise, you’re met with a grown man and no children. He’s dressed in a simple suit, a white shirt under a black blazer, but with the top few buttons undone you can see a blue t-shirt poking out. His square-rimmed glasses frame his wide eyes, his dark hair pushed back with one small section styled to fall back down over his forehead. You roll your eyes as you unlock your door, stepping back as you open it with a smirk and lean against the frame.

“Hey, Jin,” the man in question straightens up at the sound of his name, pushing his chest out slightly and placing a hand on his hip. The other is holding a paper bag, at the top of which you’re pretty sure you spot another bottle of wine. 

“Ma’am,” he says with a curt nod in your direction, a playful glint in his eyes and a matching smirk on his plump lips. 

You’ve been seeing Jin for the last couple of months, not quite officially a couple yet but definitely enjoying each other’s company on a regular basis. This wasn’t the first time he’d turned up unannounced, especially since he’d found out you’d been having a stressful time at work over the last few weeks, but you definitely weren’t expecting to see him tonight, not when Namjoon was hosting a party. 

Namjoon was your mutual friend and the person who had introduced you to Jin, the two men becoming quick friends when Jin had transferred into Namjoon’s department earlier in the year. He hadn’t introduced the two of you with the intention of setting you up to date, but had simply invited Jin along to a few nights out over the summer, his new colleague quickly being adopted by the rest of your friendship group. 

So for Jin to show up at your apartment, a decidedly Halloween-free zone, rather than a party, was indeed a bit of a surprise. 

“Can I help you?” you ask innocently, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Guess who I am first,” he challenges, pushing his shoulders back to puff out his chest just a little bit more. You make a show of looking him up and down, exaggerating a frown.

“Hmm, Patrick Bateman?” 

“He doesn’t even wear glasses!” Jin’s shoulders deflate as he whines, disappointment evident on his face that you can’t help but giggle at. 

“Yes, he does,” you point out, thinking back to Christian Bale’s portrayal of the serial killer. “And it would make more sense to be dressed as him for Halloween: Superman isn’t even scary.”

“You don’t like scary,” Jin points out and your heart flutters slightly that he knows that already, a gentle blush rising in your cheeks. 

“Yes, well, true as that may be, you haven’t answered my question,” you shuffle slightly on the spot to try and hide how flustered he makes you so easily, but the smile tugging at his lips lets you know that he’s already aware. 

“Well, I-”

“Hey!” a small shout down the hall startles you both, the two of you turning to see one of the little girls you recognise from the floor above you, a usually-charming little lady called Maisie. Clearly having run ahead of her parents and younger brother, she’s stood at the top of the stairs, watching you both intently. She’s dressed in what you would consider to be a classic witch costume, with stripy black and purple tights under the puffball skirt of a black dress, a pointed black hat sat on her blonde curls. She has green face paint on and a cape flowing out behind her, a plastic broom in one hand, a small plastic pumpkin already half-filled with goodies in the other. She points her broom handle at Jin, and the grown man in front of you even jumps slightly at the young fury in her eyes. “You’re not supposed to knock on Christmas Lady’s door!” she cries, and if you weren’t so shocked you might laugh at the image of a child defending your honour from someone as gentle as Jin. “You’re meant to go to Frank, he’s in charge of Halloween!” 

Jin’s floundering on the end of the five year-old’s glare and you’re touched that Maisie has not only remembered your traditional delegation of Halloween responsibilities to your plastic skeleton, but she believes Jin is bothering you by breaking those rules. 

“It’s okay, Maisie,” you assure her and she lowers her broom, although her eyes stay pinned on Jin. “He’s a friend, I was just letting him in.” 

“You were?” hope is evident in Jin’s voice when he turns to you, a bright smile lighting up his eyes. 

“Yes,” you say as you quickly usher him in before Maisie can ask any more questions, and he slips through the door beside you to enter your apartment. “Thank you for remembering the rules, though, Maisie,” the little girl’s face immediately melts from a frown into a sheepish smile. “Although maybe don’t shout next time, okay?” she nods quickly, her pointed hat wobbling on her head as she promises you that she won’t. “I’m sure Frank wouldn’t mind you taking a few extra sweeties for remembering Halloween is his favourite time of year, though.” You wink and she giggles, skipping over to carefully pick out her favourites from the bright orange bowl. 

Just as you wish her a happy Halloween, you see her parents come up the stairwell and offer them a polite wave, which they return as Maisie skips over to them to tell them Frank gave her extra treats this year. 

You head back into your apartment, locking the door once again with a sigh and turning to your new houseguest, who stands on the edge of your kitchen, watching you with a smile. 

“Sorry for causing trouble,” he smirks and you grin, shaking your head. 

“Don’t worry about it. Maisie’s a sweetheart, really.” You eye him carefully, finally able to appreciate the exquisite cut of his suit that makes him look like he walked straight off of a photoshoot. “So, really, what did you want?”

“Oh!” Jin offers you the paper bag he’s still holding with a flourish and a tinge of pink in his cheeks. “Namjoon said you don’t like parties, so I thought I’d bring you a little care package.” Your fingers brush as you take the bag and you resist the urge to take a hold of his hand instead, a tingle of anticipation shooting up your arm and flourishing in your chest. “I also thought you might like some company, so,” Jin adjusts his glasses to hide his nervousness, worried you might turn him away even though he’s now stood in your apartment and you look down to inspect the contents of the bag to hide the growing flush on your face. There is indeed a bottle of wine, a more expensive label of your favourite rosé, as well as what seems to be some fancy take-out boxes containing slices of cheesecake. 

You’re used to being alone on Halloween, most of your closest friends opting to go out for alcohol-soaked parties or spend time with their partners instead, so you’re not quite sure how to react to the idea that someone has willingly given up one of the biggest party nights of the year to be with you. 

“It’s just Halloween parties I don’t like,” you smile sheepishly, moving further into the kitchen to put the wine and food in the fridge to chill. “Or Halloween at all, really.”

“Really?” You nod shyly, already internally wincing at the slew of objections you normally get when you state your indifference towards the spooky holiday. “What were you planning on doing instead, then?” The ease with which Jin simply accepts it and moves on surprises you, and you find your heart beating a little bit faster as he looks at you with genuine curiosity. 

You suddenly remember your outfit, pulling the lapels of your dressing gown together a little tighter across your chest. You and Jin have shared several heated moments over the time you’ve known each other, and while his hands may have slipped under your top and climbed higher up your back a few times, he’s never seen you in any state of undress. 

“I was actually going to have a bath,” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear, a nervous laugh escaping you. “I was literally about to get in before you knocked.” 

“Oh right, erm,” Jin has the good graces to look embarrassed, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he struggles to figure out where to look. The two of you stand on opposite sides of your small kitchen, neither of you quite sure what to do. You wonder if he felt the same shift in the air as you did at the idea of you being naked on the other side of the door when he arrived. “So are you, erm…” Jin vaguely gestures towards you, cheeks burning red as he stumbles over his words. “Are you still going to-? I mean, do you want to-? Do you want me to-?” 

Seeing Jin, a man usually so effortlessly confident, struggling to keep his cool around you gives you a strange surge of confidence that you can’t explain but don’t dismiss, leading you to cut him off with a single, straightforward question. 

“Would you like to join me?”

You giggle at the way Jin falls silent, mouth still open mid-sentence. You take the belt of your robe between your fingers, gently teasing at the idea of undoing it for him, watching his eyes drop down to follow the action. You see his jaw tense and he swallows, and when his eyes lift back up to yours they are significantly darker than they were before, his tongue slipping out across his bottom lip before he bites it. And just like that, the stuttering man is gone. 

“Would you like me to?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t?” you cock your eyebrow as he crosses the room towards you, eyes unabashedly raking up and down your form. You’ve never considered your fluffy dressing gown to be one of your sexier outfits, but Jin is quickly making you reconsider those thoughts as he tentatively places a hand on your hip, fingers gently stroking the fabric. You can’t pull your eyes away from his, the dark heat in his eyes boring into yours and stoking the fire burning in your abdomen.

“Better take this off then, hadn’t we?” you feel his hands cover yours, long fingers gently prying yours away from the strip of fabric keeping him from your body. The adrenaline pulsing in your veins gives you a better idea, however, and you dip out of his grasp to make your way back towards your bathroom. With a coy smile on your lips, you gently undo the knot yourself and slowly let the fabric fall from your shoulders, exposing your naked form to his eyes. He’s frozen in the middle of your kitchen, so you give him a beckoning curl of your finger before slowly stepping out of his field of vision. 

Biting your lip, you pray you haven’t jumped the gun and taken this relationship a step too far too soon, but the gentle footsteps that begin to follow you assure you that he’s definitely interested. You enjoy the feeling of the air against your skin with the sway of your hips, pausing at the entrance to the bathroom to look back over your shoulder. 

The sight of Jin unbuttoning his shirt as he follows you sends another bolt of heat through you, although the sight of his Superman shirt underneath does make you burst out laughing. He blushes, laughing nervously as he shrugs off the shirt, but your laughter soon dies in your throat as he quickly lifts the t-shirt off over his head in one quick motion. Seeing his bare chest for the first time shuts you up pretty quickly, the expanse of skin combined with his black trousers, black glasses and black, styled hair leaving you almost drooling over him. 

WIth a bite of your lip you wait for him to come to you, your hands immediately reaching out to touch him with an eagerness you don’t even care to hide. It’s returned, though, as Jin’s hands immediately find your waist and pull you close. His face is mere millimetres from yours, breaths ghosting over each other’s cheeks before he ducks his head to bury his face in your neck. The gentle press of his lips against your skin makes you gasp, the heat of his mouth melting any remaining hesitation you still held. 

Your fingertips brush over the muscles of his abdomen, his breath catching as you tease the sensitive skin of his hips before gripping onto his belt and pulling him into the bathroom, the heat between the two of you adding to the already steamy room.

[ailelie]

a nohorcrux!au in which Dudley decides to be decent sooner; aka, how Dudley got a boyfriend

Hermione became friends with Dudley by dint of being the only one of Harry’s friends who could use a telephone and Dudley being allowed on the phone when Harry was not.

Harry traded Mrs. Weasley’s sweets for a recap of Dudley’s conversations with Hermione. 

The arrangement had started thanks to a confluence of circumstances that had led Harry to requesting Hermione’s phone number in the first place and buying extra cauldron cakes on the train.

When Hermione visited Number Four, she did so as Dudley’s friend. Harry and Dudley did not mention she had magic. Hermione brought toothbrushes for the whole family--a move Harry thought was a bit much, but somehow solidified her worth in his aunt and uncle’s eyes.

After that, Hermione became “just a friend, Mum, seriously” and welcome at the house whenever she liked.

Harry and Hermione spent hours at the local park--with Dudley, of course, who was their excuse and who loomed awkwardly keeping his old friends away. 

Hermione didn’t mean to draw Dudley into the conversation, but she talked to him for a half hour every other night of the week. Not everything was about Harry. He was a bully, Dudley that is, but he’d confessed once to wanting to be better and, well, Hermione liked a project. 

And he did want to be better, but only because Hermione was a proper girl and decent and Dudley wanted to be worthy of her friendship.

Ron remained in the loop via letters to Hermione, which she passed on to Harry through her conversations with Dudley.

The whole matter was a tangle, but the practical effect was that, when school resumed, she discovered she rather missed the frequent chats. Dudley had a very direct way of thinking that cut through her own snarls sometimes.

For his part, Dudley had never resented Harry Hogwarts until befriending Hermione.

During the school year, Dudley wrote letters and Hermione returned novels. He took to carrying his letters around and adding on throughout the week until he had a respectable enough length to send. The practical effect of this was that each letter became a diary. He didn’t realize how much he opened himself to her.

He told her about his black eye earned defending a first year from upperclassmen.

She congratulated him and sent a packet of sugar quills.

Which is how Dudley learned one of his classmates also had family at Hogwarts. Apparently sucking on a Wizarding sweet where anyone could see was not the smartest of things to do. The classmate had always been a strange one, but he informed Dudley that was because he was a Squib--someone without magic born into a magical family.

Dudley got plenty of opportunities to put his new altruism to the test defending the squib--Christopher Clearwater--from their classmates. Piers thought him mad, but followed along with the new regime with merely a roll of his eyes. The rest thought they could now challenge ‘Big D’ since he’d clearly gone soft.

Dudley disabused them of that notion, but did not resume his friendships, contenting himself with weird Christopher and ever-loyal Piers. Christopher was okay, but he was relieved to have kept Piers.

When the school year ended, the Clearwaters invited Dudley to visit and thus he received his first foray into the magical world. 

He didn’t tell Harry. Matters between the cousins remained purely business. Dudley was Harry’s personal telephone and Harry was Dudley provider of sweets. The arrangement worked. They had too much history to mess with the arrangement.

The point is, Dudley and Christopher went to Diagon Alley and Hermione was there with her parents. 

If Hermione’s parents were surprised by the appearance of the young man Hermione had been calling for a half hour every other night for the past couple years, they did not show it. Hermione knew their calm demeanor was a mask, though. She had endured too much teasing for her regular phone calls for it to be anything but. It did not matter how many times she explained she was really calling Harry. 

The Grangers invited Dudley and Christopher for ice cream. Hermione ran damage control. Her parents’ comments flew over Dudley’s head, she was sure, but his friend looked cannier. Then again, judging by Dudley’s flushed face and the amount of attention he was paying his bowl, maybe the comments were hitting exactly as intended.

“Sorry about them,” she said later all in a rush. “It isn’t that I don’t like you. As a friend. But. I don’t--”

“Like me,” Dudley finished, forcing a smile. “I get it.”

And he did. And, to be honest, he didn’t want her to like him. Not really. He just wanted to be worth her liking him.

When school resumed, he appointed himself the defender of the first years, instructing them all to find him if any upperclassmen did anything to them. 

Piers responded with the sarcastic gift of a cheap costume cape. 

“Did you get one for yourself too?” Dudley asked.

Piers smirked. “Naturally. You don’t mind being my sidekick, do you?”

“Sidekick?” Dudley’s brows raised. “I’ll show you ‘sidekick.’��

They scuffled and Piers laughed against Dudley’s neck before yielding.

Dudley included the moment in his weekly letter to Hermione. He did not realize how much detail he had placed into describing the exact sparkle in Piers’ eyes until five or six letters later when Hermione returned that section, with others, to him all neatly cut his letters.

In this reply, though, she only asked him to tell her more about his friend.

Five or six letters later, she asked if he liked him.

Dudley had not planned on having a sexuality crisis as a teenager. He did not thank Hermione for foisting one onto him.

Piers and Christopher both noticed something was wrong, because of course they did. When Piers finally confronted him, demanding, “What’s wrong?”

Dudley said the first thing to come to mind. “You’re fit.”

“What’s that got to--oh.” Piers shifted from foot to foot. “Do you want me to stay, or should I--?”

“Just go.” And Piers left.

Dudley still liked girls. Still thought Hermione was beautiful. He just really, really liked his best friend.

Everything went mostly back to normal, but Piers did not tease him quite as much and Dudley missed that.

He deliberately missed the whole first week of phone calls in retaliation. When he finally accepted one, he and Hermione spent the whole conversation arguing. The gist of his position being, “I didn’t need to know I fancied him!”

Harry later asked for a recap and Dudley had nothing to tell him. For once, his conversation with Hermione hadn’t been about Harry at all.

Hermione, for her part, organized every piece of information she could find on bisexuality and coming out until her parents bought a little rainbow decal for their car and told her they loved her no matter what. She felt a bit guilty for forcing a revelation Dudley hadn’t been ready to have yet, but if her Hogwarts experience had taught her anything it was that boys were impossible when it came to feelings.

Long story short, Piers visited later that summer and locked himself and Dudley in Dudley’s bedroom and said, “I think we should try it. Kissing.”

“And then?” Dudley asked, faint at the idea of kissing Piers.

“And then we decide what’s next.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dudley asked, approaching Piers.

Piers gave him a familiar smirk. “Hey, who’s the brains of this operation?” But his voice shook. His hand, when it fell on Dudley’s shoulder, did not.

They kissed. It wasn’t fireworks, but it wasn’t a disaster either. And when Piers pulled back and said, “All right. I could stand doing that again” before pulling Dudley back to his lips, well, it was perfect.

The point of this all being--Dudley got a boyfriend because Hermione was the only one of Harry’s friends who could use a telephone and Dudley was allowed to accept calls while Harry was not.

[itsclydebitches]

Hello, everyone! I come bearing a new recap series to fill the void until Volume 8. This came about because a bunch of friends went, “Hey, this book is really bad” and I responded with, “Really? I should check it out!” Now here we are. 

Thrilling tale, I know. 

The rules for this project are simple: 

Each recap will cover a single chapter

Each chapter will be read as time and energy permit 

Each chapter will contain typos because such is life

Recaps are a general response to anything and everything I notice about the text. This includes positives, negatives, and the wishy-washy stuff in between. Despite the summarized conversation above, I’m not going into this with the intention of ripping BtD to shreds, nor am I looking to absolve it simply because it’s ~RWBY~. I’m attempting to be as objective as one human individual can be

However, given that there will be criticisms (a lot of them so far)... any rude messages taking issue with that will unceremoniously be deleted :) 

Onward! 

We open with Sun’s point of view as he wanders the streets of Vacuo in the very late night/early morning. We learn that he’s been back for a month, but it’s “only now that he felt like he was truly home.” Why that is isn’t made clear. There are two actions connected to this thought: getting into a dangerous battle and helping out a stranger. It’s up to the reader to decide which (or both) is what makes Vacuo feel like home to Sun, but either is going to say a lot about his characterization. Is he a Yang, only feeling like things are normal when there’s something exciting going on? Or a Ruby, attaching feelings of self-worth and belonging to his ability to help others? As said, it’s arguably both. 

To clarify this situation: Sun is following a group of three who in turn are following a woman. He says that they were “three goons who were up to no good. At least he’d assumed they were up to no good when he spotted them stalking a woman out of some new nightclub downtown.” Which begs the question, which is it? Do you actually know the three are “stalking” her or is this another “assumption”? Are they up to no good or not? Retroactively, their fight with Sun and the narrative connections to the rest of the plot seem to prove that they are indeed baddies... but Sun didn’t know this at the time. By his own admission he’s drawing very firm conclusions (they’re “goons”) based on circumstantial evidence. I’m torn between praising him for taking action - that woman is presumably safe now thanks to him - and acknowledging that this is a problem with our whole cast. All our heroes jump to conclusions like this and have very confident ideas about who is “good” and who is “bad” based on little to no evidence. Really, I take far less issue with this particular situation and its context (Huntsmen in training sees a woman potentially in danger and takes non-disruptive action to try and prevent a tragedy. That’s good) than I do this trend of characters “assuming” things about others across the series. 

But enough on that. Sun’s plan to keep an eye on the situation fails as they “somehow noticed him” despite taking extra precautions to keep out of sight. From this he deduces that at least one member, Brown, is a faunus because the faunus are much more attuned to their environment. Both due to biology and growing up trying to keep safe from humans. I find the bigotry part of that explanation to be odd. I’ll admit that I might be reading way too much into this. So far there’s a lot in this novel that’s not obviously bad but did make me pause and go, “Ehhh...” Just because this moment draws a line between the racism allegory and (literal) animal traits. Take a second to swap out the fantasy term of “faunus”: Character, as a black man, is more attuned to his environment because he’s learned to protect himself from white people.” There is something to be said for minority groups being more cautious in specific situations, or being wary of how they present themselves to new people, etc. But in this case faunus are supposed to just be more attuned to things 24/7 because of fantasy-racism, which sounds a lot like an evolutionary, animalistic trait that they... already have? Saying that the character with animal eyes and ears can more easily pick up on someone tracking him is one thing. Saying that the discriminated against character can more easily pick up on someone tracking him because he’s just hyper-aware at all times very much like an animal...that’s “Ehhh.” It’s one of those things I doubt I’d be paying any attention to if RWBY had given us better representation overall. It’s reached a point where the way the faunus are handled is so messy that any statement like this invites at least a dollop of suspicion. But I’ll leave that to others to cry “Yea” or “Nay.” 

So Sun is forced to confront these three. They wear masks and “matching silver armbands around their right biceps.” Sun thinks that they’re “just average gas masks” and thus way less scary than the grimm masks the White Fang prefers. All I could think was: 

Gas masks are plenty scary, Sun, you’re just watching the wrong TV shows.

These four start the obligatory pre-fight chit-chat which includes Pink calling Sun “kid.” Every time this happens I feel a tiny bit of my soul wither and die. The protagonists’ ages and the implications attached to them have been a thorn in my side since Volume 5. I mean, heaven forbid we acknowledge that these are teenagers often making immature decisions when the text itself keeps reminding us of how young they are. 

But I digress. 

As the fight begins Sun concentrates to activate his semblance and we’re given a rather strange flashback. Sun, along with his older cousin Starr Sanzang, are moving with their clan after their “previous settlement had become too attractive to Grimm.” Which is its own, massive can of worms labeled with the question “What suddenly makes a home ‘too attractive’?” But we have nothing else to work with there so I’m leaving it alone. The primary takeaway is Sun’s reaction to the move itself. He wants to know why they don’t fight and despite being told that a) not everyone in the clan is as strong as him and b) he has a tendency to be hotheaded (even though that’s presented as familial teasing), he’s not happy with those answers. It’s amazing how much of this characterization makes it feel like Meyers barely read the RWBY wiki, yet he’s simultaneously managing to hit on a lot of the series’ major themes - including the idea that heroes must never, ever retreat. We could easily take Sun’s thoughts and chuck them into any of Team RWBY’s heads during Volume 7 and you’d be good to go. Not standing and fighting when that would likely mean your death? The horror! 

This perspective also (for me) says a lot about his semblance itself. This is the moment where he starts working towards it, so given what we know about semblances, souls, and the circumstances in which they’re developed, I’d say his emotional state is pretty important. Sun wants to stay and fight. He’s told that not everyone is powerful like him. He’d need more people in order to defend his home. Then he literally creates more of himself to help him in battle. Problem solved. 

The strange part is what kick-starts this development. Sun sees a magical (???) tree that appears to him and him alone. It’s “a desert willow, green and flourishing with white, rose, and violet flowers” and it’s what he focuses on whenever he needs to draw on his semblance. It’s unclear what, if anything, this tree is meant to represent. There’s obvious symbolism regarding a “flourishing” plant in an otherwise desolate wasteland, but we are not (as of yet) privy to whether this tree is a real thing with a real, tangible connection to Sun. It would be easy to conclude that Sun just imagined it despite his own insistence otherwise, but in a story where semblances, magic, and gods do exist? Who knows. I hope this is going somewhere because it’s frustrating to drop something ~symbolic~ into a universe that’s supposed to be governed by concrete, magical rules and leave the reader floundering over how to categorize that.  

We come back to the fight where Sun decides that Brown was “both the leader of the group and the most dangerous. Why? Because he was hiding the most.”

Hold up. 

How do you know he’s “hiding the most” when they’re all wearing identical masks and doing the same, shady stuff? 

Why in the world is the concept of hiding things connected to leadership? 

Not going to lie, it feels like a dig at Ozpin. “Oh yes, the most secretive one must be the leader because we all know leaders do nothing but hide things. The two are so intimately linked that I can look at three people who are all acting suspicious, single out the guy who I’m assuming is a faunus based on no evidence, and thus further conclude - since he’s totally hiding that part of his identity - that he’s the leader here. Simple deduction.” 

Sherlock Holmes would be ashamed. 

More importantly, you know who’s also a dangerous leader who hides things? 

Oh, also this guy. 

But instead of acknowledging this we’re offered the simplistic explanation that this is the leader of the bad guys because only bad guys hide stuff. Right. 

I’m already getting the sense that Sun’s characterization - like Ruby’s - is going to suffer in this book. They should absolutely be written better given who they were when we first met them, but both end up being mouth pieces for the weird themes the story keeps insisting on including. To be clear, I’ve got a lot of issues with Sun in this story so far, but they’re issues that I don’t think should exist. It’s not “I dislike this character” but much more “I dislike this character but that’s only because you’re making them do and say really OOC things. Give me back the version of this character we had before.” There are characters I don’t vibe with and then there are characters who should be on my wavelength but the creators went and changed course somewhere. That’s always disappointing. 

(Aside #1: Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how awkward posing and answering your own question is when we’re supposed to be the PoV? That “Why? Because...” is incredibly jarring. I’m focusing on content over prose here, but the prose needs a whole lot of work in places.)

So Brown is apparently a faunus, and the leader, and hiding extra stuff because Sun says so. The two begin fighting in earnest (with Sun’s clones taking on the other two), but don’t worry, Sun has enough confidence to spare: 

“Brown had some kind of martial arts training similar to Sun’s – but he wasn’t nearly as good.” 

Brown proceeds to knock Sun down and disarm him. Easily. 

The fact that Sun can’t land a hit on this guy then causes him legitimate shock.  “‘Oh crap’, Sun thought. ‘I’m losing. How am I actually losing?’” I don’t know, maybe because you’re a second year student going up against an adversary of unknown age, origin, and skill? The confidence of all our characters is astounding to me. Doesn’t anyone ever question whether they can win a fight? Or acknowledge that losing one is expected? Both Sun and RWBYJNR seem to have come out of the Battle of Beacon thinking, “We have survived one (1) battle and therefore we are the best ever. Losing? Never heard of her.” There’s a difference between writing a confident character and writing a deluded one. Sun should not be blindsided by the fact that someone else in the world is more powerful than him. 

(For the record, the eternal exception to this is Toph Beifong. They really let a tiny blind girl say, “I’m the goddamn best” and made it fact. I am, and will always, be here for that.) 

Amidst this shock Sun thinks about Beacon and immediately shies away from those memories. I quite liked that. I wish the web-series did more to acknowledge how traumatizing that battle was (akin to what we got with Yang’s PTSD and Ruby’s nightmares before both were dropped), so I’m pleased to see nods to it here. 

Sun is just acknowledging how he probably should have brought some friends along when a copy of Tri-Hard lands nearby. Huzzah! Velvet is here! Sun should be pleased right, especially since he was just thinking about how much he needs help? 

“Great. Team CFVY (coffee) was here.” 

Ugh. Well this is frustrating to read. What precisely is going on here? Sun is the guy defined by “You should always get friends involved!” Then he ditches said friends to chase after Blake. While working through this decision he finds himself in a situation where he’s alone again largely because his team is mad at him. So he’s coming to terms with how much he misses and needs those friends... only to think a sarcastic “great” when someone actually show up to help him? 

He’s written as an asshole here. Velvet and Yatsuhashi save him - the three baddies use a smoke semblance to run off - but “Sun bristled at the implication that Velvet and Yatsuhashi had rescued him.” Can’t we have one character with a bit of humility? The writing attributes Sun’s attitude to a competitive school where prestige is everything. Team CFVY’s unexpected arrival and their subsequent fame seems to rankle... but we’re really going to ignore that they’re here because, you know, their school was destroyed and their headmaster murdered? I know that people think stupid, selfish things all the time (god knows I do), but it’s a bit much to have Sun be so over confident that he gets himself into serious trouble, get annoyed when he’s offered help, and then insist that he never needed that help in the first place. That kind of behavior rankles and for good reason. It’s fine as a flaw for one or two characters, but we’re seeing this across most of the main cast. Is no one able to look at someone outside their team and just go, “Thanks for the assist”? 

The one redeeming part of this scene is Velvet practicing her quips. I support her attempts to sound like a cheesy action hero. 

(Aside #2: There had to be a better way to deal with the team names other than writing “CFVY (coffee)”...)

As the three chat we learn that the rogue huntsmen Carmine and Bertilak may be involved with these shady characters, the missing people with powerful semblances, and I, who has not read the first book, learns about Gus, someone capable of amplifying negative emotions. There’s... a lot attached to that reveal, but I’ll leave it alone for now. It’s not fair to drag it when I’ve only gotten a passing mention. 

Alongside discussing Very Important Plot Points, the group dives into Sun’s difficulties with his team: 

“Besides, the guys are still a little annoyed with me for ditching them.”

“To chase a girl,” Yatsuhashi added.

“It wasn’t like that.” Not entirely. “Blake needed a friend.”

“And your team needed you,” Velvet said firmly. “After everything we saw at Beacon, with everything going on in Mistral—”

“They were fine.”

“But you’re their leader,” Yatsuhashi said.

“They’ll come around.”

“Maybe you would be able to regain their trust if you didn’t keep running off without them,” Yatsuhashi added, sheathing his great sword.

Sun narrowed his eyes. “I liked you better when you didn’t say much.”

Sun is, again, written as an asshole! It might be understandable that he wants to ignore all his mistakes, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating for those around him - or the reader. Like admitting that he needs help and then getting annoyed when he gets it, here Sun refuses to engage with the actual problems in his behavior. He won’t admit those mistakes. You ditched your team to chase after a girl. No, no, it wasn’t just about chasing her... Your team needed you. No they didn’t! You’re their leader. Pff what does that have to do with anything? It’s deny, deny, deny. On top of a mean quip at Yatsuhashi. I’m just reading this train-wreck like

I want to re-emphasize here (because I keep getting asks with the accusation) that yes, I do understand that stories need conflict and yes, I do want characters to have flaws. It’s just that lately RWBY feels like all flaws all the time, most of which are never even acknowledged as flaws. Which mean the characters aren’t improving. There are very few moments lately where I feel like our heroes are legitimately kind, or wise, or intelligent, or compassionate, and that’s making it hard to connect with them. Knowing what I do of the fountain scene with Yatsuhashi, Fox, and Neptune makes things even worse. Would it be so horrible for Sun to be happy that his friends came to help? Or not sneer at Team CFVY so much? Or admit that he messed up? It’s the amount we’re getting across the whole cast that’s a problem, alongside rejecting other conflicts that would be much more logical for the story and much more emotionally fulfilling (such as Team RWBYJNR disagreeing about anything). I find it exhausting to watch. And now read. 

I did, however, like Sun calling Yatsuhashi out on his own insults: 

“Besides, people have attempted [invading] before,” Sun said. 

“Back when Vacuo had something valuable, like Dust,” Yatsuhashi said. 

Sun whistled low. “Spoken like a true outsider. If you don’t want to turn Vacuans against you, you’ll stop making comments like that.” 

Yatsuhashi looked away. 

It’s a legit thing to call out. Please don’t imply that our city has no value now that we’re not producing this specific commodity. Sun expressed those feelings in a way that didn’t crucify Yatsuhashi, but let him know he’d spoken out of turn and helped him understand why he, as an individual, should care about changing his perspective (“If you don’t want to turn Vacuans against you...”). I’d say this is one of the better exchanges in the prologue, showing us unexpected sides to each character (Sun isn’t just a laughing goof, Yatsuhashi isn’t the wise Asian stereotype) without them feeling OOC. 

We then end the prologue with Sun promising to help CFVY with these investigations. Offering on behalf of his team without asking, that is. I’m sure that will go over splendidly. 

As a final note before I sign off, I apologize if these recaps are... bad? Lol. Yeah, we’ll be blunt and straightforward in that description. While working through this I found myself reiterating so much of what I say in the regular recaps + asks, just because these problems seem to be creeping their way into RWBY’s supplemental material too. Doesn’t mean it makes for engaging reading though. In addition, I found myself struggling to articulate thoughts on this prologue simply because I didn’t know what to make of these writing choices. What’s up with that tree? Why are Sun’s thoughts going around in a contradictory circle? What am I supposed to do with all these lines that grind the story to a halt because my brain goes, “Wait what?” The easy answer to all this is, “It’s not a well written book, Clyde” and yeah. From what I’ve read for myself and heard from others, fair enough. But I feel like there’s just enough here - that potential RWBY is known for - that I want to try and clearly lay out as much as I can... even if it still comes out a bit muddled. 

It’s summer. I just finished another massive project. There’s a pandemic on. My brain is as fried as my eggs this morning. If you’re okay with the outcome of all that, stick around :D

[hopesbarnes]

Falling for a God

Summary: Everyone still thinks of Loki as the alien who ruined New York. But after getting to know him you realize he's far from that. But is this just harmless flirting or more than that?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Curse words, fluff, Loki is really cute in this

A/N: This is a repost of a one-shot originally posted to my AO3 page

The flirting has been going on for weeks now. You’re unsure if this is just a game or if the god wants you as much as you want him. It started when you were training one day. 

You were sparring with Sam to work on your skills in the off chance your powers were impaired. For some reason, it was unusually hot in the training room. So naturally, you took off your top, thankful you put on one of your nicer sports bras this morning. It was one of those zipper front sports bras and it was slightly unzipped. However, it had been a push up one and maybe not the most appropriate one to wear in front of your teammates. But it was what was clean, and you felt confident in it. 

Sam was looking at you, distracted by you taking your shirt off. You took this chance to knock him off balance and straddle him so that he was pinned. “Uh, I think that is enough for today Y/N, we’ll continue tomorrow” Sam managed to spit out as he scrambled to head towards his room.

You decided to go over to the treadmill that happened to be next to Loki rather than ending your session early. 

“You nearly had that poor man panting, Y/N.” Loki snickered at you. 

You looked at him confused and asked Loki what he meant. 

“Are you that naive? How did you miss that he was clearly aroused?” 

There was no way Sam was turned on by you, was there? 

“Oh dear, you are that naive. What did you expect when you took your top off to show that off brassiere that quite wonderfully shows off your breasts. Then you straddled the man and had him beneath your thighs in a way we all dream of having you.” he says nonchalantly. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, I- oh no” you mumble. What if he thought you liked him? “Uh Loki I should go shower, I’ll see you later,” you say as you head towards the showers to clear your head. It wasn’t until later you thought back to Loki’s words and how he admitted to wanting you on top of him.

A couple of days later you find yourself up late unable to sleep so you go out to the kitchen expecting it to be empty. But sitting at the counter is a shirtless Loki with a cup of tea and a Harry Potter book. You can’t help but giggle at this. When he sees you he magically changes the book to one of Asgard’s history but it is too late, you saw the book already. 

“I- uh was just reading this book about history, I couldn’t sleep and this usually bores me enough that I can drift off.”

 "Sure, whatever you say there, Wizard’” you laugh at his discomfort 

“Okay, fine. I may have started this series and can’t go to sleep until I finish this book. I need to know who wins the tournament.” He mutters and drops the spell that turned the book into an Asgardian one.

So he was at book four then. “I’ve read them a few times and seen the movies more than that. It’s okay to fangirl a little Loki.” you smile. 

“There are movies!?” he says way too excited and it causes your smile to get bigger. “Also who is ‘fangirl’?” It takes a few minutes to explain the concept of fandoms to Loki, and then to show him what fanfiction is. The rest of the night is spent with him telling you all of his theories and favorite parts of the books.

The next three nights you talk about Harry Potter and he tells you where he is in the series. The fourth night he finishes the series (you’ve learned that Loki reads really fast) and you guys discuss the ending. You make plans to start a movie marathon tomorrow after you promise to do it in his room where nobody else will find out his love of a mortal book series. 

His room looks as you imagined, clean and very minimalistic. It’s decorated in dark black and green with one wall being taken up by bookcases. He has mostly books from other realms but you notice the last shelf is full of Earth books, mostly fictional novels. You spot the Twilight series and upon learning that he read the first one (he begrudgingly admits to liking it) you decide to watch those movies next. 

Both of you settle into his bed and begin your marathon. You fall asleep during Prisoner of Azkaban and he pauses the movie and naps with you. It takes a couple of days to watch all of the movies as both of you fall asleep a few times. But you learn a lot about Loki and grow closer to him during this time.

A week later a couple of the Avengers decide to go out for the night, mostly looking for a reason to dress up and act like they aren’t protecting all of humanity. All the girls get ready in your room together. 

“Nat can you do my makeup, I want to look hot,” you beg. 

“Looking to impress someone?” Wanda teases and you stay uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Oh my god, you are!” Natasha says shocked. 

“Maybe, I don’t know!” You huff, “I’m not even sure how I feel yet. But he said something a few weeks ago and now I can not get the idea of mounting him like a horse out of my head.” you confess to your best friends. 

They both stare at you, then start asking a million questions, who it was, what they said, and many more. Then they start to guess. 

“Well, it can’t be Vision or Bruce unless there’s something we don’t know” Wanda points out. 

You promise that it isn’t their boyfriends, that is definitely something you would not do. 

“Not Bucky or Steve, those two barely take a moment to look at anything but each other. It’s not Tony is it?” Natasha asks as the two girls running through various team members to figure out your secret crush.

 You laugh, “No definitely not Tony. Guys, I promise if it becomes something I will let you know, but for now, I just want to look good to see if they even were serious.” 

You walk out of the room in a skin-tight black dress, black heels, and dark red lipstick to go with it. Noticing Loki isn’t dressed you go over to him, 

“Not coming out Loki?” you ask. 

“Midgard clubs aren’t really my scene darling,” he says still looking down at his book. He finally looks up at you and his eyes go wide. 

“At second thought maybe I should see what this place is like,” he says while magically changing into black pants and a black button-down. You smile and go to leave. 

“Hey Y/N, save me a dance would you?” he asks and you nod in response.

At the club, everyone is trying to get a picture or dance with the Avengers. Being a lesser-known member you are able to avoid this thankfully. An hour or two go by before you make your way from the dance floor to the bar. There you see Loki with a drink in his hand looking bored. 

“No screaming fans wanting a picture with the almighty God of Mischief? you ask. 

"It seems that once you kill people and try to take over their planet, they do not respond too kindly to you. No Midgard trusts me enough to come near me,” he says and you detect a bit of sorrow. 

“Well I am from here and I trust you completely Loki. What happened before is in the past.” You assure him. “Well then I want a picture with you, it’s not every day you are around royalty, is it?” you tease and move to sit on his lap. 

"Considering we live in the same tower I would say it is but if it pleases you then sure.” You take out your phone and take a few selfies with him and your heart flutters when he grabs your hips. 

“I do believe I was promised a dance.” 

“You were,” you say while standing and he grabs your hand and brings you to the dance floor.

The dancing started as innocently as it could in a crowded club, then he whispered in your ear.

 “I never did compliment this dress, it truly is exquisite.” 

You moved closer to him and continued to sway your hips along with the music. He grabbed your hips and guided them. Loki then begins to place small kisses along your neck making you moan and grow increasingly wetter.

 “Baby, as much as I am enjoying this, we should leave now before I take you here in front of all these people,” he said into your ear. 

In a haze, he took your hand and led you to where one of the Stark cars were. You quickly texted the girls letting them know you left and were okay. Loki couldn’t keep his hands off of you the entire ride back. He started by just rubbing your thigh but his hand kept moving higher up until it reached your underwear. You had to hold your tongue to keep yourself from moaning in front of the driver. He started to rub over your panties and you swear the look on his face was enough to make you cum. Unfortunately, you were already back at the tower and running towards his room like two horny teenagers.

As you entered his room he shut the door and pushed you against it. He pulled your dress up and knelt down between your legs.

 “I apologize for leaving you hanging there Y/N,” he said before pulling your panties down and tossing them across the room. He licked a hot stripe up before flicking his tongue against your clit. You let out a moan that was far more high pitched than you wanted to. He continued to trace patterns with his tongue before pushing a finger into your hot core. It felt like heaven.

 He pumped his finger a few times before adding another finger, then added a third and you felt the start of your high. When he sucked on your clit you felt your orgasm take over and you screamed his name. He continued to lick and lap up all of your juices before picking you up and walking you towards the bed. 

“Wait, Loki.” you stopped him. “I don’t just want to fuck and be done, I want you.”

 He looked startled, “Y/N I want that too, but are you sure. The parts of me you’re asking for are fucked up darling. I’ve hurt people before.” he said.

 “Loki, I told you earlier, I trust you. You’re more than a villain. You get excited by books and cuddle when you sleep. You make me feel whole.” You confess. “But please, right now I need you to take me and show me a little bit of that dark side.”

He lunges towards you and kisses you fiercely. Why have you not done this before? He slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan into the kiss. When you finally need air and pull apart you feel dizzy.

 He starts to kiss you again and you pull at his shirt not having enough concentration to tackle the buttons. Eventually, you tug hard enough to rip it off and hear the faint sound of buttons hitting the floor around you. Within seconds both of you are completely undressed and on the bed. His hands are all over you, from squeezing your thighs, to lightly touching your nipples he explores every inch of your body. You are doing the same thing, scratching his back, feeling his muscles that nobody else would know he has, and softly grinding against his cock while moaning loudly. His hands hold your hips hard enough that you know tomorrow you will have bruises. He flips you over so that you now are beneath him and starts teasing your entrance with his cock. 

“Loki, please. I need you inside of me now. L-L-” you say but are cut off by him slowly entering you. He is by far the biggest you have ever had and the stretch feels amazing. 

“By gods you are tight.” he moans. As soon as you get used to his size he starts to thrust out and back in leaving you speechless. Your eyes flutter closed but open when tweaks your nipples. “Be a good girl and leave your eyes open.” he pleads and you obey. 

After a couple more thrusts he pulls out leaving you whimpering. 

“Baby, I want you to ride me. I want you to use me for your own pleasure and cum on my cock. Think you can do that?” He says breathlessly. 

You nod and climb on top of him before taking him all in one movement. You start to move up and down bouncing on his long thick cock. Loki makes these delicious groans the entire time, and you know he’s close when he starts bucking his hips up to meet your movements. He starts to play with your clit and you can feel your orgasm just out of reach. 

“Come on baby, cum for me.” his words are enough for you to see stars and he shoots his load into you at the same time while yelling out your name. Once you’ve ridden out your high you collapse on his chest and he rubs circles on your back while kissing your forehead.

“That was by far the best sex of my life.” you manage to mumble sleepily. He chuckles and pulls out from you and moves so that you are next to him. He manages to tuck you both in with the comforter and you hear him tell FRIDAY to turn off the lights. 

“Y/N, I think I love you,” he confesses and you smile. 

“I think I may love you too Loki,” you reply before falling asleep in his arms.

In the morning you put on a robe and go to grab coffee for both you and the sleeping god in your bed. A few of the other Avengers are awake talking about last night. Before you can escape back to your room you see Loki enter the kitchen, dressed but missing his shirt. 

Tony yells “Put a fucking shirt on man!” 

Loki replies slyly, “I would have if Y/N didn’t rip it apart last night.” 

The various Avengers all look at you with wide eyes.

 “Wanda!” Nat yells, “You owe me, it was Loki, not Sam!” 

You gasp at the fact that your best friends were betting on who you were trying to impress last night.

 “You bet on me?!” you yell at them. They laugh but you ignore them and take the coffee cups and turn to leave with Loki hot on your tail, ready for another round.