#I mean worst thing that can happen is they say it's past the deadline and doesn't count

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

Fwiw, I’ve been more vocal about how much I am struggling. It’s more than my perfectionism too. I am not hitting deadlines. There’s so many things we need to be doing and not enough support on how to do them.

My boss has acknowledged that the formal trainings are not in depth enough. She’s acknowledged that she doesn’t know how to do most things because of the system change and her leaving the case management role before that happened. She’s acknowledged that she needs to do more trainings for the new people.

In the same breath, she says we need to be hitting deadlines. We need to be looking at these spreadsheets and updating them.

I

don’t

know

how!!!!

I told three people today that I am literally drowning and have no idea where to start. They laugh, say it’s always like this, I’ll find a routine. Yes, all of the above is true. But how am I being held accountable for the stuff I can’t do with the information I don’t have?

My boss just passes the buck to my coworkers to help me. They don’t have the time. There’s only two of them.

I’m told I’m organized. My case notes are amazing. I’ve been asked to take on more responsibility of another program within our department.

I said “I’m not saying no, but I don’t have a good grip on what I’ve been given already.” She said I would have ample time to shadow. Fine. I don’t mind having more tasks, but I am getting further and further behind the more I’m given.

I don’t know how to take the compliments, and I know I’m doing alright for what I’ve been given. But it doesn’t make sense to me when I continue to fall more and more behind on the time sensitive things. Apparently that’s just how it is? But then we still get dinged for it. I know I’m my worst critic, but it doesn’t make sense to me. I am not chipping away at anything, I do one thing and I do it wrong half the time and have to re do it and by that time, 10 more things have been added.

I didn’t even start this job trying to be the best. And at this point, I’m just trying to survive. This and the hospital job are the only ones I’ve struggled this much in.

Yes, there is a learning curve, but it doesn’t make me want to stay when the culture is so toxic. When the boss is so awful. She will throw any one of us under the bus if it means saving her skin. I’ve never had a boss like that. Even at the hospital.

I have realized that my biggest hang up is the authorizations/financial side. I have no interest in that. I am a boots on the ground worker.

We refer to the type of jobs I’ve worked in the past. I guess that’s why those jobs pay less. But this job doesn’t pay enough of a difference for me to not go back to a lower role. I ran our budget and I can make a switch to a lower paying job now that M is at a higher paid job.

Today really just sealed the deal.

There are no additional training resources, mental health and burn out are not taken seriously, my boss is two faced and in it for her own gain, and the job in and of itself does not care about its workers or persons served.

[starkid256]

can i rant about how bad 2023 is for me rq?

ok so in the first couple of months of 2023 i was doing great. new year new me amiright. i was chillin on the crk wiki n shit and i wasnt doing very well in school but what can you do the us education system is flawed and nothing can fix it. i made a contest for people to draw strawberry crepe cuz that was the rage and all. once the deadline hit, i was ready to make the prizes.

i hit the biggest fucking roadblock in my life.

i just got hit with the worst burnout and depression i have ever had in my life. it took 11-12 days to write something with 1k words. this depression is still there. it pains me to even attempt to draw or write or anything. whatever, depression like this is very common. eventually, i moved on from the crk wiki and went to comic studio.

oh. comic studio. where do i begin?

to start off, if you dont already know, comic studio is a website to share comics. shocker i know. i met some friends on here from there. some of my moots i met from cs. and yet, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. there was drama left and right, mainly centering some specific sensitive users that ive blocked on here, there were people sending death threats and threatening to kill themselves every day. and i desperately told them that their lives had value. all of this drama and suicide baiting was absolutely murdering my mental health in cold blood, so when i broke my kindle screen, i had an episode where i nearly killed myself. no one saw. not anyone irl, not anyone online except for a friend who didnt take it seriously. i didnt really draw too much attention to it anyways. btw, all of this was happening while my dad ran off with my now stepmom and was dumb enough to put himself into a mentally abusive relationship. my mom, who i live with, hates those two so much. also my stepmom is queerphobic and has internalized conservativity.

i got tumblr as soon as i got my first phone, near the start of june. i love tumblr with all my heart, but it fucking murders your mental health nearly just as bad as cs. i mean, what do you expect from a website that makes you think that all the problems of the world are your fault? i have met great people here, but it still fucking sucks.

the real nail in the coffin was when a user on comic studio (who i have now blocked on tumblr) made a half baked shitty "callout post" on me. i will say, i did do something wrong that i apologized for afterwards, but everything else was past drama that they brought up even though i had already apologized for all of it. i apologized, and decided that i should leave comic studio. and so i did. keep in mind that all of this has been happening while my main family (which means excluding my dad and step mom) lives paycheck to paycheck.

now flash forward to the present. im on my phone for 14 hours a day on average laying on the couch scrolling through tumblr and watching youtube and playing roblox wishing i was dead. i have no one to blame for this behavior but myself. i would hope that the rest of 2023 is ok, but i already know i will have a horrible rest of the year. yeah this was a rly big rant. ily guys and i hope your 2023 was better than mine.

[19orionis]

Guilt future and midnight with Lazare for the not so nice oc ask meme?

Guilt

Lazare feels guilty about pretty much anything he did between the ages of 21 and 27, and a few things after that, too. The really big ones include getting involved with crime in the first place (and the worst of the specific things he did, especially the murder but also the blackmail and other actions that ruined livelihoods. He feels less bad about the theft, regular people weren't his targets, but still not great), not being a more attentive partner to Ella Martin, his then-girlfriend, and not coming out to his parents before his father died. That one really haunts him. And with Ella, though a part of him will forever be angry at their shared friend Charles for sleeping with her, he still ultimately blames himself for "causing" her to cheat on him when everything was already spiraling with his life. He does not handle this guilt well, but he doesn't avoid it, either. He kind of has the opposite problem, actually, for a long time he's had habits of punishing himself when it's not really necessary. The methods of self-punishment have gotten a lot less bad over time, though, and he is proud of himself for that! Where he used to physically deprive his body of various things that it needed, he now just kind of beats himself up about shit that happened both yesterday and over a decade ago. If he's feeling really bad, he'll also not socialize with people for awhile because he'll get it in his head that he's "undeserving" of it. Which still isn't great, but it is leagues less dangerous, and he's working to break his current habits, too.

Future

Lazare literally cannot imagine a future worse than his past, which means that the ultimate bad outcome for his life would be to once again get involved in violence, to lose his sensitivity. In the canon verse I'm working on for him and all my other characters, it's pretty unlikely for him to have a chance to get involved with that shit again, like, he's a business student in California living a regular life and gearing up to get a café going once he graduates, and this time, he doesn't need to resort to awful things to keep himself afloat. I've got a friend in business school who worked a pretty comfortable accounting internship over the summer and I think Lazare has been working jobs like that when he can to get himself through. In other verses, a return to violence could be a little more likely, and the thought would scare him. He'd kind of have to watch how much he'd say to certain friends and set boundaries with what favors he'd be able to provide. The knowledge he gained during his twenties has never left him, and sometimes he wishes it would leave him.

Midnight

In line with what I wrote for Guilt, what keeps Lazare up at night is all of his failures, regrets, and embarrassments, though he doesn't chronically have as much trouble sleeping as he used to. School, work, and socializing are pretty good at wearing him out enough to go to bed at a reasonable hour, but he does still occasionally get stuck on a thought, at which point he'll try to make himself get up and journal. If that still doesn't put him to sleep, he'll either read a book, or, if his attention span isn't cooperating enough, pull out his laptop and go down Wikipedia rabbit holes until he can't keep his eyes open. He does have nightmares, and I'm honestly unsure about the frequency of them. A recurring one involves his dad showing up at his house, looking really sick but somehow walking and talking, and Lazare being unable to speak when he sees him. No sound coming out of his mouth, no matter how hard he tries. Other themes that tend to show up include falling, sometimes over railings, or situations of extreme embarrassment. Like anyone, he's definitely had the naked-in-public dreams and he really hates those. He'll have regular stress dreams as well, usually about deadlines or car trouble.

[autisticandroids]

For the deep fic writer asks:

3, 10, 15

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

all of them. my most problematic trait is that i looooooove my own writing and reread it all the time and get tons of joy out of it. but i think maybe one of the ones i'm more attached to is getting serious. like, i really like that fic, and the fact that it's so slice of life makes me feel less like i've inserted myself into supernatural canon to make things happen, and more like i'm just hanging out with and contemplating my friends sam and dean and cas. you know? so like getting serious, or i fold in half so easily also fits that bill. and both of those fics have like... had time to age, without me getting sick of them. like other older fics i might no longer agree with the interpretations presented now, or they're on some level just porn which you can really only get so much out of, or they're just something i was obsessing over for months until i managed to actually Get It Out as a fic and then i no longer cared? so i got less interested in a lot of my other fics over time, but getting serious and i fold in half so easily i'm still very attached to.

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

oh man, it's definitely made me more confident. no question about that. like i've written fic for as long as i can remember, but it comes so much easier these days than it used to, and that makes me feel really good. like i'm competent at something, like i can put my mind to a task and accomplish it. like, writing genuinely used to be like pulling teeth and now it's... man, i'm not gonna say it's easy, but it's definitely easier. this is actually true with all sorts of writing, in the past few years, so like, fanfiction has gotten a little easier, but academic writing is nothing to me now, i can just sit down with twelve hours until a deadline and write an eight page paper with very little stress. and i noticed that getting easier. fanfiction is a lot harder than that, but it is very exciting to me that all writing has gotten easier, including creative writing. one of these days i may even be able to write longfic!!

15. How do you think your writing as improved over time?

i mean the thing is, on some level i've always been the same person? if you look at, say, some of the death note fic i wrote when i was seventeen, it's a lot like a clunky version of my current interests. i've definitely learned to use more sophisticated techniques over time. i'm better at subtext now, i'm better at implication, i more often feel like i've succeeded in what i was going for. but like, recently i went back and took a gander at some of the dumb spn fic i wrote as a fifteen year old (and later anonymized, it's not on my ao3 if i'm embarrassed by it), and don't get me wrong, it's bad, but the worst thing about it is that at fifteen i had no idea how the world worked and so the events of the fic are kind of silly. the writing isn't awesome, but it's identifiably mine. and the basic ideas and concepts are very much like... something i would really like to at least read now, as an adult, even if i might not be as interested in writing them these days. although honestly i might be interested in writing them, too.

[inkofamethyst]

December 4, 2022

ONE MORE WEEK ONE MORE WEEK ONE MORE WEEK ONE MORE full week of classes during which I have a lot to accomplish (and catch up on) as I wait in a limbo to see whether I can skip two of my final exams or not (gotta prep for this Tuesday’s midterm agh).

I told the first three potential advisors that I’d submitted the applications for their schools (which is what a good potential advisee does) and the first one got back to me and said they were happy to see my name on the list (!!!! (objectively, that was the worst application of the three (it just... it felt really cobbled together and a little juvenile and perhaps unfinished/unrevised/unedited tbh), so if I do happen to get in there it will likely be my letters of rec that save me (and, of course, my arresting personality :P))) and another one emailed me tonight during my rehearsal and told me that my personal statement was "excellent” ((!!!!!!!) she’s one of the people I knew before I started these apps so it makes more sense that she’d be a bit more informal with me lol (obviously it’s far from a promise of admittance, but it’s still nice to hear because I will be pulling from that statement of purpose specifically to write the next five (literally I could probably copy/paste from that one to my “safety” program and switch up a few things then submit it tomorrow but Imma hold off (also “safety” is in quotes because it’s still a PhD program regardless of how it isn’t super selective (and while I don’t know for sure of any verified examples of “yield-protection” (which is something that got brought up a lot when I was perusing various forums (do not recommend) as I was stressed out over undergrad admissions (I am making a conscious effort to not do that this go-round)) there’s also a chance of that happening to me with that program, so)))))!  So I’m feeling great!  Nevermind the giant spider that greeted me when I got home from rehearsal today which my roommate had to kill for me!  People are excited to see my application!! [edit 3, 2 weeks later: I now believe that “I was glad to see your application” (except from the lady I know I think) is a canned reply aimed at not inciting my fear response, and it worked for two weeks but now? oh boy] [edit 4, about 2 weeks after edit 3: maybe.. maybe I let the insecurity win again; I keep forgetting that people often mean what they say and that I should stop looking for reasons why people might lie to me]

Those were really nice to hear because my parents were talking with me and mentioned that even if I got into my “safety” only, it might not actually be the best move to go there because it’s not regarded as highly as the other schools on my list and could be more trouble than it’s worth in the future when I have to find a job and I’m competing with students from big-name universities.  Like, where you attend for undergrad isn’t as big a deal as where you got your terminal degree from, and you can’t get any more terminal than a PhD, so I’d want it to count.  But.  I will only consider that if I have to.  For the time being, I will submit all of my applications (unlike four years ago where I decided not to apply to my Choice 10 because I’d been admitted to my Choice 8 before the Choice 10 deadline and would’ve preferred Choice 8 over Choice 10 any day (funny thing is, I ended up deciding between 7 and 9 because of finances, and I chose Choice 9 (and I’m fully satisfied with that choice!  it’s just so wild that it was at the bottom of my list then (my decision has since been justified by US News and World Report, by the way, as for the past four years at least my Choices 7+9 have been tied in national rankings, but this year, my senior year, my uni pulled ahead <3 (I fully recognize that rankings are not the only thing about a school that matter, but I think it’s okay to be a little shallow sometimes))))) and wait.  Impatiently, but I will wait nonetheless.

Lots to do lots to do lots to do.

I’m thankful that I went back home this weekend.  It’s (hopefully) one of the last years that I can just make little weekend surprise visits to my family on the fly, and while I want to leave this state which I’ve lived in my whole life, I will also really really miss my family.

This week I am going to make a conscious effort to take care of myself because I’ve been slipping for like the past month and as soon as I got home my mom was like “did you lose weight” and keep in mind that a) I’ve been the same weight since I was 12 and b) they saw me a week ago.  Anyway I weighed myself and I’d lost five pounds at some point???  Dunno if it was all just this week, and she wouldn’t/couldn’t tell me how she knew, but maybe it was the sunken eyes, tired stance, slow walk combo.  But!  No more skipping breakfasts, no more late nights [edit: HA it is now 1 am and I am bad at going to bed, apparently [edit 2: I did not go to bed until 3 am but I did finish an assignment]], facewashes daily, actively spend time outside my room.  A self-care a day keeps the burnout away or something like that.

[thevoidisshoutingback]

4 May 2024

tw suicidal ideation, tw suicide, tw self harm

It's honestly very jarring, the difference between how I feel now compared to earlier in the week. On Monday and Tuesday I felt as though I was drifting close to the edge - literally had the thought that this is the worst I've felt mentally since I was 19-20 and walked around with a suicide note in my wallet just in case.

I kept fixating on the Plan. Less so on furnishing the details, because even in that horrible state of mind I recognized that this is BAD place to go to mentally, but rather the fact that I have a rough plan at all. And isn't it fucked up that I've even considered how to die at all?

If I ever put it into action (and boy isn't that one hell of a thought), it will take 2.5 months before I can die. It's a long time, unnecessarily long, actually, but I can convince myself it's required out of 'obligation' (when in truth recovery me is scrambling at ways to extend the deadline should I ever reach that point).

Feels like there are two competing parts inside me. One that clamours for death, to destroy everything so I have a reason to kill myself, and one that is desperately trying to get out. A very unfunny variation of the two wolves meme.

It's the middle of the night right now, and my thoughts are darker. I keep wanting to cut, to just get that scissors from my table and scratch myself bloody. I miss it, as strange as it sounds. How the burn would feel, the sting of it in the shower, the annoying itch of healing cuts, how the scabs feel rough on the fingers. But then I think of how K looked when I confessed to him that time when I hurt myself by accident, and I refrain. I know he would want me to restrain myself for my own sake, but right now that's what's holding me back - the idea that he'd be sad if I harmed myself. And I really didn't like seeing him sad, even just in imagination (since we can no longer meet).

I wonder if the past week for me can be considered PMDD. The depression really escalated intensely, and on the first day of blood I immediately lightened up. But then this doesn't happen with every cycle, only if I was already experiencing low mood. So perhaps not. But I'll bring this up regardless during the assessment.

I actually can't wait to go to them. Hopefully I can get something good out of them.

I don't believe I want psychiatric intervention tbh, regardless of what K said. Having tk take them would be another routine to incorporate into my life, and the side effects are alarming. Not to mention how many seem to say that depression meds take off the lows but also the highs, leaving just a blunted middle. I can deal with the sadness, as horrible as it is to be crying spontaneously 5x at work for no reason. It's the apathy and emptiness that bothers me more. Sadness at least, is an active thing. I feel sad. It's painful, but at least I feel something, and that means I am alive. Anhedonia is truly a terrible thing. It takes out the joy and fulfillment from everything. There's no pay off, no reason to complete anything. There's nothing worth the effort. And so I start to think there is no reason to even try. And that's when my mind starts going to suicide.

Yeah, I think is what I struggle with most when it comes to depression, and what I want help with most. I'll wait for the assessments and see what they can give me. Otherwise I'll contact that counselling clinic on my own. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Plan A to C. I wonder if K would be proud of me?

I miss the comfort of him.

[a-spell-a-rebel-yell]

March

hello friends from faraway! i'm on time because guess what... i'm done with my assignments (for now)! finally 😭😭😭

quite literally underestimated second semester to be much easier and less busy than first semester... oh how horribly wrong i was. the mount of assignments is no joke. more classes and more professors mean more presentations i have to do. but do not worry your girl is always on top of everything and is proud to say i've always finished my assignments long before the deadline. this proven can be a double edged sword kind of thing - my profs have very high expectations on me and many times i'm picked to be the first to present or to teach the class 🧍‍♀️ the most hilarious thing about this was that some profs keep asking me whether i come from prestigious universities (Ul, UGM, Unpad etc) whenever i was able to answer their questions accordingly, and the shock on their faces when i told them i came from a private uni 😭😂 this happened three times and to me it's a very interesting experience to observe...

the double edged sword being that i remember my mum saying i could be a 'target' and that naturally people will 'latch' onto me - and she wasn't wrong. there were occasions where i bear the burden having to explain everything to everyone because the prof deemed me capable to replace her to teach, or having a classmate that keeps asking me gazillion things about our assignments when it was already explained clearly beforehand, and the worst of all is having someone copy my work (i can't say no because i'm the youngest, remember...) i did not literally spent hours every day reading textbooks and journals for this individual to copy paste what i've written in just a few secs!? well thankfully i can be more assertive these days and tell them i do not accept to be treated this way, and it was resolved quickly... but you see, my mum is right. i'm the target 🤪

but other than that school is fun. i love learning new things. i feel like i've found the thing i'm interested the most because instead of getting scared about new things now i kinda become more intrigued and excited! still have my anxious, overthinking self popping in here and there, but i've adjusted to it. here i feel like your surrounding really does shape you, in a way now i'm in an environment where curiosity and the thirst to chase answers are highly appreciated, so i become one who questions almost everything. everyone is always prepared, with knowledge on one hand and experience on the other, so i act just as such. at my prev uni all those didn't matter much so i did feel like my mind was dulled and dimmed back then...

in the same note, this month i finally get to experience a class with a 'unique' prof, a different kind... i don't mean it in a negative undertone but he is thought provoking, if i may say. his way of teaching is like tiptoeing on thin ice and free diving at the same time, every meeting leaves an impression, an indent in my mind for sure 😂 but i must add he is very smart, has unfaltering integrity, and i respect him for that. definitely a very interesting persona and a cool lecturer! will study about preadjusted Edgewise system under his supervision, excited to start because this is the most commonly used bracket system these days.

also March this year is special because of Ramadan is here! when Ramadan started thankfully i've done 1/3 of my assignments so they didn't interfere with my prayers. what it did is mess up my sleep schedule 😂 some of my classes start at 7 AM and lasts through until 12 PM, and the lot of us could barely stopped ourselves from falling asleep at class 😭 but anyways i pulled through and made a Ramadan special schedule where i have to stop working by 6 PM, the rest of the night is for prayers and Quran reading. and no matter how exhausted i am, i will always try to go to the mosque and do 23 rakaah of taraweeh prayers. at the mosque near my house it lasted from 7-10 PM... sometimes i feel like my feet is about to fall off or that my body is too tired, but then i remember i could literally spend almost 12 hours to queue and see coldplay back at Singapore so now how could i even dare not to spend 3 hours to see Allah? that's an instant energy boost for sure 🥺

midway Ramadan, we had our first ever orthodontics dept gathering for break fasting! the tricky part of this was that my year had to prepare a performance, and can you imagine all of us swamped by assignments and fasting, yet we still have to rehearse a performance!? 😂 as per usual i became the class' ghost coordinator - if it weren't for me pushing my classmates around to do things they won't do it lol and so finally we came up with a simple choreo and kak Omi's husband provided us a song to dance to. the performance wasn't really a success as expected hahaha but our profs and seniors said they appreciated the effort 🤪 syncing our moves was so hard but oh well we tried!

at the end of March, i got to meet the barudaks - Dimas/Aria/Kanti/Syifa and it's our new group name lol it was 4/4 before 😂 the weirdest mismatched bunch from senior high school that somehow became my closest friends... well that tends to happen when reality lumped you in lol. this time we celebrated Kanti's bday and her return from her internship at Maluku. had a potluck and everyone had to bring food with their initials as the first letter of its name, i brought (s)iomay! spent 5 hours playing at Aria's house and just talk about anything from job to love life, playing Nintendo Switch, it was so much fun i love laughing a lot with them!

oh boy March has been quite eventful! halfway done with second semester, can you believe it!? i feel like as i get older time somehow moves faster, i'm now about to prepare to enter my clinical years starting in third semester... more exciting things to come! will visit Bali twice (Menjangan at May 20-22 for huge ortho dept gathering and social charities, then Denpasar at September 19-21 for Indonesian Association of Orthodontist annual meeting) and other seminars 🤩🤩

right now we're entering the last 10 days of Ramadan and i'm feeling emotional as usual because how can it end so fast!? i feel like i haven't done much this time. so much rain these days and i can only keep reciting my prayers... may Allah grants us the chance to see Ramadan again next month 🙏🏻

well, that is all for now. see you on April post. until then, keep yourself healthy and happy, my dear friends 💙

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

New Years Ask Prompts + 💋

💋 “Not exactly how I planned my midnight kiss going.”

Alia was running out of time. The demon had given them a deadline, a deadline that was fast approaching and she had no idea what to do about it. Every book had, for once, been a complete dead end. Freddy had noted that she should call her father at least once, but she’d refused. He may have been a “master of the dark arts” as his cards and every book referred to him as, but she didn’t want him involved in this.

‘You should just go to the party,’ she murmured, not looking away from Marty. The pale green skin that had been creeping over him for the past hour had finally reached his chin. Shortly, there’d be nothing to see but the reminder of her failure to save him.

‘And leave you alone with this? Never,’ Freddy said, slipping his hand into hers. He gave it a squeeze, but Alia could take no comfort from the gesture. ‘There is one thing you haven’t tried though.’

‘What?’ Instantly her attention was on her best friend. Despite the direness of the situation there was a glint behind his eyes that made her insides squirm. Whatever idea had just popped into his head, she knew she wasn’t going to like. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it. If it might save Marty, she’d give it a go.

‘The same solution as in most fairy tales.’

Alia’s stomach lurched, her attention slowly drifted back to Marty.

‘Sometimes the old magics are the strongest, right?’

‘With incantations and things,’ Alia said, hearing the desperation behind her own voice. Not often did something shake her to the core like this did. She’d been doing magic for a couple of years now, faced demons who terrified her and yet lived to tell the tale. Or at least, lived to fight another day.

‘All right, well then sometimes the easiest answer is the right one.’

‘Thanks for proving you sometimes pay attention in lesson, Fred.’

‘Alia,’ he said, placing a grounding hand on her shoulder, ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’

‘It doesn’t work,’ she said in a small voice, eyes flicking towards the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight, almost the deadline they’d been given.

‘And if it does, you can apologise if you really want to.’

Alia heaved a deep breath; sometimes she hated it when Freddy was right about at least one of the thoughts swirling around in her head.

She took a step forwards, placing a hand on the arm of the chair Marty was in. She could still see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, still felt the warmth of his skin this close to him. She nervously worried her bottom lip, her thoughts running at a mile a minute and yet no other options came to her.

She swallowed before leaning in, pressing her lips against Marty’s and willing it to work.

She broke the kiss a second later, taking a step away from Marty so as to survey him, to see if the green was receding. But there was nothing. No change. Helplessness gripped her chest.

And then, Marty coughed. His eyes flew open and between one blink and the next, the green of his skin was gone. Alia sagged with relief as the first of the New Year’s fireworks exploded through the night nearby.

Marty blinked, one hand straying to his lips. ‘Did somebody kiss me?’

‘Alia,’ Freddy said quickly, dropping both hands onto her shoulders and giving her a gentle push towards Marty.

‘Sorry, it’s just –’ Alia fumbled over her words, at a loss for what to say.

A small smile danced on Marty’s lips. ‘Not exactly how I planned my midnight kiss going,’ he admitted. ‘But thank you.’

Alia nodded, wetted her lips and slipped out of Freddy’s grasp. ‘I’m going to get some tea,’ she said, before fleeing the room, hoping that she might be able to calm her thundering heart and sort through her thoughts a little more before heading back to them.

[leejeann]

If you want an example of my brain likes to seemingly go against the grain sometimes: I have a final exam later and I feel significantly more confident about the essay question (no idea what the question is yet) than I do the multiple choice section lol

[astaroth1357]

How the Brothers Would Try to Corrupt MC w/ Their Sin

I have a headcanon that it's part of demonic nature to try and corrupt humans. Though I think it would be unlikely that the brothers would try to intentionally corrupt MC post-pact, it's still like second nature to them. That means they may try to unintentionally, uh… infect their soul with sin and drag them down into eternal damnation! They don't mean it, but be careful MCs of the world.

Lucifer

One of the hardest things to do can be to make others take pride in themselves… but Lucifer is always ready for a challenge.

The name of the game is praise. The human mind can be easy to manipulate so with enough praise even the most stubborn human will start to believe a drop of their own hype.

Building up pride is a steady thing... He'll usually pick a strength or talent of the MC to give high praise. Perhaps they sing beautifully or they're rather clever, don't worry. He'd let them know.

Light sprinkles of praise steadily increase their self-esteem, which may seem nice and almost healthy at first, but in truth he's laying a trap… He knows how effective his words can be and he's just waiting for them to go to the MC's head.

You think then he would be done right? Oh no. That's not the fun part. What's fun is to then offend that pride he's spent so long building.

He thinks it's cute, really. A small comment here or a little condensation there and they'll get so mad. It's just so amusing!

Of course, he can't take what he dishes, so they'll need to watch out. But don't worry he loves them, even if they're just a little too fun to play with…

Mammon

Since when does the Avatar of Greed give gifts?

Really, that should be the MC's first red flag. Mammon isn't known for generosity, so when he's spending what little money he can hold onto on them, it's time to raise some eyebrows.

It may seem nice, almost sweet, when he manages to track down a rare vintage of wine for them or take them out to a ritzy restaurant for the night but unfortunately it's all just part of the plan…

Nobody has tastes higher than Mammon. He can't afford them most of the time, which leads to compromises, but given all the Grim in the world he'd be living in the lap of luxury - which is exactly the kind of lifestyle he wants the MC to crave too.

Anyone, no matter how modest, can give into temptation. How easy would it be to taste the sweetest wine or enjoy the most wonderful trip then want to do it again? It may seem innocent at first, but piling on the finer things can soon have the MC craving for them when they pass.

Then all Mammon needs is to make little promises, "If I make it big this time, then we'll go to France!" or, "If I win this next hand then I'll buy ya another glass." 

So how many times will the MC give Mammon a pass, then? Will they stop questioning how he comes up with his cash? Will they let him gamble just that "little bit" longer? Will they even join him...?

If they keep getting that taste of luxury, then maybe it's not so bad… right?

Leviathan 

You think the easiest way to get the MC jealous would be to flirt with other people since that's how most people go about it but, uh… 

This is Levi we're talking about. Casual flirting is pretty much out of the question.

So what is a demon to do to get their hapless human jealous? The answer is, be patient.

No one's perfect, humans especially! They'll slip up eventually… 

Maybe someone from back home just got a new car or they're sending out marriage invites. 

Maybe they have a friend who's better than them at school or sports or there's just someone who has something they want: Money, talent, looks, followers, friends, you name it. When they see it, he can feel that envy creeping in…

From there, all he has to do is feed it. Let the world poke at their little insecurities for him while he plays the supportive boyfriend!

"Did Mammon really get the promotion? I thought it would have been you! That's so unfair..."

"Satan beat your scores again? What is this, the third time? Doesn't that suck?"

Small little comments… but all with a goal to fill the MC with toxicity...

"Are Asmo videos still doing better than yours? I think I know how to drop his numbers... if you want."

And soon enough, anyone can be an enemy. Everyone has it better than them… so they push the world away in order to feel better. And they become so toxic, the world rejects them in turn...

Except, of course, for their loving boyfriend, Levi.

Satan

If you want to keep someone mad, it's best if you're not the actual one doing it.

I know, it sounds counterintuitive, but turning yourself into the enemy risks the target cutting you out. Satan knows this, so he'll never enrage the MC directly...

But indirectly? There's a start.

Everybody has little pet peevs. Tiny things that aren't important, but dig under the skin nonetheless.

Breadcrumbs in the butter, gum-smacking, toe-tapping, tones of voice, or just little annoying inconveniences that can sour one's day...

Satan is well-versed in these tiny annoyances, he'd dare say they're in his domain. And, perspective that he is, he'll know what frustrates the MC soon enough.

Then it's just a matter of execution.

Maybe he jacks with their toothpaste tube or "conveniently" forgets where they put their books... Or they keep mysteriously finding fingerprints on their game disks or seemingly can't keep their room organized to save their life!

It may just seem like the world hates them... but really it's just their demonic lover.

These tiny details and little mishaps will just build and build like cracks in their foundation until it all breaks and comes crashing down… and he'll be right there egging on every moment of it!

Asmodeus 

You would think that Asmo would have the easiest time tempting the MC into his sin, but that's not so.

Sure, most traditional definitions of Lust begin and end at carnal desire, but what about those MCs who maybe aren't so drawn to the sins of the flesh? Fear not! Because the keyword for Asmo is desire.

Really, Asmo is happy if the MC's mind is full of nothing but him. He wants them to desire him, to love him obviously, but to the point of obsession. His heated kisses and sensual whispers are only means to that end, which can change whenever he needs.

The MC will have their life bombarded by their beautiful demon. It's not an unwelcome smothering, he's among the best boyfriends they could ever hope to have, which is exactly why he’s so effective!

He wants them to need him at every moment. Soon it will feel weird to go places alone without their demon… Certain things they could do themselves, like their hair or getting dressed, they'll want him to do instead.

Of course, if he's able then he'll certainly seduce them as well and at every chance he gets! From the House to RAD and even in the throne room - he's shameless!... But that's the fun, isn't it?

Beelzebub 

Oh Beel… He's probably the most dangerous one of them all. Not because he's so demonic, but because he's so sweet!

When Beel makes food for the MC or orders them an extra side, he does so with love. He just wants them to be full! ...or so he thinks.

Beel's demonic instincts creep up on even him, he's just not one to really question what or why he does things sometimes. He'll know he has the urge to see the MC eat or just be indulgent… but he won’t know why.

You could actually say it works to his advantage. Whenever he offers the MC another turkey leg or a few more bites of cake, his tenderhearted insistence is often so sweet that they'll just go along with it and try to keep eating… even if they're already full.

Now, the human body can only take so much food at once, but over time it can adapt to changing habits.

Eventually, the MC will find their appetite expanding to catch up… They'll stop feeling full as easily as they used to and soon the bigger portions that Beel gives them will be all but a necessity!

Of course, the worst case scenario is that this doesn't happen at all and they do serious harm to their health by always pushing past their limits… but there's no guarantee Beel's solution won't just be more food anyway.

Belphegor 

Belphie is the only brother who will knowingly (and gleefully) try to make the MC as sinful as he is!

It's all for selfish reasons. If the MC is slothful, then they'll want to go out less and (probably) spend time with him more. Win-win if you're Belphie.

Since he's well aware of what he's doing, he's pretty damn effective at it. No other brother will be as committed to meddling with the MC as he is.

He'll convince them to cancel plans or sabotage their alarms so they oversleep. He'll suddenly be unable to sleep without them while his naps seemingly get longer and longer… And if they have something to do, he'll be the voice in their ear saying it can wait!

Really, at any opportunity he can get Belphie will try to drag them down or slow their progress with the sweet, sweet promise of relaxation or a good time...

Sure, it may sound nice at the time - great even! - but it won't take long for their promises to break or deadlines to pile up… Sure, the MC could try to catch up but wouldn't that be too much work? Wouldn't they rather rest instead? Why even worry about it?

It's a seductive line of thought and Belphie sells it well, it'd take only the most motivated MC to resist his charms but like that'd stop him. If he wants the MC for himself, he'll happily put their life on hold to do so. Just go with it... yeah?

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

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

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[omegawolverine]

👀 mcc discourse? /gen

okay mcc discourse time everyone strap in

the three things i see people being pissed about most often are the lack of lgbt+ people in the event, the specific lgbt+ creators playing and, of course, technoblade being involved. so, let's break down why all three of these things are fucking dumb.

1) "there isnt enough lgbt+ creators".

this would be a fair argument that i could get behind...if not for the way mcc is set up for this specific event—and by that i mean it is a youtube sponsored event. the ccs involved need to have platforms on youtube to be able to participate to begin with, as it is a charity event. mcc doesn't have a lot of lgbt+ streamers involved this time around because a lot of those streamers straight up could not stream this event and scott literally said this himself.

on top of that, this isnt a "get invited and you can play!" event, it is a "you need to apply to be involved" event, meaning, if people dont meet the deadline, or they dont apply at fucking all, they cant play. that's not on fucking scott or anyone organizing mcc, that is on the ccs (if they even wanna be involved, i could not blame them for avoiding mcc after last times mess) who didnt apply in time/at all.

2) "there isnt enough diversity in the lgbt+ streamers" aka "im erasing people's identities and, again, disregarding the literal qualifications for this mcc which include having a youtube platform"

i keep seeing people bring up how every lgbt+ person in mcc is white and able bodied and neurotypical etc etc (which is an inaccurate statement anyways) as reasons why they "arent good enough" or they're bringing up how there "isnt any of [x] sexuality/gender involved" as if that's the organizers faults and i uh. i hate to break it to yall but, again, this is an apply to get in event. if these ccs that were "more diverse" (bc why the fuck are we referring to these ccs playing in fucking minecraft championship as some weird ass diversity characters instead of real life people who are more than their race, disability, etc.) met the requirements and were lgbt+ but just didnt apply, while a lot of other white, cis, neurotypical, able bodied, whatever the fuck else, did? yeah. nobody can change that. scott didnt just pick and chose who gets to play, there are literal rules for this event and also applications that are involved like?? hello????? and obviously i would love to see some more lgbt+ creators from different backgrounds with different identities in the cast, that would be awesome, but that is ultimately not up to the organizers. they cant force people to play. they cant skip people in the waiting lists. they can't have people who cant stream be involved in this mcc as their first event, both because it would be sad for them not to stream their first mcc and because it is a literal charity event.

and, to make things worse, a lot of people are saying there "isnt any trans people this mcc" which is just. a blatant lie. eret isnt cis and sqiashey is genderfluid, yall just dont like eret so you decide to refer to her as a "cis man" constantly, which is transphobic, and yall also dont know sqiashey so instead of doing research, you started running ur mouths and then didn't apologize when you got called on it.

like. even if eret was truly problematic, which i dont believe they are as they have apologized for every little mistake theyve made and dealt with the backlash from entitled little privileged teenagers online all while not complaining even the slightest bit, that still doesnt give you a right to misgender them and erase their identity as a non cis person entirely because you're mad over a fucking minecraft event like??? how fucking privileged you must be that this is what gets you heated. not any actual homophobia or transphobia, but apparently "lgbt+ people in minecraft not being diverse enough". choke.

3) "technoblade is a lesphobe, why is he in mcc"

tw on this section: i discuss my expierences with homophobia as an afab nblw briefly and reclaim the d slur (if you wanna read this section and avoid the homophobia discussion and/or d slur, skip from "as someone who is nblw" to "techno making a shitty joke").

all of techno's lesphobic comments are from 5+ years ago and were, at worst, jokes in poor taste. as someone who is nblw, i have had men follow me and my friend around and call us dykes for holding hands in a museum, i have had my family members harrass me for my sexuality and casually talk about how im gross and wrong for liking girls and i have been punished by literal teachers for showing "too much pda" with my past girlfriends despite the fact that ive never even kissed someone on campus before, just held hands and hugged. techno making some shitty jokes when he was a teenager years ago, while also having a plethora of examples of him being an lgbt+ ally, which does include lesbians, should not be treated the same way as literal bigots calling queer people slurs. and if you think it should be, you have had it fucking lucky.

yes, it is valid to be upset over these jokes, they're fucking weird and he shouldnt have made them, but to treat it with the exact same seriousness as a grown ass adult showing blatant homophobia in current times? no. fuck no.

extra notes bc there's some minor discourse points i left out: no, dream team shouldnt get to be involved in this event over other cishet ccs involved just because they have bigger platforms because this quite literally isnt about them, it's about lgbt+ people and they just didnt happen to get in. shut the fuck up. stop mentioning ant and velvet as people who shouldve been involved, they're quite literally together rn doing little daytrips and shit and they most likely dont wanna spend their time together playing fucking minecraft. also, stop saying techno should be replaced with ranboo (or anyone for that matter), it breaks ranboo's fucking boundaries and him donating 100k to the trevor project doesnt suddenly mean he gets to skip the mcc waiting list.

in conclusion: twitter stop whining over pride mcc, your privilege is showing.

(tagging @tauntwenthome bc you said you wanted to hear as well <3)

[kusagrasskusa]

Kuai Liang and Child Reader, X Innocent Reader Headcannons - "POV: You're desprate for a plot"

My ideas are running short and these are short hesdcannons. Their also terrible so

Yeah, I knew I had to put down something before the deadline on my WIP List, but I wasn't sure what. Sooo child reader then innocent reader it is.

BASICALLY THERE'S 2 PARTS TO THIS STORY. The first part is CHILD READER, the second is INNOCENT READER. Please don't be confused later on lol

~~~~~~

Okay, most importantly, Y/N is a very quiet child. Straight faced, silent, half of her face is covered by a scarf so no one knows if she's happy or sad, all that. Soft voice that's never used much. It took a few days before Y/N adapted to her new life with Kuai Liang and a few days longer before she actually talked. Clearly, bebe was in a lot of pain

No one really knows how Y/N got there. The child was only 5 years old, wrapped in plenty of layers of cloth to keep her warm. It seems that overnight, she just appeared at the Lin Kuei and Grandmaster Liang kinda just excepted it.

She's quiet, cuddly, and fucking adorable. Like, beyond comprehension adorable. Maybe it was that innocence that made Kuai not question where she came from right away and just let her in. After all, in this time, anyone could be a spy or villainous character.

Y/N would just sit and watch the people in the clan fight while she ate ice flavored snow cones. She stared with great admiration and awe, but got nervous easily whenever she asked if she liked it by her caretaker, the Grandmaster.

Kuai didn't have a big father figure but his memories with his big brother was sufficient enough to teach him how to raise a little girl. He knew how how play and talk to her without being too serious or too childish. However, the problem is, he wasn't sure how to talk to a girl he knows nothing about. She just appeared on his doorstep one day wrapped in a giant scarf and such, nothing else. And she was too nervous to talk a lot.

Red flags, hmm? The good thing is that the Lin Kuei was very protected so Y/N would have have chance if she really was a spy. But they all doubted it. She grew very popular among the Lin Kuei members and saw them as older brothers almost. As days past and she grew to know them, she saw them as a family.

Kuei was one of those "parents" that messed up a lot when he was talking. He knew how to talk to her age group, but that doesn't mean he does it. He would usually say something she didn't understand, causing her to giggle and stop listening to him for a moment. Or if he spoke to childishly, she'd grow bored. If he ever tried to use words she frequently used that aren't popular in the Lin Kuei on the slightest, she'd burst out laughing. After all, when some wise dude tries to fit in with a 5 year old, it can be complicated.

As Grandmaster, Kuai spends a lot of time managing and making schedules for the people. Y/N would usually sit besides him silently, playing with a stuffed toy she brought from whatever her origin place was. Actually, this is where Y/N spoke for for first time. They were sitting together, and Y/N sneezed so Kuai said, "bless you." Y/N thanked him, making him jump. "YoU cAn sPeAk!??-"

Honestly, lots of hugs are shared by this wise and serious man and you

When you talk to him, he gets so happy. He doesn't show it, but he lives hearing your sweet voice. He knows your in pain from being forced to leave your home for whatever reason. Talking is a great sign of battling that sadness too!

When he finally got you to him all the time, he felt so proud of himself. He never got married or had kids so this child was his biggest accomplishment in his eyes.

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

Kuai loves to be with you. Your adorable outfits, sweet voice, pure mindset, humble actions, everything.

Y/N is a girl who grew up in the clan, but was kept hidden most her life by her parents. Maybe because they didn't want a kid and didn't want to acknowledge her, maybe because they had lost a child and wanted wanted keep her safe, or whatever. But whatever the reason, it kept her from knowing the dangers of the world

Fear doesn't make sense to her. Kuai loves Y/N's ability to cheer him up when he's nervous or scared simply simply stating something like, "if today is the worst day of your life then that's good. That means every other day is gonna be better!"

Kuai loves to bring you those cliche lovey dovy things to make you feel special. Roses, chocolates, ice shaped like animals, etc.

Y/N loves to make him things in return. But with all her time inside the house growing up, she's never been good at practicing her ice combat. But her food and music skills are fkn amazing.

Y/N refuses to acknowledge the amount of murder that happens in the clan. Every since she stared seeing Kuai, the clan seemed much less violent for her sake.

Cuddles. Every night.

Goodnight. Every night.

I love yous. Every few hours

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt.  Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.”

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.