#I guess I just think about how little of my stuff gets any reach nowadays

[bonkalore]

*grabs u by the arms and shakes you wildly* Holy shit your the person who used to make Portal art omg I’ve seen you everywhere sjnbjhnsubnjajnubunjb I can’t believe your still active!!!!!

Oh, haha Yes! I've been active for quite some time! 😅 Before and after Portal! Been around for a while... Hoping I don't have to go any time soon either!

I'm a bit curious where "everywhere" is?

[hermit-lover]

oooh okay! that's brilliant 'cause i had a request idea locked away n I love your writing n thought you would be perfect for it

if you are willing, my request is winged!grian preening winged!reader's wings n teaching them how to fly because they've never used their wings n always kept them hidden due to past experiences

you can change up the idea however you like of course

Teach me to fly

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Character: Grian x Winged!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.8k)

Theme: Romantic, Hurt/comfort, healing

TW: Mentions of traumatic events, panic, exhaustion, insecurity, touch starved reader

A/N: Writing avian stuff is so much fun, and fluff with a side of angst? You are going straight for my heart. Couldn't fit flying in, but have cute preening content.

The sweater hangs uncomfortably, clinging to your limbs. Its cozy sure, but you wish it was gone. To feel the air on your skin. The bind across your chest tight, pinning the offending mounds of flesh down.

Your wings.

Rolling your shoulders, you continue to browse. What were you looking for? Right- fireworks. It was hard to focus nowadays, the soreness in your body and memories haunting. Pushing open the chest- you cringe as your ribs pull. A stack for one, and you start counting. Placing five in, you retrieve your goods, sending them into your inventory. A swoosh of air blows your hair out of place, fluttering the signs attached to the cart.

"Hey!" A voice chirps, over shooting before another swoosh lets them backtrack. A smile tugs on your lips, and you squint into the sky to try and spot the familiar blob. The flash of red approaches, landing on top of the cart. Red wings and blonde hair. Grian.

"Hi." You nod, "what's up?" You were always envious of the fact he felt safe enough to show his wings, and how perfectly the feathers fell. Brilliant mix of shining reds, stunning blues, and glowing green. Your own wings were tattered in comparison, black feathers rumpled from their misuse.

"Not much." He replies, tilts his head slightly, scanning your features. You try your best to look awake and upbeat, fighting against the fatigue. His eyes narrow and you can sense he's seen through your disguise. "How are you?" Grian places extra emphasis on you. You try not to flinch.

"Oh you know- I'm okay." You shrug, instantly regretting the motion. He hums. A small rush of air, and he lands down next to you. Clawed bird feet landing near silently.

"Just okay?" He asks, voice dropping. Pity. It was always pity.

"Yeah- I guess." Heat flushes your cheeks. He must think your stupid.

"Look at me." He requests suddenly, and you realize that you looked away. You obey. His eyes are soft, brows pulled together, and a small frown. It was the same face he made when he was worried. Wait...he was worried for you? No no no that's not right. A warm touch on your cheek makes you jolt back. "Sorry-" He apologizes, freezing. A hand was reaching for your cheek, sharp nails careful to not prick. He-he wanted to touch you. You had thought so much about him touching you. It was hard, you couldn't get to comfortable with physical contact- You slowly lean back. What was he planning? His palm is warm, soft and gentle. You try not to lean into the touch. "Im going to be honest." He starts, firm but calm.

"Okay." You whisper, aware of how hoarse your voice is. When did your throat close like this? Why were you so close to crying?

"I don't think you're okay." A brief flutter of panic clutches your heart. But...the look in Grian's eyes makes it quickly flee. Hot tears prickle in your eyes. He could read you so well. Somehow he picked up on your every little emotion time and time again. Despite you trying to hide. Lock them up so tight. He says nothing as you sob, ribs clenching and throbbing with the motion. You slowly recognize something within. The longing for touch. It was unusual for you, trying to hide your wings meant you had to refrain from any hugs, or fun handshakes, or casual leans, or cuddle piles, or sleepovers-

You lean into him, sagging into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. He tenses briefly, then his hands move to cup your head, and rest on your back. You would protest- but you were too tired. It was a pointless battle. They would find out eventually and hate you. Its fine. May as well enjoy one hug. Tear flow freely as you cry, hands balling into the soft material of his sweater. It was everything you ever imagined. "I've got you." He whispers, hand resting on your back smoothing down- from the back of your neck, shoulders, and then freezing at the bottom of your shoulders. Where the base of your wings pressed awkwardly into your skin. He hates you. You didn't need to see his face to know that. Any second Grian would jerk away from you just like he did-

"You have wings."

...

It was...breathless, as if the realization punched the air from his lungs. Yet...it wasn't scornful. "You have wings!" He exclaims, leaning back to look at you, but still holding your waist close. What was he thinking? didn't he find you disgusting?

Delight lit up his features. Sparkling his eyes like when he's had a particularly good idea. Delight...he didn't hate you? "You didn't tell me!" He briefly frowns, but seems to excited to let it last. "Can I see them? Why do you have them all wrapped up? That has to hurt, is this the reason your upset?-" He starts fretting, moving away from you to try peek at the newfound limbs. You were stunned.

So he didn't hate you. Instead..he seems rather excited? There was no disgust or pity in the way he fluttered about, hands moving yet not touching out of respect. You say nothing, unable to formulate words to fully describe the situation. "We should go to my base!" He declares, "There you can show me them- its more private." He reaches for your hand like he would with any other hermit, then pauses. Remembering his manners. "That is...if you want?"

What did you want?

You wanted him to hug you again- that was given. You did want to get rid of the bandages, but the prospect of showing your wings was terrifying. But there was no hesitation from Grian, just acceptance and excitement. Maybe...maybe you could? He was an avian as well- even moreso then you. So maybe he would be okay? Plus- if you wanted anyone to know. You wanted Grian to know.

"I want to." The words sounded foreign on your tongue, as if you yourself were not speaking them. With it came a spark of excitement. Grian's grin couldn't be bigger, and he grabbed your hand. The contact made your head spin. The vague realization that he's touched you so much- and now that the cat is out of the bag- he'll touch you more.

He pulls you along, letting you walk in silence as your head spins with possibilities. What would he say about the colour of your wings? Black had always been frowned upon, its why others hated you so much. It was seen as an omen, bad luck, death. It was why you had stopped flying- although also because it brought an unfair advantage. You were just lucky they didn't cut off your wings.

"We're here." Grians voice makes you jump, "Sorry." he apologizes immediately. You shake your head in dismissal, gesturing for him to enter. Without missing a beat, he opens the door, nudges you in, and follows, closing the door. It was warm inside, you knew Grian had a weird thing with liking the warmth. Not that you minded, the calm, comforting atmosphere wrapped easily over your heavy mind. Easing some tension from your shoulders. Grian guides you to his bedroom, a place you've been only a couple times. Dropping in through the window to scare him, wandering in during a conversation. But now, it was...different. His soft grip leads up to sit on his bed. You sink into the many layers of blankets. The topmost one is fluffy and soft, you want to curl up on it and nap. Alas, you would get no such luck, as Grian stands in front of you expectantly. His clawed feet click against the wooden flooring as he turns to face you completely. You must have a look of your face, because Grian's eyes soften.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want-"

"I said I did." You snap back a little to quickly, cringing at your tone. "Sorry-" you take a deep breath, "I'm just nervous."

"Thats okay." He reaches forward slowly, giving you opportunity to pull away. When you don't, his careful palm rests on your cheek. Pulling heat to your face. "Turn around." He requests, and you obey. Tucking your legs up onto the bed, and shuffling around. Missing his hand when it leaves your cheek. "May I remove your sweater?" He asks, excitement clear in his tone, as he tries to stay calm for you. You nod, and shudder slightly as his fingers brush against your skin.

The garment is pulled up, and you help him by removing your arms. It's tugged over your head- and dropped into a heap on the floor. He sucks air through his teeth. A flash of guilt makes you cringe. He was disappointed. "...Why do you bind them?" He asks, sadness coating the tone. You can feel his claws brush against sensitive limbs and the wrapping pinning them down. Why do you bind them? Shame. Shame at their colour- what they stood for. The unfair advantage, and how he- the tightening in your chest reminded you bitterly of your last server. How poorly they handled your wings. You were disgusting.

"I hate them." You whisper, venom dripping from the words. "They make me disgusting."

"No." Grian says sharply. No? No?? "They make you beautiful- special." slowly, the pressure on your chest lessens, and you realize he's loosing the bandages. "They are something to be treasured, taken care of." you can feel your feathers settle as the binds leave. "You are so strong, and you deserve to be proud of them- you deserve to be proud of you."

"Grian." You shake your head, disbelief coursing through you veins. He was flattering you- he didn't really believe it-

"Spread your wings for me." He breathes, warm hand placed between where you wings meet on your back. Maybe it was an instinctual part of you to want to show off- maybe it was the way he said it- maybe it was the influence he had on you-

The limbs were painful and sore, shaking as you extended them. Yet, satisfaction burned. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the shiny black feathers. The silence hits you suddenly, and insecurity grows-

"You're gorgeous." Grian mutters, and heat flushes your cheeks. You want to tell him no- protest- but the sheer affection in his voice pushes the air from your lungs and coats your mind. You wanted to be doted upon- and here he was. Goosebumps prickle up your spine and across your arms as his fingers begin to deftly move. Sifting through the tattered feathers. You feel him remove one- a small sting of pain. When your wing's flutter he jerks back. "Sorry- I didn't ask-"

"What were you doing?" You interrupt, curious more then wanting him to stop touching you.

"I was preening you- its an avian thing where I remove all the broken feathers and clean the dirt out." He explains, no judgement in his tone. You hum, extending your wings to his mercy one again. He gets the idea- and the gentle movement returns.

It was mesmerizing. His gentle breathing, the darkness of the room, the soft sifting of feathers. His claws deft and smooth, removing some soreness and ache caused by your neglect. Shivers races up your spine, and relaxation grips your every limb. You find your head drooping- eyelids heavy. So much touch- it was wonderful.

"Sleepy?" Grian asks lightly, chuckling. You cant formulate a response, humming instead. He stops preening and you whine- he shushes you. "Lay down- lets nap." You can argue with that. Flopping forward you burry your face into that plush blanket. Grian's weight shifts the bed next to you, his wing brushes your own. Then, his arms pull you closer, nestling you against his side while his wings tangle in your own.

You've never cuddled anyone before- let alone slept next to them- and the warmth was almost too much. Exhaustion pulled down, and pleasant fuzziness encapsulates your being.

Grian didn't hate you. He loved your wings.

It would take a long time to get used to Grian knowing about your wings- and the physical contact that came with it.

But you were so excited.

[freaksstar]

jay finds out about your little hobby hc (pt 2)!

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pairing: jay x fem!reader

wc: 850

genre: fluff, hc (if you wanna consider it a genre)

warnings: mentions of small cuts, blood

a/n: second installment to this mini series! ill make the master list for it now. im aware this isn't like serious writing, and believe me, i can write seriously, but i thought starting off my account with some laid back, fun hcs would be a good way for me to actually start writing! im gonna start working on a few oneshots (with grammar and everything yes, trust, i cant stand reading oneshots or fics that don't have correct grammar and punctuation, all the things), but if you have any requests please do send! i need motivation to not procrastinate on writing these anyways lol.

↳ m.list for series

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it's a normal day 'n all, but it's special! jay got a day off from practice, and since the rest of the boys are all out meeting family and spending some time alone, he decided to come spend time with you!

nowadays, it's a bit rare to get full days with each other, the two of you only usually getting every other night to spend with each other, which always end in a tangle of limbs, giggles, and finally, sleep.

so this? great news! the two of you have been spending the day outside, arranging flower bouquets together, getting takoyaki, and even spending time at your local playground, peacefully swinging with your taiyaki in hand, the silence not much of a bother. your relationship's reached the point where you can just sit in silence for long periods of time and bask in the other's company, and that's truly heartwarming.

once the sun starts to set though, jay's offering you his hand, and you're both walking away from the barren landscape of the playground, hands swinging and soft words being exchanged.

and once you get home? surprise! on a special day like this, of course jay has to cook for you. the chef would never let such an opportunity like this go to waste. after much insisting from his side, you're sitting at the dining table, discreetly sneaking glances as he cooks. he's such a work of art. and his food, of course.

you think you're being super slick about your little glances, but jay catches them all, of course. he doesn't say anything, just decides to continue cooking, little chuckles leaving his lips every now and then when he catches you staring.

in a few minutes, he's bringing out two plates and handing one to you, before sitting directly next to you with a small smile, deciding it was time to repay you. so while you were leniently carving something from wood, his chin would come to rest on his hand as he watched you, taking note of the way you poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, focused.

slowly though, his eyes drift to your hands, where he realizes what you're carving. it's a spoon! a pretty one for that matter. you're quietly whittling intricate details into the handle, and he's in awe just from watching you.

"this a hobby of yours?" he asks quietly, not wanting to disturb you while you work. he knows for a matter of fact that when you're seriously working, you prefer to not be disturbed.

you hum in a way that indicates 'yes', and he grins, looking back up at your face again. he can't help but admire how gorgeous you look when you're hard a work after all.

"what're you making baby?" he'd ask again, after a few seconds of silence. you take a moment to respond, putting your knife down and looking at jay with a silly little smile on your face. how he loved that smile of yours.

"a spoon! for you! i've just been really into wood carving 'n stuff lately... and i wanted to carve you things for the kitchen! it was supposed to be a surprise but... i guess i don't mind you knowing about it now." you'd ramble, not noticing how he was staring at you.

god, the way jay stares at you. it's like... it could melt you. he stares at you so intensely, like the brightness of the sun, that you can't ignore it, and you burst out into giggles when you can't take his staring anymore. he never knows why you're laughing though, and just laughs with you. clueless bby.

"i'm honored to be the recipient of your gifts." he says with a small chuckle, looking away for a second. acting as if you hadn't caught the tinge of pink dusting his face. he's so unaware, it's hilarious. "yeah, i can tell." you whisper with a sweet giggle, pressing a small kiss to the side of his face, causing his face to become inevitably redder.

and so you both finish dinner together, catching up on how life's been while the both of you were busy and away from each other. the night ends with the two of you becoming a tangle of limbs, as always.

at least that'll never change with the two of you. somehow, someway, every night will end with you both being in one another's arms.

neither of you would have it any other way.

special side notes:

whenever you'd be carving and accidentally cut yourself, he'd be there in a flash! arms around your waist, and your on the kitchen counter within seconds. he's already got the little band-aid pack and he's wiping the blood away, hushing your confused queries and wrapping the cut up nicely <3 would never let his baby get hurt while pursuing her hobbies.

that's also why he makes sure that you're always carving at home. so if you decide for a change of scenery and wanna carve outside, it's a requirement that you take him with you so he can be there to patch up your cuts.

aka, he's whipped.

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tysm for reading! expect jake next <3 love you guys! gladly taking requests 😋

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[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT Bonus Story - At the Cafe

This is the second part of my collab with @scrubbinn, and follows after their part here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was nice and sunny out as I walked up to the cafe, the sun soaking into my slime, warming me up and boosting my energy a little - the perks of being a plant-adjacent slime - thinking about the meeting I was strolling towards. The pair of us had talked a little more over text before arranging this meetup, and I’d been going over all the notes and entries I’d made regarding my own transition to remind me of all the little things I might’ve forgotten about (and I found/noticed a few things I hadn’t written down before) so as I could offer some first hand heads up about the changes they were gonna go through over the next couple of years. It didn’t take long for me to reach the cafe, and I walked in, quickly looking around at the tables for the blue tint that would single out my fellow slime, if they were already here. I did notice a few of the other patrons looking over at me as I had walked in, likely a little off-put by the visible musculature in my face, but I’d gotten used to that, and didn’t pay them much attention, especially once I spotted Mayday already at a table. I wandered over to them, greeting them with a wave, already feeling my tail wagging slightly behind me “Hey there Mayday,” I said as I took the seat opposite her.

“Oh hey! Great to see you made it!” There were red streaks under Mayday’s eyes which she tried to hide poorly. “I was just looking at the menu for this place, it’s so rare to see affogatos sold nowadays, right? I’m excited to try one. Anyways, how are you? Any new changes since we last spoke?” I noted her energy, and figured she’d rather not talk about whatever was stressing her out

“I… barely remember what affogatos are if I’m honest, I’ve heard of them when I’ve been places, but I’ve never ordered one,” I confessed nonchalantly, trying to hide the concern I felt for her “And I’m doing good, sunny days have been much better for me over the last year, so I tend to feel better when the sun is out,” I told her “As for changes, nothing really noticeable, but I think my lowest ribs are getting a little smaller, my acid is all eating away at them nicely.” I said “Oh! Actually, I’ve been working on being able to control my acidity a little - so I don’t automatically dissolve anything inside me - I’m not super good at it yet, but I can at least spare the odd thing that I place in myself,” I picked up one of the forks, moving it towards my arm, before stopping and putting it down, instead taking out my phone stylus, concentrating for a moment, and then putting the stylus into the slime of my arm “See, all safe and sound,” I announced, gesturing towards the object, before quicking pulling it out and visibly relaxing

“I see…” Mayday looked concerned at how quickly I had pulled the stylus out, and I’d be lying if I hadn’t been a little worried about it too “Well I guess practice makes perfect. I hope I can store stuff in me soon. Seems like it’ll be a lot easier to carry everything in me rather than using pockets too small for my phone. It’s great that you’re doing good though! I’ve been hearing that the later stages of the HRT can get pretty painful.” “It’s definitely neat to be able to store stuff in yourself, but once you get all acidic, you kinda have to stop unless you wanna lose whatever you’re putting in yourself to your acid,” I cautioned “As for pain, I can attest that the more recent changes have hurt like all buggery, having your stomach acid leak out into you hurts like all hell,” I told her “But hey, then you can eat metal, so pros and cons,” I added “Lungs have been the worse so far, while not breathing is good, suddenly not being able to breathe and passing out was not fun,” I said “Currently the worst thing is kinda an itching/irritation on my bones as my acid is working on them,” I paused “Oh, and the eyelids, the eyelids suck,” I rolled my eyes “Acidic and translucent, so it’s irritating my eyes, and it’s hard to sleep,” I complained

Mayday nodded at my response, and picked up the cafe menu to begin to sort through the items “Do you have any food recommendations for a slime that can’t dissolve everything and anything in acid yet? Chewing has gotten a bit difficult lately.”

“Uh, I’m not really sure? What do you mean by chewing’s gotten difficult lately? Have your teeth turned or something?” I asked her

“Oh yeah, my teeth got all rubbery! It’s so weird cause I don’t think I’ve seen any blogs or stories talking about bones being affected first, not to mention turning to rubber. It makes tough foods harder to eat, so I’ve mostly just been blending my meals.” I saw Mayday move as if to give me a demonstration but seemed to remember that this probably wasn’t the place for that “You don’t think it’s a problem do you? Like I said, I haven’t seen any change like this from other slimes, it’s usually hair that changes first. Well I’m sure it’s nothing.” “Oh, yeah, that’s funky, my bones are usually the last thing to go in a given part, and as you can see, my head is the least gone,” I say, tapping my head, which ends up producing a slightly slapping sound “And my teeth are still going strong, for now,” I added, grinning to show them, even though they were already visible through my translucent skin “Does sound inconvenient, but if the doctor said nothing then it shouuuld be be fine,”

Again she nodded, seemingly eased by my words, before she pulled out her phone and began to quickly scroll through a shopping list. “Y’know I heard that eyelids going transparent can be a huge pain, There’s a few sleeping masks people have made to help with that sort of thing. They’re made for a more snake based change, but I think it should work for you too. I got several links if you want them.”

I paused, taking a moment to consider their suggestion “Y’know, I hadn’t actually thought about getting something like that, that’s actually a good shout, I’d love to see those links if you’ve got them,” I agreed happily

Mayday started showing off all the products she’d looked into during her past few months of browsing forums, and I smiled and nodded along, noting a few down that seemed particularly useful. Time passed without us noticing as we talked, our discussion only being interrupted when the waiter came to drop off Mayday’s drink “Oh, sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I ordered a drink ahead of time!” 

“Nah that’s no problem,” I told them “I got here a bit after you I don’t blame you for ordering already,” 

“I kinda have a pretty bad sweet tooth, so these drinks are like an addiction for me. You can go ahead and order whatever you want, my treat.” Mayday told me

I was going to protest her paying, but it felt rude, and she had said at the clinic that she would pay, so I thanked her before quickly ordering myself a cookie milkshake from the waiter, who swiftly wrote it down and left, briskly walking as far away from the two of us slimes as possible.

Caught off by his rapid motion, I watched him for a moment, before noticing some looks from the other patrons. Some seemed intrigued, but in the way a circus is intriguing, while others definitely held a look of disdain for the pair of us. I looked back over to Mayday, noting that she was either ignoring or was simply oblivious to the stares from wait staff and patrons alike.

Not wanting to dwell on that, I looked down at the affogato that she had just received. The drink looked like ice cream floating in some kind of coffee, although I don’t know enough about coffee to say what kind. It looked appealing, but the scent of coffee quickly reminded me why I’d never ordered it.

“You don’t have to tell me about sweet tooths, I’ve been eating donuts and sweets like they’re main meals,” I said, smirking, returning to the conversation

“Sometimes it’s good to give yourself a little reward from putting up with all the crap of life.” Mayday remarked “Exactly, always nice to treat yourself,” I agreed, even though I’d been more that ‘treating’ myself

“Thank you! You get it.” Mayday exclaimed "I can't wait to go full slime and I don't have to worry about dieting all the time. I'd love to eat donuts again without having to constantly worry about my weight… is that rude? I mean I want to be a slime because I feel comfortable with it, but I can't deny a lot of it is constantly thinking of all the benefits that come with it.” 

She drinks her coffee, content with her brain continuing the thought as the rest of her focuses on a drink. “Huh, tastes kinda spicy, wonder what they put into it.”

I chuckled at their remark about their drink before addressing what else they’d said “I have to admit, not having to worry about my figure or anything anymore is very nice,” I agreed, gesturing to my fairly slim looking shape “I can just make most of me have whatever shape I want,” I added “I turned my stomach fat, and some torso muscles, into a tail for myself,” I told her, raising my tail up so she could see it easily over the table “And it’s definitely not rude, as you said, it’s hard not to focus on the positives, particularly as this is something we want,” I replied, lowering my tail back down.

“Well I don't know about a tail, I was actually thinking of something else, as long as you get the acid out, they say excess slime makes a good fertiliser for gardens, so I'm probably just going to use it for that. It is a nice tail though.” She finished her drink and looked out the window towards some wildflowers growing near the street.

I felt myself blush at her compliment, although fortunately my new complexion prevented it from actually showing “O-oh, thanks,” I replied “And yeah, I’m not sure how healthy my slime would be for plants right now, I can’t remove acid well enough, but I’ll keep that in mind for future,” I said, following their gaze “I do wonder how my plant-adjacentness would affect that,” I pondered aloud, just as my own drink arrived to which I thanked the server, ignoring the slight reticence they had regarding being near me, and took a sip “Mmmm, lovely,”

Mayday stared out for a while, and I couldn’t be sure if she was either thinking about something or simply dissociating the time away. Eventually, she shook herself awake “Oh, right, I noticed my hair started changing. Do you have any hair tips? Maybe a good way to hide the changes for a little while?” She twirled a curly lock that hung off her bangs. It pulled away slightly as she stretched it out. “I just need to keep it under wraps.” She turns to look out the window to see the sun lowered, clearly sooner than she thought. “Well maybe we can go into that another time. It's getting late.”

“I can quickly give you some hair tips before ya need to head out,” I replied, watching her pull on her hair with intrigue - I’d only really seen my own hair up ‘til now “If you wanna hide the changes, I’d suggest a hat or something, but something waterproof - and actually while I’m at it, I’d recommend getting waterproof versions and waterproofing for all your clothes - turns out slime isn’t the friendliest to fabrics,” I told her “And of all of them, the hair should be the easiest to hide, since you can just put a hat over it,” I added “I’m guessing someone at home isn’t as on board with the changes as you’d like?” I asked, seeing this as an opportunity to check in with them

Mayday failed to meet my gaze, unable to look me in the eye, I guess I hit a nerve with my last question. “I… never told anyone in my family yet. I don’t think they would understand. Better to apologise for not telling them, instead of listening to them try to talk me out of it." She set down some money on the table to pay for both drinks.”It’s not a good reason, but at this point all I can do is wait until the changes are too obvious to hide, and at that point, they can’t stop me. 

I frowned a little “Can’t say I really told my family early on either,” I told them, a little solemnly “I have now of course, little hard to hide it at this point,” I chuckled a little as I gestured to myself once again “They… took it well, still getting used to it I think, but outwardly they’re accepting, was definitely a conversation though,” I said “Mostly they just asked if I was sure, and why I wanted this,” I continued “All genuinely asking,” I quickly added, not wanting her to get the wrong impression “But I don’t think they really get it,” I finished with a shrug “But honestly, I do think waiting, if that’s what you feels best, is perfectly fine, and whatever keeps you safe ‘nd doing what you wanna do for yourself,” I told her "Sorry I didn’t mean to make this conversation a downer, thank you for the tips, and just the talk. It was really nice!” They replied, clearly feeling guilty, despite the fact that it had been me prying into the subject

“It’s fine to bring up heavier topics, they often need to be talked about and people don’t like to, and even then, this wasn’t super a downer, I mean, it’s not like I don’t know that some people take issue with those of us…less attached to our humanity,” I pointed out, trying not to look around to see if anyone else was still staring “But yeah, I’ve enjoyed myself too! It’s been nice talking to you!”

“Thanks, It. It helped, just talking. Let’s try talking again some other time. I’ll be in touch. I think maybe I’ll try hashing it out with my family. I’m sure they’d support me after a while." She said

“Yeah, we should definitely do this again sometime!” I agreed “And there’s no need to rush into talking to your family, do it when you’re ready,” I added

She nodded, “Hope you enjoy your milkshake.” They said as they stood up, clearly late for something with how quickly they seemed to be leaving

I raised my milkshake in thanks for both the drink and the well wishes on my enjoyment of it, waving at the other slime as they walked out of the cafe, waving at me from the window the entire time she remained in view. Once they were gone, I smiled to myself, quietly finishing my drink before heading out myself.

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

It's been great fun working on this with @scrubbinn, (Who has their own Slime HRT series that's really worth a read) and it was neat doing more typical story writing, rather than the diary format the rest of the series happens in. Plus it was fun chatting with another slime hehe.

The next entry of my Slime HRT series will be as normal, and should hopefully be ready soonish, with the first part of the series here, and the previous part (18 months) here for those who haven't read those Anyways, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

omg i loved your dark bam imagine!!! is there any way we get some more, like how he manipulates the media or her and ends up with her?? sorry i just love it so much and you’re literally so talented!! no rush in it! have a wonderful day/evening/night/morning idk just have a good ig ❤️❤️

Can’t Stand Losing You (Pt. 2)

Whatever was going on between Bam and you was impossible to make heads or tails of. He only seemed to complicate things for you further when he gives you a surprise over dinner.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Dark, Angst, Fluff)

3.3k Words

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, suggestive content, paparazzi, bribery, possessiveness, lying, kissing

An: Thank you sosososoos much for this request!!! You are so sweet thank you!! I am so happy that my fic captivated you so much! All of your love for my work means so much! <3 I felt like the conclusion of the original fic was a little vague, so I was so happy to expand on it more! I am a sucker for the dark stuff so keep those requests coming! XD (links to parts 1 and 3)

“Hey, is this, like- Star Magazine?” Bam feigned high pitched valley girl upspeak as he pressed the phone against his ear with his shoulder. “Mmhm. Yeah, so I’m at Venice Beach, right? And I see this guy- total dreamboat- and he’s with some chick, and I’m all like, ‘Who’s that?’” Bam thrummed his a against the wheel of his Hummer, parked about a block away from your house.

Summer was brutal in LA, and swimming was one of the better ways you could cool off. Usually, you and Bam blended in with all of the other ridiculously hot people that hung out there, so it wasn’t an issue. You would splash around and Bam would end up chasing seagulls or face planting into the wet sand hard enough that he was sneezing out sand for weeks. Relatively quiet stuff (by your standards).

This wouldn’t be the case for long. “So I go to get a better look and you’ll never guess who it is!” He grinned, hearing the operator lean back and say something to someone just out of reach of the receiver- they were sending people. The operator returned, eagerly listening, “Who did you see, miss?”

“Bam Margera!” Feigning the voice of an excitable female fan, he could audibly hear the guy sit up in his chair as he continued, “And he’s shirtless too! What a hunk!” Taking a second to collect himself, Bam continued with his act, “Yeah! And, like- I think he’s with some model lady too? I dunno…maybe she’s his girlfriend or something?”

Click.

☆彡

“Are dudes really wearing that kinda stuff nowadays?” You joked, peering at the cleft of Bam’s ass crack that showed over his low swim trunks. Never in your life had you seen anyone wear them that low. He shrugged as you walked through the parking lot, past a couple of vans parked right where the sand met asphalt, “What?” He was several shades lighter than the sand you popped your folding chairs onto, his limbs dappled in multicolored bruises from skating and stunts. He looked like a bad peach. Scoffing, you flicked your sunglasses open, replying to Jim in a jokingly sarcastic tone, “You’re practically exposing yourself, Bam. You are such a slut!” Bam sat down in the chair next to you, “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Well he did have a point there- you weren’t exactly dressed conservatively yourself.

But you couldn’t help it. It was a perfect day, and you needed to get a tan for your next photoshoot for some swimwear company. Reaching into your tote bag, you grabbed the bottle of sun tan oil. The sparkly hibiscus flower on the clear bottle flaked pink glitter off into your hands as you poured some out, rubbing it onto your shoulders and back. From behind you, Bam watched you with fervor as you massaged it in. He chuckled suggestively, “You need some help with that?”

“Haha. Very funny!” You rolled your eyes, “I am more than capable of applying my own lotion, thank you.” Reclining in his seat, he chuckled, “Eh, was worth a shot.” Your eyes drifted along the sands, the sounds of the waves like silk over your ears. It was quiet, as usual, while you people-watched. Mom with her kids, some bitch from the Real World getting into a fight with her boyfriend, guy with a camera- typical stuff. And it seemed that that day, for once in a very long time, that everything was normal. You and Bam made fun of the surfers when they wiped out, he got fly-by shat on by a seagull, and everybody had a really great time.

Bam would have an especially good time a few hours after you left.

☆彡

The silver magazine rack creaked as Bam flipped through it, humming to himself. By now it was night, and the dim light from the dirty little corner store that he stopped in filtered out onto the street though the glass storefront. Tapping his foot impatiently on unswept floors, he scanned through the tabloids for anything with his face on it.

Jackpot! His eyes went wide as he snatched up the thin, papery tabloid. Bam flipped through it, his eyes scanning every page. And there you two were, a picture perfect celebrity couple. A damn sexy one too, he thought, eyeing your exposed skin. The bold, bright pink text screamed at him from the front page, “Just like Paradise! Bam Margera spotted with girlfriend Y/N at Venice Beach!”

Grabbing a candy bar, he got his purchases and had them rang up at the counter. Not even waiting to drive back to his hotel, he kicked his feet up and read by the light of the dashboard. “Hmm…” Furrowing his brow, he thought about slipping that camera guy a twenty next time to make sure he got more flattering photos of him.

★彡

With all the flashing lights and media people, you really felt like a big shot as you walked down the red carpet. All the guests at the premiere were all dressed up so nicely, in their dazzling dresses and fancy suits- and then there was Bam, who was always too good to dress up for anything, especially these kinds of things. It meant nothing, you reminded yourself, as he snaked his arm around you. You two were going together to mess with the media, that’s it. Sure, Bam bought your dress and shoes and made sure you looked like total eye candy when you were with him, but it would be just the same as when Steve and Chris make out on the red carpet- it’s just for fun.

“Hey Bam! Over here!” Some reporter lady with the most egregious hair to body ratio you had ever seen beckoned him over, sticking a microphone in his face. “Who are you with tonight?” His arm around your waist pulled you a little closer, feeling the purple velvet of your dress, “Well, this sweetheart right here is my girl, Y/N. Ain’t that right?” You giggled and smiled, playing the role of a smitten girlfriend well.

What did trip you up, however, was when Bam brought his face close to yours for what you thought was going to be a kiss. Instead, he planted two little pecks on your cheekbone, before licking a hot stripe up from your jaw to your temple. “Ah!” You couldn’t help from exclaiming in surprise as he snickered, the spit rapidly cooling on your face. The lady seemed shocked, but not as shocked as you were. And just as soon as that happened, you were whisked away to the next flock of people asking for photos of you two. You whispered to him, “I swear to god, Bam- if that makes me break out after this…”

☆彡

The premier was fun and all, but Bam decided that the movie sucked and you dipped halfway though. After sneaking pas the other guests, you silently ducked out a side door in the theater, walking down an alley that was illuminated only by floodlights. He looked you up and down, the look behind his eyes unclear due to the cool sunglasses-at-night look he was sporting, “You wanna get ‘somethin to eat?” You thought of what was nearby, not wanting to chance it with the paparazzi that seemed to follow you everywhere recently, “Yeah, maybe…do you have something in mind?” The grin he gave you after your question made you a little uneasy.

Your jaw dropped when you saw where he was taking you. It was one of those romantic, fancy restaurants with lighting so low you could barely see your plate while you were eating. “Bam! This is…you- you can’t get in here without a reservation six months in advance!” He just smirked in response, not hesitating as he squeezed past the crowd of expensively dressed people, leaving you to follow him like a lost puppy. Leaning against the lectern, he smirked expectantly at the Maitre D, “Reservation for Margera?”

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t-“ Just out of your sight, Bam palmed a couple hundreds to the tuxedo clad man. He paused, thinking for a second before nodding. “Ah, yes! Come right with me, sir.” You gawked at the lavishly decorated restaurant as you walked, Bam’s hand around yours like he thought you couldn’t keep up with him on your own.

It was beautiful- really the kind of place he would pick. You could’ve sworn you were in the castle of some medieval vampire prince as you were seated on the second floor balcony, overlooking the large dining room. Gold candle light danced off of the crystal chandelier in the center of the room, complimenting the purple velvet that was everywhere, from the upholstery on the seats to the large, draping curtains over giant windows. Everything matched, from the dark stained wood of the tables to the black jackets of the servers and the cold, metal railings you were seated near.

☆彡

You listened to Bam as he animatedly told you about his trip to Vegas he just got back in from, “Yeah, it was crazy! I mean-“ He rolled up his sleeve, showing off his most recent tattoo in the low light, “I got this done by Kat Von D.” You leaned forward to get a batter look, squinting at the design. He smirked a little, your forehead almost touching his. His voice got a little softer as he continued, “After that, me and Dunn visited the AVN Expo- had a blast.”

“What’s that?” You sat back, picking idly at your food. He seemed a little surprised at the fact that you didn’t know, his voice returning to its normal register, “You know, the porno convention.” You raised your eyebrows, your eyes widening. He chuckled at your surprise, a glint in his eye, “Yeah! There's pretty much naked chicks everywhere there! If I’m being honest, I think that’d be a great j-“ His attention was turned to the waiter who was with glasses and a bottle of wine for who knows how long, “Oh, thanks.” As he bent down to pour them, Bam paid him no mind, his smirk audible in his voice. “Anyways, as I was saying, it is a hell of a good time. Maybe next year I could get you Ron Jeremy’s autograph.” You giggled a little as the waiter fled, “That would be great! I wish I could come with you!”

“What do you mean?” Bam asked, his tone shifting as he raised an eyebrow at you. You pressed your lips together, “I mean- I'm just usually pretty busy with work. It’s not like I could just take time off.” Chuckling, he leaned back in his seat, glass of wine in hand, “Oh, sure you can’t.You have the money to go wherever you want. I go to Finland, like- three times a year!” He took a sip of his Pinot Noir, “Why don’t you go to…the Caribbean or something?” Idly picking at your food, you replied matter of factly, “Well you know people in Finland. It’s not like I have buddies in the Caribbean. I can’t even get a day off until November!”

Reaching into his pocket, he wordlessly passed you a white envelope over the purple silk tablecloth. Your head tilted to the side as you took it, opening it with your well manicured nails. Bam had an air of coolness, watching you with steepled hands as your eyes went wide. To your shock, inside the envelope were two light blue plane tickets to Westchester, Pennsylvania. The flight was tomorrow. He smiled.

★彡

It seemed that no matter what time of year it was, Westchester was cold. Your LA blood wasn’t used to the chill, forcing you to shiver against Bam, the cab’s heat blasting on you two. “I can’t believe this…” You grumbled, pulling his coat that he gave you around you. The fur on the hood felt nice against the cold back of your neck as you seethed, “My boss is gonna kill me, Bam!” He tsked, affectionately pulling an arm around you. “Oh, shut up. You know you love this.” His voice had an endearing tone as he held you close enough that you could smell him- beer and cigarettes masked under the cologne he wore to impress you. You were too cold and tired to fight, instead opting to try and sap any warmth from him and the car's air vents until you got to your destination.

The windows were steamy by the time you arrived at what he dubbed Castle Bam. You were half awake, exhausted from the long flight while he grabbed not only his but your luggage, quickly scooping you up in his arms and shutting the car door with his foot. There was no doubt you were awake now. “Ah! Bam!” He cackled as he sprinted up the driveway and into the house carrying you.

Someone sitting on the black leather couch in the living room sat up when Bam called out to him, “Hey, Dunn!” You were unceremoniously dropped into the couch, with Bam still wearing his shit-eating grin, “Meet the princess of Castle Bam!” You rubbed your eyes looking up at the stranger across from you, “Mmhm. Hi.” Nodding, he put a hand out to you, “I’m Ryan, nice to see you. God- Bam’s been talking about you nonstop.” You shook his hand and smiled back. He seemed friendly and comparatively normal next to Bam who stared holed into the back of your head with a weird look in his eye. Tossing a handful of clothes at you, he swiftly left and went upstairs, presumably to his room.

“Put these on. I have somewhere to be tonight.”

☆彡

Bam smirked, leading you through a side entrance in the venue through a packed hallway. It felt like one of those things you shouldn’t be doing, but you did it anyway. “Y/N, this guy’s probably the coolest person you’ll ever meet.“ Giving a nod to one of the security guys, Bam led you up a set of stairs, squeezing past people, giving you the rundown.“His name’s Ville Valo, and his band’s called H.I.M. Got that all?” You nodded, trying to show that you were listening. He smiled, reaching a door at the top of the stairs, “Good. Now, don’t make an idiot’a yourself.”

From how much you heard Bam fangirling about these guys, they were kinda…underwhelming looking- you expected something a little bit more Sisters of Mercy. You walked into a room of maybe five guys, just sitting around, drinking beers and waiting to get called onstage. “Hey, Ville! What’s up, man?” He plopped down onto the little floral upholstered couch someone must’ve fished out of a dumpster next to maybe the most beautiful man you had seen in your life as he shot a nod to Bam. You were beaconed over, and you squeezed in between him and the arm of the couch, practically sitting on his lap.

From the far end of the couch, Ville leaned across to you, giving you a once over with half lidded eyes. “Pleasure to meet you” His voice was gentle, with an accent that was remarkably European (though you couldn’t place exactly where- you’re a model, not an encyclopedia). He gave you a lipsticked smile as Bam turned to you while you were distracted, taking your face in his tattooed hand and gripping it hard as he suddenly pressed his face against yours. Your eyes went wide as you felt his tongue against yours, freezing like a deer in headlights. This isn't something friends do. You couldn’t figure out where your mouth ended and his began until he pulled away from the mess of flesh with a cocky grin, “LA’s finest.”

He gave Ville one of those looks that say more than words ever could. Seemingly unphased with Bam devouring you like a lion eating a gazelle on the Savannah, he laughed a little and got up, pleasantly gesturing for you to follow him, “Here. I’ll show you backstage.” And he led you down the stairs and through all these corridors, Bam still holding you close the whole time like he was afraid you were going to float away. “And this,” Ville gestured to a door that was labeled as his dressing room, “is where it all happens.” He glanced back at you, making the kind of eye contact that insinuated things. This clearly displeased Bam, him shooting a look back at him. Ville just chuckled, but before anything rash happened, someone came and got the band to bring them out onstage.

☆彡

The dark, desolate car ride home after the show was underscored by the music playing from the stereo of Bam’s orange Hummer. He had 24 CDs and about 22 of them were H.I.M. The green numbers on the stereo blurred in your vision as you squinted, trying to tell the time. You could see that it ended with ‘Am’. Sighing, you closed your eyes and let your head hit the window as the music washed over your brain like river rocks, the singer going on about his “poison girl”, whatever that means. Behind the wheel, Bam smiled, glimpsing over at you from the dashboard light. So much had been going on, and you just needed to not think too hard for a little. And you got back to the castle and headed upstairs and before you could realize it you were in his bedroom. It wasn’t too bad- his black sheets felt so nice and the room was comfortably dim, exhaustion claiming you. Friends share beds all the time anyways.

But out of the corner of your eye, you spotted something hanging out from under his mattress. You thought to yourself- he was in the bathroom, so it wasn’t like he’d notice if you snooped a little. Quietly rolling off the bed, you bent down and wiggled out the pink, papery object. Your eyes went wide as you stared at it. It was one of those celebrity tabloids- with you on it. Perplexed, you lifted the mattress up more, wondering why in the hell he’d collect this kind of thing.

Oh god. Your heart dropped. There had to be at least twenty under there. Some were from before he even met you, and others were as recent as the previous week- just tucked away down there like prison contraband. Your mind was racing so fast that you didn’t even notice the sound of the bathroom door opening as Bam walked in- not until he leaned over you and put a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. Whipping your head around, you were face to face with the fabric of his gray pajama pants and the bare skin of his stomach, close enough that you could feel his soft skin on your eyelashes as you stared at his heartagram tattoo. You still clutched one of the tabloids in your hand as you panickedly looked up at him, gesturing to your findings. “What- what’s all this…?” He sighed, kneeling down to get eye level with you.

“Y/N- Y/N. Listen.” He took one of the magazines scattered on the floor into his hands, seeming earnest as he spoke, oddly calm, “I only buy this shit cause it’s funny. I mean- they say all this ridiculous shit about us!” Flipping through one of them, your eyes scanned the pages. Everything that was written about you was…oddly sweet, endearing even. Something seemed to click in your head. He liked you- he liked you. He was trying to impress you this whole time. Silently engrossed in what you were reading, you mused “Is it really that bad…?” Bam’s eyes flitted up to yours and you almost seemed to smile as you turned it over to read the cover, “Just like Paradise…Bam Margera spotted with girlfriend, Y/N, at Venice Beach.”

You were just barely- no, less than an inch away from each other as your eyes met his. And you kissed him and it felt good- so much better than that kiss before. It was soft and sweet, in a way neither of you were really expecting it to be.

[sw2-serials]

The Day My Father Called Me a Girl

(this pic is begging for a rude caption, but bear with me)

Another about-me post with absolutely no spanking but if anyone is interested…

My father is no genius, but he knows a lot.  And he’s not a big athlete himself, but he could have been a really good coach if he’d ever had a boy.  He coached our pee-wee soccer teams and it was fun, even though I wasn’t all that good.  My sister Sarah, two years older, was better, but she had no interest in it.  That was pretty much it for sports.  I learned to ride, though only on family vacations, and tried tennis and cross-country without a lot of success.

It wasn’t too long before my father stopped asking my sister to help him do things around the house and let me do it.  I loved this arrangement and she did, too.  One thing my he is smart about is levers and mechanical advantage and he was always trying to teach me not just how to use tools but how they worked.

Along with using the tools properly, he drilled me on body positioning.  “Get your feet set,” he’d say, over and over (oops, I guess some of that was my fault!).  Nowadays when I hear about a football player (American football) needing to improve his footwork - especially the offensive linemen getting ready to block - I always smile and think, “He needs my dad’s help.”  Basically you want your feet in a line at right angles to what you’re trying to work on, to ‘square up’ to it.  (For stability, you want your feet in line with the direction you’re moving.)

My dad never called me a ‘tomboy’.  I didn’t play with boys any more than girls, I didn’t ‘wrassle’ - though I did run around (slowly, I guess) a lot and get pretty dirty, collecting rocks and twigs and stuff.  Sarah was more interested in the ‘pretty’ than the ‘dirty’.  Dad never said something was ‘unladylike’ or ‘girls don’t do that’ (my mom didn’t, either).  Maybe I’d get grossed out by something a boy would have just laughed at but that was about the extent of it.

Sarah got interested in make up pretty early while I didn’t.  I have dark lashes and brows so I didn’t really need it like she did, and I wasn’t as pretty in any case.  I’m sure if I’d asked my mom she would have said something reassuring, like she would in any case, so I didn’t ask.

So this one time when I was twelve K was visiting, a boy cousin my age.  We were helping my dad and I heard him say, ‘Get your feet set’ and I smiled, having been told so many times.  (I also checked my feet).  Dad took a minute to show what he meant, getting K positioned properly to saw through a thick branch in front of him.  Not a whole lot later he was showing him again.  It made me proud to have known this for years.

A few more minutes passed and K started on another branch.  My father was a little out of reach and called out to him ‘Get your ass behind you.’  I heard, but was around the corner and I don’t think he knew I was there - but this was the perfect, succinct, and memorable description of what he wanted.  In all the years he’d told me to ‘Get my feet set’ - probably for the past six at that point and plenty more after - he never said this to me.

Upon careful consideration, my dad had never treated me like a boy when I ‘had to tinkle’ - not even on camping trips - but this was probably because my mom had no intention of even using a Port-A-Potty, let alone peeing in the woods, and my sister fully supported this.  Also, one time, he said ‘You might not be interested in boys, but I can tell you, they’re interested in you,’ (which I found doubtful), which I guess was also a recognition of my gender.

But when I think back, what I remember is that time he said ‘Get your ass behind you’ to my cousin that he would never say to me ‘because you’re a girl’.

[goddamnwebcomics]

Do you ever just grow tired of the ‘wait and see’ mantra of webcomic readers and authors? This is such a hard topic for me to complain about or explain myself on because so many people seem to always believe that any comic, show, or even cartoon that has a smidge of mystery in it is ready to wait for an indefinite amount of time for it to be answered, practically being dismissed over my issues with it like I’m being anti-fun about the problem some comics end up doing. You have to find the whole thing terrible at times when it comes to bad, boring, pointless, or just disappointing outcomes that some webcomics can reach with how they handle their own respective stories or character developments, right? I’m still a little scarred over Star Warriors doing all four things to me at once in the last six years I wasted on it, so I tend to be very wary of this regular occurrence.

Mmmmh. “Wait and see” could apply to literally any trope that continously builds up towards something, but that’s a topic for another time. In terms of mystery, I think if fans can correctly guess the outcome, it shouldn’t be changed based on that.

That being said, every mystery has a shelf life, and that shelf life depends on like, the size of the mystery.

With webcomics it’s worse because webcomics go one page per day/week/month instead of being issue/episodic like other media formats. With a book, you usually get reveal to something before the book ends, same with movies unless it’s blatantly building up to a sequel which most movies nowadays are.

Allow me to do an example of what you’re trying to say here, let’s pretend there is a popular webcomic called Rondy and the Gruel Factory. In the first chapter it’s hinted that Rondy gets weird telepathic messages from “The Unvision”. “The Unvision” constantly shows up during the following chapters, and they just say vague stuff but have strong control over Rondy’s life. Then ten years later, in Chapter 7, it’s revealed that “The Unvision” was just Rondy’s mom, who was doing the same thing The Unvision was doing but just without telepathy. This was a twist the author wanted to do at Chapter 3, but due to changing priorities, lack of motivation and a two-year hiatus that happened as a result of author breaking his palm at an arm wrestling contest, this happened much later and was extremely disappointing. Yet the author and his fans failed to see the problems with constantly dragging this mystery out.

[hangovercurse]

Favorites

You work at the preschool next to Casie’s middle school. One day, you catch Colson’s eyes while working, and lucky for him you happen to know his daughter.

Request: “Hi!! Let me start out by saying that you are so so so talented!! I was wondering if you’d write something about colson falling for a preschool teacher? like he just sees her one day while he’s picking up casey from the middle school and he’s all soft seeing her interact with the kids and he makes up excuses to keep coming to see you!?”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing (maybe?)

A/N: I did that thing where I write too much… again.

Word Count: 2394

Colson tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, drumming softly to the beat of the music coming from his radio. He pulled into the school parking lot, the line already a million cars long it seemed. But he promised Casie he would pick her up whenever he wasn’t working so she didn’t have to take the bus. If that meant spending thirty minutes in a line of slow-moving cars, so be it.

As he was jamming, he glanced out the passenger window, finding a smaller building with a chain link fence outside, surrounding a child’s playground. The door happened to swing open while he was looking, and from there time seemed to move in slow motion.

Out of the door came a dozen or so toddlers, waddling their way outside, surrounding the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. The sun bounced off of your skin perfectly, making everything around you seem so much brighter.

Your skirt flowed with the slight breeze, making the scene more picturesque. He watched as you reached down, picking up one of the toddlers and holding him in your arms. The small boy seemed to be crying, over what Colson couldn’t tell.

You seemed to be speaking to the boy, bouncing him up and down in your arms to comfort him. Meanwhile, a little girl with pigtails made her way over to you. You spoke to her brightly, reaching the arm that wasn’t holding the boy to hold her hand.

Colson’s eyes followed you as you let her drag you over to the playground. You supported her as she climbed the small rock-climbing wall and reach the landing for the slide. You then smiled as she made her way down the slide, telling her good job when she made it to the bottom.

You then turned your attention back to the boy in your arms, making silly faces at him until he laughed.

All it took was those few moments for Colson to get hooked. If there was one thing he found attractive above all else, it was women who loved children. He refused to date anyone who wasn’t supportive of his relationship with Casie, so you were already ahead of everyone on his list. It also helped that you were breathtakingly beautiful.

Colson just got good vibes from you. From his brief observation of you, he could tell you were compassionate and kind, but also childlike and fun, much like himself.

The blonde man was pulled from his thoughts as the car in front of him started moving, signaling the line was moving.

 The next day, Colson had a plan. Instead of driving into the school parking lot, he pulled into the pre-school. He checked himself out in the mirror, praying he would see you working. He stepped out of the car, putting on his best confused dad face, and walked into the building.

And by some miracle, you happened to be speaking with the woman at the front desk.

You were even prettier up close, eyes meeting his and stopping him dead in his tracks. You smiled kindly, voice ringing out, “can I help you, sir.”

He returned your smile, “I was looking for the middle school but I have a feeling I ended up in the wrong place.”

You giggled slightly, “just a little. The middle school is just next door.” You pointed to your right. “Are you picking up a sibling?” You asked.

Truthfully, the man had caught your eye the moment he stepped into the door. It was rare you saw someone your own age, and he was exponentially more attractive than most men. What would it hurt if you got to know him a little bit?

“My daughter, actually.” He spoke, fiddling with the key in his hand. You tilted your head, his face seeming vaguely familiar.

You hesitated before speaking, “who’s your daughter? I substitute over there sometimes and you look vaguely familiar.”

He bit his lip, hoping he hadn’t blown his cover. “Casie Baker.” But surely, he’d have remembered you if he’d met you.

Your eyes widened at the name, “Casie? She’s my absolute favorite!” You grinned at the man, realizing immediately that their similar features made him feel familiar. “She’s awesome.”

Colson smiled, letting out a nervous chuckle, “thank you. Yeah, she’s great.”

“She tells me about you. Whenever I sub in her classes, she talks about how cool you are.”

Colson blushed lightly, rubbing his neck. “I’m Colson.” He reached out an arm to shake your hand, mentally kicking himself as soon as he did it.

You found it endearing, shaking his hand “Y/N.”

 A few days passed and Colson still couldn’t get over how soft your hands were, or how your touch sent electricity running through his body.

He felt ridiculous, leaving rehearsals and recording sessions to pick Casie up with the hope that he gets a glimpse of you.

After a few days of nothing, he almost loses that hope. Until he happens to arrive at the school a little bit early, windows rolled down to let the cool air in. He hears the sudden sound of children laughing, pulling his attention to the playground next door.

And there you are, in all your beautiful glory. Guiding the kids out, helping them into swings and onto the stairs.

Colson must’ve pleased some God because you looked over your shoulder and found him. Of all the cars in the line, you found his, eyes locking immediately. You smiled softly, reaching a hand over to him and waving. He waved back, trying to keep his cool. But really, he was freaking out.

He thought about saying something, or mouthing something, rather, as you were too far away to hear him, but he was stopped by the beautiful brown hair of his favorite girl in the world. Casie plopped herself down on the seat next to him, her backpack falling to the floor with a frown on her face.

She looked up to her dad, about to complain about her day when she saw his preoccupation. She followed his eyes, finding you in the playground. Immediately her mood was lifted, and she turned back to her dad with a grin on her face.

“Daaad?” She questioned, her voice lifting at the end of her question. The blond man looked down to her a soft smile in his face.

“Hey Case, how was school?”

“You think she’s pretty, right?” Casie ignored his question.

Colson scoffed, rolling his eyes, and shifting his car into gear. “She’s… pretty. I guess.” He mumbled, pressing lightly on the gas.

Casie continued smiling up at him, “that’s Ms. Y/N. She’s the coolest.”

“Put your seatbelt on.” He said, pulling out of the parking lot. “And I know, I met her the other day.”

Casie’s eyes lit up at the thought of her two favorite adults meeting. “Really? How? Did you like her?”

Colson chuckled at his daughter, “I went into the pre-school parking lot by accident and she showed me how to get here.” He blushed, knowing Casie would easily spot his lie.

And that she did, “I’ve been going here for almost two years, how did you accidentally go into the wrong parking lot? You pick me up all the time.”

Colson coughed nervously, “so, how was school?” He tried to change the subject.

Casie gasped, “did you go to the preschool just to see her? You like her!”

“I just met her Casie.”

“You like Ms. Y/N!” she sang, dancing in her seat.

“How was school, loser?” He asked, laughing at her.

She ignored him, again. “Does she know you’re my dad? Did she say anything about me?”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself at her excitement. “Yes, she does, and yes, she did.”

“What did she say?” Casie practically yelled.

“She said you were the worst student she’s ever substituted for.” He smirked, flinching lightly as Casie slapped his arm.

“She did not say that!” The girl pouted, “Ms. Y/N is my favorite teacher in the whole world.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her affection for you. “She’s not even technically your teacher. But she did say that you were her favorite student.”

Her eyes twinkled, “really?”

Colson nodded, “she also told me that you talk about me in class.” He looked at the girl, raising an eyebrow, “any reason why?”

Casie sunk into her seat, a guilty expression on her face. “No.” Colson looked back to the road, but his eyebrow was still raised, “Okay, fine. I just think it’d be really cool if my favorite dad and my favorite teacher were… friends.”

Colson laughed, “I am your only dad, first of all, and second… don’t be weird.”

“But you said you liked her!” Casie pointed out, making the man’s ears turn red.

“I said she was pretty, that’s not the same thing.”

Casie sang again, “whatever you say.”

He rolled his eyes again, letting out a sigh and dropping the conversation, knowing he would lose. “Are you gonna tell me how school was or not?”

Casie sighed, hitting her back against the seat, “Mr. Clemmons was being mean today again. He said he’s not gonna curve our test even though only 2 people got an A on it.” She crossed her arms and huffed.

Colson pouted, bringing a hand to rub her shoulder, “what’d you get on it?”

She mumbled out, “a B.”

His eyes went wide, “dude, what? That’s awesome, that’s above average. You should be proud of that!” He always tried to encourage Casie, knowing the insane amount of pressure people put on their kids nowadays and not wanting her to feel that.

Casie shrugged, “yeah but my guidance counselor says if I want to get into a magnet program in high school, I have to get all A’s. And I have to get in a magnet program high school to get into a good college.”

His eyes went wide as he pulled into his driveway, “woah, woah, woah. You’re 11 years old! You don’t need to worry about that stuff and whoever is telling you that is wrong. Getting a B or even a C isn’t gonna stop you from getting into whatever program you want, I promise.”

Casie sighed, opening the door, and sliding out. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Can we go back to talking about how you like Ms. Y/N?” She asked, her shoulders slumped.

Colson rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and following her inside. “I don’t like Ms. Y/N.” He groaned.

“Whatever, but next time she substitutes my class, I’m texting you and you’re gonna bring me lunch and talk to her.” Casie said, going to her room and throwing her backpack onto her bed.

 A week and a half later, Colson was sitting in his car in the school parking lot, staring at himself through his rearview mirror. He looked at the bag of chick-fil-a in the passenger side seat and sighed. His phone buzzed, a text from Casie coming through.

Lunch is starting, where are you???

He chuckled and texted back.

Going to the office now, calm down

He grabbed the bags and drinks, opening his door and stepping out. He made his way through the office, getting his visitor’s badge, and moving towards the cafeteria. He opened the door, searching through the sea of children for his daughter, only to find your eyes instead.

You smiled brightly, head tilting as if to ask why he’s here. He returned the smile, holding up the bags to answer your question. Casie appeared next to you, waving her hand. Colson made his way through the pre-teens, trying not to crush any of them.

Casie and you giggled at his struggle, joking with each other. Eventually he reached you two, setting the food on the table that Casie had reserved just for you three. The girl took her place across from him, motioning you to sit down next to him. You laughed but followed her directions.

Colson took the food out of the bag, passing Casie her sandwich and fries and pulling his food out of the bag. He turned to you, a smile on his face. “Woah, they must’ve given me an extra sandwich.” He held it out for you to take.

You obliged, giggling lightly. “How strange.” You commented, your smile never leaving.

“Oh, right. Ms. Y/N, this is my dad, Colson. Dad, this is Ms. Y/N, the best substitute ever.” Casie said, pointing between the two.

Colson chuckled, “yes, Casie. We’ve met.” He looked over to you, hiding his laugh behind his sandwich.

“Yep. Someone got lost and found me at the preschool.” You said, your voice exaggerating. Shit, Colson thought, you were onto him. “Speaking of, Casie. I know you’ve been talking about needing volunteer hours. If you want you can come by after school some days and help me with the aftercare program? I can take you home afterwards if your dad can’t pick you up.”

Casie smiled brightly, nodding her head. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Colson watched the interaction, fondness in his eyes. If he wasn’t sure before, he was now. He was falling hard.

You turned to him, kindness in your eyes, “if it’s okay with your dad.” You said and he nodded.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind having her around. I’m cool with it.” He tried to hide the blush on his cheeks as you continued to look at him, taking in his features.

Casie squealed, “thank you!”

You simply smiled and shrugged, “it’s not a big deal. I get some extra help and I get to spend some more time with my favorite 11-year-old. Maybe her dad can even stop by and help sometime.”

You turned to the man next to you, who was sure he’d turned very red. He was never this nervous around women, but something about you made him incredibly self-conscious, like he had to impress you.

He mumbled out a quick “huh?” before registering your question. “Uh, yeah, sure. If you want me to come help. I’d be cool with that.” He turned to meet your eyes.

You giggled, holding the eye contact, “I do want you to. I’d like it a lot if you did.”

Casie looked between you two, suddenly regretting what she’d done, “are you two done? I’m trying to eat my sandwich.”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Magic Reveal fic we deserve, in which Merlin gets as angry as he deserves to get:

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Don’t get me wrong I LOVE a magic reveal with a Merlin who feels bad about lying. I love a reveal with Arthur being furious and Merlin crying but then they talk it out and all is well. I think it's pretty in-character for Merlin to want to see Arthur come to his own conclusions about magic, without being influenced by Merlin’s opinions

BUT I also kinda wanna see Merlin get angry? Like, why should he feel bad about hiding himself in a kingdom where "himself" gets him nothing but a pyre?? Yeah, he and Arthur are close, but unless you've lived with a secret like that (one that will get you shunned, hated, or even killed) then, and I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, it doesn't matter How Close you are with someone, how certain you are that they would never hurt you, or care either way, it will almost ALWAYS be scary to tell them. So like. Let Merlin get angry:

I'd say Arthur has been king for maybe a year at this point. He's still a new monarch, still a lot on his plate, BUT also still plenty of time for him to have repealed the ban on magic, or at least started working on it.

But he hasn't.

Granted he hasn't executed anyone in a while (banishments and prison time are the norm, executions are only used nowadays for high treason). BUT the law still remains, it's still technically punishable by death, to be a sorcerer.

Arthur and Merlin have little hunting trips, when Arthur is getting too stressed and losing too much sleep, when he trains the knights too hard and snaps at even Gaius, Merlin (or sometimes even Leon, if they're both being grumpy arseholes) insists that they leave the city for a day or more, to go hunting.

The council have been told it's so the King can keep up with his fitness, can keep familiar with his lands, and keep his skills sharp (he only has enough time to train with the knights a couple times a week nowadays, a far cry from the several hours he used to do every morning without fail), and that keeps them satisfied.

The Gang (the Knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana (she's good in this because that's what I want let me have this)) know the truth, that sometimes the two of them just need a few days to goof off and be themselves, to finally get some time to relax. They'll grab a couple hares and maybe a stag on the way back if they can, so they can at least pretend that's what they've been doing the whole time.

These trips can last anywhere between a day, to two weeks, and Arthur leaves the same set of instructions with the council and the knights every time:

"The safety of Camelot’s people is your highest priority. I leave Sir Leon in charge of everything to do with the knights, patrol, and should any form of conflict arise. If there is an emergency, you are to consult the Inner Council (I don’t know if that's a thing but let's say it is; its The Gang), and send a squire on horseback to fetch me immediately. There's one boy in the troupe who always manages to track me the down the quickest, so make sure he's the one sent, Sir Leon knows who I speak of."

(He's improved over the years, but Arthur is still very... cagey, when it comes to compliments, and his trust. Leon will never mention it, but the fact that Arthur leaves the safety of the kingdom to him, without hesitation or worry, makes him feel greatly honoured. That is the highest form of trust Arthur is capable of giving.)

~

ANYWAY I feel like most of this has just been backstory so let's get into it:

Normally it's Merlin or Leon who demand that the trip needs to happen.

This time

It's Arthur.

Arthur has tried to ignore it (he's trying to get better but he's not great with emotions and stuff, the big dummy) but Merlin has been in a sour mood for weeks now. He's been quiet and withdrawn, snappy, and has been avoiding Arthur whenever possible.

At first it was easy to ignore, when it started a few months ago it was barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know the two of them Very Well, but in the last few weeks it's become a problem.

Arthur reckons a trip might do them some good. Merlin can relax, and will either get over whatever is bothering him, or be comfortable enough to talk to Arthur about it.

So they head out. Merlin doesn't seem too happy about the trip but he doesn’t complain.

(Odd in itself, if Merlin is unhappy about something he usually makes it known.)

The first couple of days are... odd, to say the least. It seems that every time Arthur notices Merlin relax, he quickly tightens up again. One short, joking conversation is followed by a few more hours of painful, awkward silence.

Arthur comes to the daunting realisation, that if he wants to help is friend (and the love of his life but like... baby blondie has hardly reached that conclusion himself, he might need a bit more time on that) is to confront it head on.

So they're settling down in the evening. The fire is roaring, the horses have been fed and watered, dinner has been eaten, and the two of them are sat at opposite ends of the fire (Very Odd, they're usually glued at the hip, especially when it's just the two of them).

Arthur looks at his friend properly for the first times in a while and he Does Not Like what he sees.

Merlin is visibly exhausted, big bags under his eyes, and his skin paler than normal, scowling ever so slightly into the fire. Shoulders tense, and hands gripping each other until the skin on his knuckles is white. And despite all that, Arthur thinks that Merlin looks more sad, than angry.

Maybe Merlin notices Arthur's staring, they hold eye contact for a little while before Merlin becomes sort of... resigned?? To the fact that he's gonna have to have this conversation whether he wants it or not? He goes to say something but before he can, Arthur interrupts him:

"So Merlin. How do you think I'm doing so far?"

(Which is a stupid thing to say, really. But Arthur is, as we've already established, extremely emotionally constipated, and he figures that finding out what's wrong with Merlin indirectly, and then subtly fixing it behind his back, is a far better idea than asking him to his face.)

Merlin clenches his jaw and looks away it this, his reply and his body language clearly sending different messages:

"You know what I think. You're going to be a great king."

Arthur thinks : "(Going to be? I've been king for a year, there's been no war and far fewer attempts on my life than when I was a prince. There's been a good harvest, all diplomatic meetings have gone well, and more peace treaties, and trade agreements, have been signed in the last twelve months, than in the ten years before it. I know I can still do better but... does Merlin not think I'm good?")

Arthur says : "Going to be? I think I'm a pretty great King already if I do say so myself."

"Then why ask? Besides. There are a few things you haven't done."

Merlin's tone is biting, even though he tries to force it out casually. Arthur notices. ”There are a few things you haven't done”... that means something specific.

"Hmm. I suppose. What things did you have in mind then, Merlin?"

Arthur also tries to sound casual, but the question comes out very pointed

Merlin desperately doesn't want to say it out loud, in fear of revealing too much of himself, so he goes with the vague answer of:

"Promises were made. I guess I just figured you weren't the type to break them, that's all. I'm sure you'll get there in time."

Merlin sounds sort of hopeful there. But the sort of hope that he's been living with for years, the sort of hope that has a layer of sadness and resignation laying over the the top like a tablecloth.

Arthur notices:

"Promises?" He doesn’t want to talk too much or too loudly, in fear that Merlin realises that he's speaking openly and clams up again.

Arthur has realised, over the last year or two, that despite their closeness, despite the endless conversations they seem to have, he doesn't really know all that much about Merlin. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time picking herbs, or in the tavern, as he and Gaius would claim. He doesn't know his favourite colour, or season, or holiday. He doesn't know when abouts his birthday is, or what he likes eating. He doesn't know much about his childhood, he's never mentioned his father.

(Despite all this, he's still in love with the idiot, but again, a revelation for another time.)

Merlin responds "To the druids. You promised they would be welcomed, that magic would return. I know your opinions on magic-"

(The manservant visibly shuffles at this, uncomfortable.)

"-but I figured a promise is a promise. Keeping your word had always seemed so important to you. Before."

Arthur notices the past tense. Like Merlin doesn’t believe that Arthur holds importance to his word anymore:

"I'm not my father Merlin. There have been no executions just for the sake of it since I took the crown."

Merlin’s reply comes quickly, in a harsh tone:

"Yes I know that. But your fathers law still remains. It's technically still punishable by execution just to exist as a sorcerer in your kingdom."

(Arthur notices the thinly veiled disgust in Merlin's voice when he mentions Uther. Arthur knew that Merlin disliked the previous king, but he didn’t think he hated him that much.)

Merlin is getting more and more visibly frustrated at this point. Both at Arthur, and the topic of conversation, but also at himself, for letting himself become so worked up over something he'd sworn to keep Arthur away from.

"You really didn't like my Father did you Merlin?" He says it with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.

(This is NOT a conversation that should be light and casual, his friend is in pain, and revealing more of himself than he ever had before, this should be serious. But Arthur isn't quite sure how to do that, so inappropriately light and casual is what he goes for.)

Merlin responds with a quiet, but forceful:

"I hated him. I still do. He's your father, I know that you're not him, and I know you can't help your heritage. But I'll never forgive Uther for what he did. And I'm not angry that he's...gone."

Arthur's very much taken aback at that. He knows everyone has... strong opinions on Uther, but they've never voiced it in front of him.

"Why?? I mean I know he put you in the stocks a couple of times, but so have I to be fair. Why do you hate him so much?"

(This is the point Merlin gets angry. Or angrier. This is when he stops trying to hide it, stops trying to hold it in. Arthur hadn't gotten angry at Merlin for talking about Uther in such a way, he was just curious. Merlin had been planning on telling him the truth at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now, with no one else around, and Arthur in a goodish mood.)

Merlin jumps up, clenching his fists and staring Arthur in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, breathing deeply.

Arthur is taken even further aback at Merlin's sudden unwillingness to hide his true reaction to the topic at hand, but he doesn't say anything, and just waits for Merlin’s response

"Why?? Why do I hate him? Maybe because he was blinded fear and selfish hatred."

Merlin stops and looks away, but doesn't sit down, still tense.

I imagine he's waiting for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t, opting to wait for Merlin to carry on himself, unwilling to remind Merlin exactly who he was talking to, and about what.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin continues, getting angrier with each word as he paces:

"Your father, the Great King Uther, murdered thousands of people. He committed genocide, because he insisted on blaming other people for his own mistakes. He didn't pay attention to the fine print, and killed his own wife and in return, he executes THOUSANDS of MY people. Just for daring to exist. He was so full of hatred, but he, of course, was infallible so it MUST have been someone else's fault. He was incapable of admitting his own mistakes and the injustice that went unpunished is indescribable, he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and I'll never forgive him."

(Arthur knows the truth about what happened to his Ma in this story, I don’t know how, he just does. And it's a topic of conversation he avoids like the plague.)

At the end of his little outburst, Merlin stills. He is shaking as he glares at the floor, and is more furious than Arthur has ever seen him before.

The King notices the little slip up.

"Your people?" He says, so quietly it's a wonder Merlin hears it.

Merlin freezes at this, at the realisation that there's no real way he can play this off. He was planning on telling him at some point anyway. They're miles away from the city in the middle of a large, barely tamed forest. If he needs to run for his life, he could get away easily enough.

"Yes Arthur. My people. You really should've let me speak first."

Arthur is reminded of the fact that Merlin had opened his mouth to say something, before he'd interrupted him at the beginning of the conversation. It felt like it was hours ago now, but it was really only a few minutes.

The King isn’t nearly as shocked as he thinks he should be. He knew there was something odd and secretive about Merlin, and he'd considered that he might have magic in the early days, but that hadn't been a genuine consideration for years.

He wants to be angry, and selfish, and furious at Merlin for lying to him all this time. But after hearing Merlin’s little speech, does he really have any right to? 

Yes, Arthur hadn't executed any sorcerers, but he also hadn't changed the law. He hadn't stood up to his father and he certainly hadn't tried to stop the executions before he was King himself. Can he really blame Merlin? For being scared? For being angry?

"You're a sorcerer." It's not a question. It's a statement. In his mind he knows the truth, but it needs to be confirmed, out loud, by Merlin himself, before they can move the conversation on.

"Yes."

And that's all he says. Arthur waits. And when he's tired of waiting, when he realises that Merlin isn't just gonna carry on talking this time, he speaks up:

"And?"

"And what, Arthur? What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I lied? Yes, I feel bad for lying to you, but I'll never apologise for protecting myself in a kingdom that would see me burn. And I would do it again in a heartbeat"

Arthur nods. He's tense, but he notices that he isn't scared and he wonders why, after all, as far as he was aware magic had only (almost only) caused him pain and fear. 

(In the back of his mind he knows why he's not scared. Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body, and he's met the druids, he knows that some magic users are peaceful.)

He looks up at Merlin to see him staring at him, a sort of challenging look on his face, like he was daring Arthur to prove him right. Daring him to be selfish, and angry, and just like his father.

But when Arthur looks deeper. Really Looks at Merlin. He sees the fear, Arthur has no doubt in his mind that Merlin could escape, or even fight him off, now, if he needed to. But Merlin is scared.

If that wasn't enough to break Arthur's heart, the quick glance that Merlin throws to the space a few feet from Arthur's side, is.

Arthur looks over slowly, eyebrows furrowed, to see what Merlin glanced at so fearfully. His heart shatters when he realises what it is. Arthurs sword, sat underneath his bag, just out of his reach. Merlin thinks Arthur is going to kill him. Merlin is scared. Of Arthur.

Arthur looks back at Merlin, disbelief and gut wrenching sadness on his face. He resists the urge to jump up (knowing it would just panic Merlin) as he speaks, trying to keep his tone calming, but it comes out rushed and desperate anyway:

"I'm not going to hurt you Merlin, I swear. I'm...sorry, if my actions and words have led you to believe that I would EVER see any harm come to you."

It's over the last minute, the anger and fear from Merlin, that forces Arthur to realise the legacy he's dealing with. That Uther had done so much damage, had struck so much fear into Merlin, that it didn't matter how close they were. Any subtle, deliberate ignorance of the law wasn’t enough. Any small compliments, or defence of Merlin, wasn't enough.

As long as the law remained, as long as Arthur left his fathers legacy intact, with not even a small attempt to dismantle it, Merlin would be scared of him.

Merlin relaxes only slightly at Arthur's words, gulps, and glances once more at the sword before sitting down again. He’s still tense as he stares into the fire once more.

"All these years you've been putting your life at risk, to stay at my side. You could've quit at any time. You could've stayed in the relative safety of Ealdor, but you didn't. Why? I want to know everything Merlin. You... you mean a great deal to me, and it pains me to see you in fear. And I know it's no one’s fault but my own, and I want to fix it. So the whole story, from the beginning, I want to know."

It's Merlin’s turn to be taken aback now. In his mind, everything he's said and done in the last few minutes should be making Arthur angry. The disrespect of Uther, the tone of voice he had taken, the shouting. All of that even before the admittance of his greatest secret. But still Arthur wasn't angry, he was confused, and maybe hadn't quite processed it yet, but mostly he was just sad, sad that Merlin had to be angry on his own. Sad that Merlin had to be fearful on his own.

So he does. He starts at the beginning. His mother sending him to Camelot so Gaius could train him. Saving Arthurs life that first banquet. Saving his life again a few days later. And again. And again. And again

He talks about all the small insignificant magicks he did: cheating at dice games and keeping Arthur's bath water warm and making sure the fire stays lit through the night and helping the knights sleep when they're out and about.

He talks about all the big magicks he did: killing Nimueh and being the last Dragon-Lord and Balinor being his father, and all the great battles he had won and all the times he'd saved Arthur when Arthur hadn't even realised he'd been in danger.

He talks about everything in between. About every lucky fallen branch and every lucky rockslide and every lucky solution that wouldn't have worked without Merlin... nudging it in the right direction.

He talks and talks and talks until his throat is sore. And Arthur stays silent, unwilling to interrupt, listening intently and saving any questions and queries until the end.

After an hour or so, Merlin hesitates, but Arthur can tell that there's something else. Something he's not saying. Something that in Merlin's mind, is the scariest truth of all. So he stays silent, and waits for Merlin to continue:

"The old man that you think killed your father. Dragoon, the sorcerer who kept popping up but was never in the same room as me? That was me, in disguise."

He looks nervous at this and looks up at Arthur. Before, he'd been explaining everything with a blank but resolute look on his face, still staring into the fire (that hadn't been fed in well over an hour, but was still going strong).

Arthur just looks surprised, he'd never considered that Dragoon had been anyone but himself.

"I tried Arthur. I may have hated your father but I tried to save him. But the pendant around his neck stopped it from working and healing magic has never been my strong point anyway. I really did try."

Arthur nods at this. He figured there had been no reason for the old sorcerer to kill his father, and after consulting Gaius and realising the truth about the pendant, he didn't blame him. Though he never told anyone, not even Merlin, why would he? His manservant had never even met the guy.

"I know. I'm sorry, it can’t have been easy, thinking I blamed you for his death all these months. I'm sorry Merlin."

Merlin looks surprised but quietly grateful. Over the course of the last hour of explanation he had slowly become more and more relaxed, realising that Arthur really meant it when he said he wasn't going to hurt him, and just wanted the truth.

Merlin was still scared, and a big part of him still believed he'd probably be banished at the least at the end of this conversation. But it still felt good to get it off his chest.

"But you still haven't answered my question. Why? We didn't know each all that well those first few weeks. Months even. We practically hated each other at the beginning. But you stayed anyway. Despite hating me and despite being in constant danger. Why?"

Merlin once again hesitates at this. He tried his best but even after all these years, he's not quite sure how to navigate conversations about destiny, especially his own, and especially how it's tied so intrinsically with Arthur’s.

Instead he says:

"What do you know about Emrys?" He really needs a starting reference for this part of the conversation, and at this point, the best way to get it is to ask directly.

Arthur goes to question why, but Merlin has been nothing but honest and straight forward with him, so he trusts that it’s important, and answers truthfully:

"Not much. A few Druids have mentioned him to me before. Apparently they've been seeing him in prophetic dreams for centuries, the Druids have quite a few "seers" in their ranks. He's meant to be some great sorcerer, whose destiny it is to bring Magic and peace to Albion, with some King or other at his side. I never payed much attention to it, I hardly believe in visions of the future."

Merlin nods at that:

"You've got most of it. Emrys is meant to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present, and future. When Uther started culling sorcerers, an astronomical amount of magic was poured back into the earth all at once. The Triple Goddess took that magic and put it all in one place, in one unborn baby, in the hope that said baby would grow into his power, and restore balance and compassion to the world. The Druids call him Emrys but it's just a title, like King, or Sir, not his real name. He, and the Once and Future King, are meant to rule with the support of one another, uniting all of Albion under the King’s rule, and bringing magic back into the land. Emrys and the Forever King, two sides of the same coin, their destinies interwoven."

Merlin goes silent at that, and Arthur thinks he knows where this is going, but he Needs the confirmation:

"What's that got to do with anything?" is quietly muttered.

"You're the Forever King Arthur. And I am Emrys. Though it's weird enough when the druids call me that so just... let's stick with Merlin alright?"

"All those times you said I would be a great King, all those times you had unfailing faith in me, was because of destiny?"

Arthur tries not so sound hurt, but he’s never cared for, or believed, in destiny. Up until now he'd thought Merlin had had faith in him as Arthur, his friend, not as some prophetic Once and Future King that Arthur was afraid he would never be.

"At first, sure. I was angry, that my destiny had been decided for me. That I couldn't just ignore it because if I did then the world would never know peace. I never asked for that responsibility I just wanted... I just wanted to keep my mother safe. I wanted to learn how to be a physician and use my magic to help and entertain and brighten the world. Just a little bit. And suddenly I had this big important role to play. I hated it. But I did it anyway, kept you safe. And then I got to know you as a person and you weren't your father. You Love Camelot, you Love your people, you're a good man who does everything in his power to help those around him, even if they don't deserve it sometimes. And suddenly, having my destiny be to help you to greatness... well, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe it was your destiny to be that Great King from prophecy, because you were already a good man."

Arthur is speechless at that. Tears gather in his eyes but neither of them mention it and he doesn't let them fall. Merlin had been almost as nice as that in the past, but never so fully, and with the weight of the truth behind it, it seemed much more meaningful.

Merlin gives him a sad smile before he continues:

"I'm your servant until the day I die Arthur. I have faith that one day, you'll do the right thing."

Arthur suddenly remember the whole point of this conversation. That Merlin was upset and angry that he hadn't repealed the ban on magic yet, that Merlin was still waiting on him. Waiting on him to do the right thing. Waiting on him to fulfil his destiny.

~

Maybe they head straight home? Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers the next morning to find him already up and pacing, making a start on the repeal?

Maybe Arthur demands they go to the closest Druid settlement so he can consult them on how he should go about it? Merlin’s knowledge of magic is great and all, but neither of them were alive before the purge, neither know how it would work practically.

All I know, is whenever Merlin first comes across Arthur working on the repeal, determination in his eyes, he cries a little. That everything he sacrificed is finally paying off.

I also know, that the first time Arthur timidly asks Merlin to show him something magical (maybe that's straight after this tiring conversation, or maybe its days later, back in the safety of Arthur's locked chambers) Merlin cries even harder, Arthur is still scared of magic, how could he not be. But he loves and trusts Merlin more than anything in this world, and he wants to learn to not be scared anymore.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED!!

All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know✌

[epickiya722]

You know what, I do have some thoughts about my fic "Beware of the Bunnies" and related. It may become a long post since I'm writing on feelings and flow here, so I'll just cut it here.

Or just ignore the post.

I'll be honest, BotB is one of my favorite fics I have written and completed. But it's one of the fics that I'm surprised actually been read. I'm still surprised to see "You Got Kudos!" and see that this fic gets them almost every day. It's almost at 700 kudos. I thought it would just be reaching 100 at this time.

Why?

It's not because I think the writing sucks. Not the best writing, but it's the best writing for me for what it is.

BotB is a comedy, a fic that plays on the relationship (IN A PLATONIC WAY) between two of my favorite BNHA characters Miruko and Midoriya. I wrote on whim, just bouncing off the idea of "What if Midoriya did his Work Studies with Miruko".

It was nothing serious, just a fun fic. I just wanted a fun fic where Deku got Miruko as his mentor and it wasn't because of some drama, angst plot point or whatever. So imagine my surprise when I got so many positive comments before even reaching the third chapter. I really did think that fic wouldn't get comments at all or kudos.

Around the time I started writing BotB, I noticed that most fics that do get a lot of attention are fics that involve explicit content, romance, angst, all that stuff. Before anyone comes after me (and I'm sure some ass hat will ignore this bit, it has happen before), I find nothing wrong with any of that stuff. You like what you like.

It's just with BotB, I don't have any major angst, drama, romance, none of that.

It is not a serious fic AT ALL. It's "crack treated seriously" at best. Who really cares nowadays to read something that is fun and not angsty and lacks romance?

Also characters. I chose to write a fic about Midoriya and Miruko being the main characters. I figured another reason why BotB even got touched is because I included other characters. Example, I'm sure a Hawks fan pressed on the fic just to read about Hawks. I'm not trying to sound salty here.

Be honest, though. Most fics that center around less popular (especially female) characters, platonic relationships, and rarepairs don't get touched as much as the other fics that do in this fandom. Miruko has 4000+ fics under her tag. Hawks though? 20000+.

Miruko may have gotten a growing fanbase (a guess), but be honest. If someone asked you to name a BNHA character, she's not the first character to come to your mind, is she?

Note: there's a little ship bashing in this next part, so if you happened to like Miruko being shipped with Midoriya, skedaddle and never return.

On top of that, the relationship. Now I wrote about the Miruko & Deku thing so long ago, but to reiterate... there are a lot more romantic Miruko & Midoriya fics than there is platonic. I HATE that ship like you wouldn't believe. It irks me thinking about it because when I wrote that fic, a lot of readers understood that the Miruko was just being a big sis (or mom figure some saw her as) to Midoriya. I only had one reader to comment if it was going to be a smut and I truly wanted to reach through my screen and grab them.

There is little less 150 fics involving the Miruko & Midoriya tag currently compared to the 200+ "/" tags for them. For goodness sakes, that tag is bigger than Shigaraki/Miruko and at least those two are adults!

So yeah, I was annoyed that that reader had the fucking nerve to ask. If I was going to write smut, I would have. If I was going to write romance. I know how to use tags, damn it. And if I was going to write something like that between them, I would have. But I hate that ship, I hate just how many fics exist of it, I hate someone even asked...

But I digress.

Writing and finishing BotB made me realize just how much I love writing Miruko fics where she isn't always this "always fighting", aggressive woman without the need to sexualize her or pair her WITH A MINOR.

It's the start. I don't think there is a lot of fics that explore Miruko as a person. We don't know much about her backstory except for Vigilantes, but I don't think a lot of people take the time to explore and make up more fan content for her be it a fanfic or art.

I really enjoy writing Miruko being Rumi. A woman who isn't always in a fighting mode. Someone who likes to laugh, watch her favorite shows, maybe go off the idea that she does have a pet rabbit. Relationship wise, I like her writing her interacting with other characters that isn't Fuyumi, Shigaraki and Hawks. (Again, nothing wrong with those characters. I swear, say anything I will block you)

That's why my other fic "There's Miruko, There's Rumi" exists. I wanted a fic where Miruko isn't always her hero persona. She's Rumi who is a human being with feelings, family and friends.

When people complain about the lack of content for their favorite characters and/or the specific content they want to see, I don't think they realize they can create that content themselves.

I wanted more wholesome Miruko content, guess what? I fucking wrote it. And I love doing it.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Wild at Heart

A sort of sequel to Clary the Vampire Slayer

Read on AO3

“I don’t know Clary. He’s been avoiding me. What if he’s just not interested? Maybe I came on too strong,” Magnus says tapping the blow pop he stole from the principal’s office against his lips.

“No way,” Clary says slipping her sunglasses back onto her head and hopping up onto a nearby bench in the corridor. “That boy looks at you hung the moon when you aren’t paying attention. He’s definitely interested, maybe he’s just a little nervous or something.”

Magnus hums in thought. “I guess I am pretty fabulous and have the special ability to make all the pretty boys nervous. I’m all caught up on my homework, maybe I should just go pay him a visit tonight.”

“Exactly,” Clary says with a bright smile. She reaches out snatching the blow pop from Magnus and popping it into her mouth.

He looks at her offended, but let’s her have it. No one probably ever would have guessed that the big bad Vampire Slayer has such a sweet tooth.

“Anyways, speaking of the moon. Have there been any leads on the werewolf, it’s the last night of the moon isn’t it?” he asks hopping up on the bench next to her.

She nods. “Luke thinks there’s two. Maia and I are having a little stakeout up on Lover’s Lane in the hopes it’ll come back.”

“Oh you kids are calling that a stakeout nowadays huh?” Magnus teases.

“Hush,” Clary says shoving at his shoulder playfully. “We really are just staking out, that’s where the wolf was last seen and we can’t wait till next month. Whoever this person is might not even know what’s happened to them and they haven’t hurt anyone yet and hopefully we can keep it that way.”

Magnus nods in understanding kicking his feet out from the table. “But you’re gonna make out a little right?”

Clary chuckles. “Not as much as you will be when you go talk to Alec tonight,” she says bopping him on the nose with the stolen blow pop.

Magnus scrunches his nose at the action and wipes his nose clean, hoping so very much that Clary is right.

***

“Hey, Uncle Hodge,” Alec says pacing the length of the living room the phone pressed up between his cheek and shoulder. “No everything’s fine. I, um, I just had a quick question. Is cousin Jordy a werewolf?”

He blurts out it out. There’s no time for being delicate about this. He woke up naked in the woods this morning and night is getting closer and closer and he needs a little confirmation. He’d been playing with Jordy a few weeks ago and one tiny accidental baby bite may have turned him into the werewolf his friends are currently hunting.

“Uh, huh,” Alec says stopping his pacing at Hodge’s confirmation. “And how long has that been going on?” Alec rubs his head in frustration as Hodge explains the tiny little dog bite that turned out to be something much more. He listens in halves, nodding his head and saying his goodbyes.

“Well, shit,” he says once he’s hung up tossing the phone onto the coffee table. He heads into the dining room, the chains he bought with only a few seriously questionable eyes on him at the local hardware store strewn about. He’s not totally certain how he’s going to do this, but the sun is nearly down and he has to sort something out. Thankfully the rest of his family is out of town for the day visiting his grandmother who Alec can’t stand.

Three days ago he was just a teenager who recently learned that his hometown is filled with monsters. It made sense, too much weird stuff happened here. Three days ago he was looking at the vast suddenly possible impossibility that he was going to have a boyfriend. And not just any boyfriend but the kind of guy who he couldn’t even dream up if he tried to.

The doorbell rings knocking him out of deep thought. He ignores it hoping whoever it is will go away. They don’t, they’re pretty persistent actually the doorbell ringing again and again. He pulls it open frustrated, hoping he can get rid of whoever it is fast.

Expect when he sees who it is his whole brain screams at him that getting rid of this person is the last thing he wants to do.

“Magnus,” he says a little breathless a smile automatically stretching across his face.

“Hi, we need to talk,” he says brushing in the door past Alec. He stops in the living room pacing a bit, thankfully not going far enough to notice the chains.

“So, here’s the thing we enjoy each other’s company right?” Magnus says. Alec just nods his head. “Good. Good, I thought so. We’ve gone out on like three dates now and you came to my best friend’s admittedly weird surprise birthday party and helped us heist a bazooka which feels like you’re very into me because who helps with a heist if they’re not interested.” He takes a deep breath soldiering on. “But I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

“Magnus I’m not avoiding you,” he says which is kind of a lie. He has been a bit first because he was afraid of whatever was happening to him and then so scared that he could hurt Magnus with this newfound werewolf situation.

“You are, whether it’s intentional or not you are,” Magnus replies wringing his hands a bit. “And I get it. It’s a lot. You were just going on dates with a gorgeous guy with a high g.p.a and now I’m a witch in training who’s best friend is a vampire slayer cause vampires are real and the librarian is a watcher. It’s a lot I know.”

He paces away from Alec heading towards the dining room. Alec’s eyes go wide chasing after him when a sudden pain lurches through his stomach.

“But I think we have something pretty potentially incredible here and I’m not just gonna stand by and let you avoid me and it slip away so you can spend your Friday night’s,” Magnus freezes staring at the dining room table. Another pain lurches through Alec. “Playing with chains. Why are you playing with chains?”

He turns to Alec just as another massive pain lurches his whole body tossing him to the ground. “Magnus you have to go,” he growls out. Really truly growls, his voice practically gone as he keeps his eyes on the ground. His fingers give way to claws.

“Alexander,” he says worry in his voice as he nears him.

Alec’s head whips up then forcing himself to keep his claws buried into the hardwood floor. “Magnus, go!” he yells sharp teeth piercing through his gums.

Magnus’ eyes go wide and he takes off to the front door as the wild takes over for Alec. The last thing he remembers is screaming at the wolf inside of him to leave Magnus alone.

***

Magnus takes off fast. He’s never been more grateful for his years on the track team than he is now. Alec is the werewolf they’ve been looking for. He runs a little aimlessly at first the pounding steps of a wolf that’s no longer any bit human not far behind him till he detours heading for the school hoping that Clary is still there prepping to head out for the night.

Luckily Alec’s house isn’t far from the school so in minutes he’s busting through the main doors swerving through every hall heading for the library.

“Clary! Maia! Luke!” he shouts hoping that one of them hears. Luckily Clary may not have super hearing but she’s acutely attuned to her surroundings and comes busting down the hall Magnus’ way.

“Werewolf,” he says slightly out of breath coming to a stop. He knows Alec’s not far behind. “Alec.”

“The werewolf attacked Alec?” Clary says looking incredibly forlorn.

Magnus shakes his head rapidly, grabbing her arm and tugging her quickly back to the library.

“No, Alec is the werewolf,” he announces when they bust into the library. Maia and Luke are standing there tranquilizer guns in hand. Clary takes the one from Luke’s hand. “He wasn’t far behind me. He’s definitely in the building.”

He follows Clary grabbing a tranq gun for himself. He doesn’t really want to shoot his would be boyfriend, but it’s for both their benefits in this case. Maia and Luke creep behind, Clary making a gesture over her shoulder signaling for the two of them to go right.

Wolf Alec rounds the corner heading right their way. Clary raises her gun shooting twice, but he dodges both hits. He lunges at them tackling Clary to the ground.

“Magnus,” she shouts struggling with the wolf. “Shoot him!”

Magnus makes a disagreeable noise easing closer, the gun readied. He really hoped Clary would be the one to do this.

Clary throws a punch at the wolf’s neck and Magnus winces. “Careful Clary it’s still Alec,” he says aiming the gun.

“Then. Shoot. Him.” Clary grits out pointing each word. So Magnus does it firing three quick successive shots that hit Alec right in the side. He goes limp in Clary’s arms finally stopping his struggle. Clary lets out a long sigh pushing Alec off to the side.

“Well I think we know why he’s been acting weird,” she says out of breath lying starfish on the floor.

“Yeah,” Magnus sighs resting the gun on the floor and crouching down he reaches out a hand brushing his fingers through Alec’s fur. He’s ten times larger than a regular wolf, with dark, dark fur just like Alec’s gorgeous fluffy hair.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Magnus whispers brushing his fingers down the thick soft fur at Alec’s side. “We’re gonna be okay.”

***

Alec wakes up naked, again. This time he’s surrounded by books. He groans squinting at his surroundings. To his left he hears the sound of a chair scraping.

“There’s clothes on the filing cabinet,” a voice he thinks he’ll truly never tire of hearing says. His eyes meet Magnus’ through the metal fencing of the library cage where Luke keeps the more sensitive demon related books.

Magnus smiles at him once then twists around giving Alec his privacy. He dresses quickly in some generic school colors sweatpants, t-shirt and shoes before reaching for the door that’s still locked.

“Um,” he says and Magnus turns back around quickly digging into his pockets. He walks over unlocking the cage and stepping back a bit. Alec hesitates scared that Magnus is afraid of him.

It’s the quietest it’s possibly ever been in the library which is ironic considering it’s a library. Eventually Alec can’t take the silence anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sigh rubbing at the back of his neck. He hits a tender spot on the left side of his neck and winces dropping his hand. “I should have told you. It’s just I didn’t know at first and then I did and I just-“

Magnus holds up a hand stopping his ramble. “It’s okay, you were scared. These past few weeks have been a real supernatural info dump for you.”

“Still,” Alec says instinct almost bringing his hand back to his neck before remembering the pain in one side. “I am sorry I avoided you. I uh, I kind of lost the plot of what you were saying last night once the terrible lancing pain started cause I was transforming into a wolf, but I do like you a lot and I didn’t mean to avoid you. I was just uh, turning into a giant dog and waking up naked in the woods and it kinda threw me.”

Magnus laughs at that biting his lip a bit and stepping a little closer to Alec. “That would make for a rough few days,” he says still laughing a bit. “So since you’re not avoiding me, I know you’re probably pretty tired, but maybe we could go to the Bronze tonight?”

Alec knows the smile on his lips is goofy as hell. He has a lot to figure out about his new status and he’s sure Luke will have a comprehensive information package ready for him by first bell Monday morning, but right now all that matters is that the guy he’s fairly certain will be his boyfriend before the night is over isn’t afraid of him or mad at him and wants to go out again. A werewolf could have it way worse.

“I’d love that,” he says. Magnus smiles in return pausing for a second before breaching the bit of distance between them. He grips Alec’s hips tight and leans up kissing him on the lips. It’s just a quick press of lips, but it’s warm and soft and tastes a little bit like strawberries.

Magnus presses a second quick kiss and steps back heading for the swinging library doors leaving Alec standing there with his hands midair stunned into happiness.

“Oh, um Clary punched you in the neck so you might want to ice that,” Magnus says turning back for a second. “Oh, and I shot you in the side with three tranqs so ice that too,” he says turning around again. He pushes open the door before turning one last time. “I’ll see you eight, Alexander.”

He tosses a wave at Alec winking one eyelinered eye before finally walking out the door.

He’s gone by the time Alec thinks to respond just standing there waving at the spot Magnus is no longer in. He moves his hand pressing it to his lips for a second with a still no doubt goofy smile.

“A werewolf in love,” he whispers to himself shaking his head, happier than he’s maybe ever been.

[wangshuus]

no love left | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: diluc ragnvindr/gn. reader

genre: angst

wc: 3.2k

cw: mild cussing, brief mentions of violence, probably lore breaking too lol. 

summary: falling out of love is painful but maybe it’s what you needed.

note: please read the authors note after the story ESPECIALLY if you’re confused because i’ve implemented a few odd aspects into this story. i was just typing out whatever so essentially it’s more word vomit (again lol) but uhh yeah. most of the important stuff is at the bottom so like i said before, read that authors note at the end!!

lightly proofread, please don’t mind any errors

fic below the cut.

When the esteemed bachelor Diluc Ragnvindr finally settled down with a lover, the news did not fail to spread across Mondstadt like a wildfire. It was the talk of town for who knows how long but as time passed, the people settled down and the buzz eventually died but no one ever failed to acknowledge the young Ragnvindr and his beloved when they were together. Although the two preferred to keep a composed look to the public eye, the admiration they held for each other burned as bright as a summers day in their eyes at all times when they were together; from that alone, anyone could tell they were in love

So where did it all go wrong?

You sat across from Diluc at a table in the winery, the air thick with a suffocating tension that felt like it was going to swallow you whole at any minute now. Your hands rested on the table in front of you as you barely managed to keep your hands from trembling as a storm of emotions stirred inside of you as you felt your composure on the brink of cracking any second. You decided to finally break the silence as you spoke up, a slight tremble in your voice.

“What is it Diluc? Huh? I was hoping you’d have the decency to speak up about whatever the hell is going on instead of leaving me in the dark but it’s been far too long now. Now tell me Diluc, what’s going on?”

Oh the way your words slipped from your mouth made the room feel so cold, even if you didn’t wield a vision of any sorts. Diluc took a deep breath before he decided to speak up.

“What went on between the two of us was purely business.” Was the simple statement he gave.

Was?

“They’ve shown themselves to be quite the individual, wielding good etiquette with both business and a weapon.” He spoke out once more.

“God sake Diluc you’re fucking stalling at this point. You know what, I’ll make it easier for you. Do you still love me?”

There was a pause. A long painful pause. You already had your answer.

“(Y/n), I still care for you more than you can ever imagine, I truly do.”

The words felt like knives piercing through your form and from that, you felt the first tear slip down your face.

“Diluc, are you even aware of how terrible I feel in this situation right now? I’m watching my lover from a far doing lord knows what and you expect me to just tolerate it? I trusted you enough which is why I never pried at it but fuck Diluc, it’s just unbearable at this point.”

“I never did act upon anything in fears of making the situation worse--” You cut him off.

“Making the situation worse huh? So you were out here trying to do some crowd control weren't you? Was if for the sake of not hurting me or or for the sake of not tainting your pristine reputation?”

“I said before, I really do care for you still.” His hand reached towards your own as he held your hand with utmost gentleness. You were almost convinced he still loved you as much as he did in the past.

“However, I can’t deny that our dynamic has indeed changed. I…” His grip on your hand tightened.

“I can’t lie to you and say that I love you the way I did before.”

There it was.

“You don’t look at me the way you used to, you know? Your eyes used to be so full of love whenever you looked at me but that look is reserved for someone else now, isn’t it? You’ve looked at me with nothing but sorrow and pity nowadays and I guess my assumptions of the worst were correct.” You said as your voice trembled even more.

You wanted to pull your hand away so badly, the hand that once brought you such warmth now felt as if it was searing your skin. But you couldn’t. Not when this was mostly likely the last time you’d ever feel such an intimate touch from him. You found yourself to be conflicted as to whether you wanted to pull away out of pure frustration or savour the moment as it could be the last of him you would ever get to have for yourself.

“(Y/n), from the bottom of my heart, I’m truly sorry. I’ve loved you for so long and you’ve given me more love than I could’ve ever imagined. I never wanted things to change but I suppose fate had other plans. I’ll never stop caring for you however, I’m afraid I’ve stopped loving you in the way you’re used to.”

The truthful words were ones that felt like hell to swallow. You didn’t want to believe it but you knew damn well he was telling the truth. The sincerity and softness in his voice made it so hard to be completely mad at him. He was so gentle with his words but the truth of them did nothing but make your heart hurt and ache. An empty chuckle left your lips as your features were now graced with a bittersweet smile.

“Ah, I think I would’ve appreciated it if you were meaner with your responses. Maybe then I wouldn’t have such a hard time letting you go.” You finally managed to look him in the eyes, his reflection showing on your glossy orbs.

He felt his own heart churn with remorse and guilt, seeing as he terribly hurt the one person that he had sworn to love and protect for the rest of his days. He felt sick over the fact he failed to keep part of the promise-- the part where he said that he would continue to love you.

That was one of the last times you had ever seen Diluc Ragnvindr.

--

Your body shook as the freezing temperatures of Dragonspine overtook your senses. You sat up against a rock, your back leaning onto it as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You were barely holding on by a thread as you physically felt numb. However, your mind swirled with a storm of emotions, almost as strong as the last day you had seen your ex-lover but this time, you reminisced on your time as you felt like this would be your final moments.

You pondered over the fact that this might’ve been the reason that he no longer loved you in the way you wished to be loved by him. You wanted his affections, you wanted his love, you wanted him. But you were too weak. That was it. He let you go for someone that was strong, so very strong; both mentally and physically. God, you couldn’t even compare to the likes of them, being nothing but a measly old adventurer, one that wasn’t even fortunate enough to wield a vision. You were nothing but weak in your own eyes; that's what brought you to your demise.

In your hands, you clutched one of the last treasures you had found in the cursed mountains. It was a pretty little collar that held a jewel that twinkled so beautifully despite the dull, hazy environment.

“You do not wish to be weak anymore do you, little one? Do not be afraid, put me on and I’ll grant you the desires you so wish to obtain. Abide by my rules and obtain for me the essence of life and together, we can make sure that everyone will hail before you.”

A voice echoed inside your head as your mind began to spiral. All morals, memories and feelings began to drown out until you were barely hanging on by thread.

“Hurry, time is of the essence! Quick!”

With little energy you had left, you were able to hang the new found possession around your neck. The second you let go of the clips that held the piece together, you felt a tight constriction around your neck, the feeling was suffocating. Just like the last time you had seen Diluc. For a moment, you thought of the red haired male you once held to dear and close to your heart. It ached for him once more in that very moment because he was the very essence of warmth and it was something that you so desired in such a moment like this. The way he held you against him in the coldest of nights in an attempt to keep you warm and oh how it worked wonderfully. It was a memory that slowly faded away with your conscience. Your hands graced themselves lightly around your neck as you struggled to breathe even more than before, your body finally running out of any sort of energy as you fell limp against the cold and soft snow.

Anything. From this point on, you would do anything to get stronger. You no longer cared for any mishaps that happened along the way. You had no love left, nothing but the hunger for power that drowned out the aching void that was now left behind after everything was torn away from you.

“Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me.”

Within the bustling harsh winds of the Dragonspine mountains laid a girl with a jewelled necklace as well as a cold, icy blue orb that shined brightly against the blizzards.

--

“The expedition out in Dragonspine was a complete disaster! The winds were harsher than usual and how could we predict such a nasty storm would’ve been upon us? We planned so far ahead and yet it ended up utterly terrible.” One of the adventurers commented as they were in the process of recovering after descending from the unforgiving mountains.

“Did everyone that went on the expedition come back? There’s absolutely no way we can risk going up there again, at least not for a while.” Another commented.

There was an excruciating silence within the camp.

“Has anyone seen (Y/n)?”

--

Diluc had set out once the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning came upon him. He continued to lurk from the shadows and deal with whatever trivial matters that had to be dealt with in the dead of night as he always did. He had heard of a few nuisances that arose near the outskirts of Dragonspine that hadn’t been dealt with yet. Of course the knights wouldn’t bother with this anyways, as per usual what he thought to himself.

Though the male held a pyro vision, the sharp and bitter cold of Dragonspine was something that never failed to make him uncomfortable.

He swiftly made his way to the location, being stealthy and fast with his movements in an attempt to get the job done faster to refrain from being caught. Once he had made his way to the destination, he remained hidden while he examined the area. In the far distance, he saw camps, hilichurl as well as Fatui camps that were not too far off. His face held a look of distaste as his eyes laid upon the familiar trademark symbol of the Snezhnayan organization.

Just as he was about to step out and deal with the hilichurl camp himself, a figure emerged from afar and into the camp. The movements of said person were agile, fast and swift, ice shards being directed in the direction of every living being on the camp. A blizzard stirred so fiercely upon the camp and as the barbaric bitter winds of the snow died down, there was almost nothing left of the camp that once stood there.

Not a single soul.

Diluc very cautiously moved closer to get a better look at the strange person that appeared before him. His eyes widened in disbelief as he started to make out the figure, his mind refusing to believe what he saw in front him, almost regretting letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“I wasn’t aware that you people are unable to take care of a measly little hilichurl camp. I specifically stated to clear the area before anything else and you couldn’t even follow instructions as simple as that, or perhaps I wasn’t clear enough with my statement?” An icy voice boomed out towards a trio of Fatui skirmishers.

That voice was all too familiar to Diluc. It was so familiar yet it sounded so different, so harsh, so cold. Yet, it was the voice that confirmed his unruly suspicions.

“Make up for your poor performance by getting the camps set up in a decent manner at the very least. I’d rather spare myself the trouble of punishing the likes of you people. You don’t wish to cross me any further, do you?” A cold, hard glare very evident on your fact that was directed to the three in front of you.

They frantically shook their heads, sputtering out a series apologies in an attempt to ease your annoyance.

“Make use of yourselves and set up immediately. By the time I come back to supervise the area, everything should be set up in a manner that is nothing less than perfect. If you wish to please me this time, do as you’re told this time. Now go.” You shook them off with a wave of a hand as they saw themselves away in an instant.

You took your time to avoid the now empty camp that rid itself of almost all remains. A hand placed itself atop the jewel that gracefully sat between your collarbones. The voices that swirled in your head chanting for more power and more life eventually died down as the constrictions of your beloved collar began to loosen, just enough so you could breathe. You let out a breathe that you had been holding before regaining your composure. You stood up straight with a proud stature before speaking out.

“I know you are there, may as well come forth voluntarily unless you want be to bring you out myself.”

Diluc’s blood ran cold when he realized that that you were most likely referring to him, baffled at how you were able to pick up on his own presence. He cautiously revealed himself and made his way a little closer to you. The second you laid eyes on the redhead, you felt like your world stopped for a second. The initial shock was replaced with amusement as the scene unfolded in front of you.

“And to think that last time we saw each other would be the last.” You said before bitterly chuckling.

Diluc took some time to muster up words and recover from his initial shock.

“You never came back from that mission. You were claimed to be dead by the guild the day after and yet here you are. The people mourned over you. I mourned for you. What has become of you, (Y/n)?” Diluc spoke out, pain and sadness laced within his tone.

“Ha, they mourned? As well as yourself? Don’t make me laugh Ragnvindr. Was your mourning perhaps an act in an attempt to keep up your reputation. Would not surprise me in the slightest if that were the case. I refuse to accept the pity of others, and I absolutely detest if it is empty and meaningless. Pity is for those who are weak and as far as I’m concerned--”

You stepped closer to Diluc before you continued.

“I’m not weak anymore.”

“(Y/n), you were never weak--” Diluc said before he was cut off.

“Bullshit Ragnvindr. Utter bullshit.” You harshly spat.

“I wasn’t able to handle myself before. I was nothing but weak. It was one of the reasons you fell out of love with me, was it not? You wanted a strong individual that could take care of themselves and you sure got one, but it wasn’t me at the time. Look now Ragnvindr, I am strong now.”

He took a better look at you as the realization of your position has begun to sink in.

“You... you’re…” In one of the rare times of his life, he was at a loss for words.

“Ah, Ah, Cat got your tongue? Poor boy can’t even muster up any words.” You chuckled mockingly.

“Fatui Harbinger, Ragnvindr. Number 12. Surely you’ve heard right?” You boldly stated.

Yes, he did hear. The Tsaritsa had taken another Harbinger under her wing yet the news and information of said Harbinger was extremely scarce and yet, No.12 stood right before Diluc.

No.12 was once his own beloved.

“What exactly led to all of this? What caused all of this to happen? What have you done to yourself?” The questions kept pouring out from Diluc’s mouth.

“It was quite simple. I got sick and tired of being weak and having things being taken from me. I have lost too many things to count and I have sacrificed many things to become who I am today. I do not regret a single thing I have done since I have started being selfish and being selfish has kept me from getting hurt again. I do not need you anymore, I do not need anyone in fact. I live for myself and to serve the needs of the Tsaritsa to repay her for giving me a chance to live the way I should’ve been all along.” You look at him with a taunting smirk on your face.

The (Y/n) (L/n) that was once known to be the beloved of Diluc Ragnvindr was dead. They died the moment you stepped out of the winery for the very last time. You were (Y/n), No.12 of the Fatui Harbingers. You were the one that sacrificed yourself to a curse upon the Dragonspine mountains in exchange for power to fill the void that was left behind. You no longer had the longing for love; you had none left after all. You craved for power and leverage over others and you refused to let people trample over you like they did before. You refused to be weak again. With the help of your new found vision as well as the curse that now burdened you, you would conquer the world and burn the old one away, along with your old self.

With no love left, there was nothing left to lose after all.

A/N: SOOOO the whole choker thing might be a little confusing but BASICALLY i took the whole concept from the “Love me, Love me, Love me.” song where the girl gets that cursed necklace/choker and i changed the concept around a little bit so that in exchange for power, dear reader has to basically slaughter things to keep the choker from killing them LOL (I’m tired pls my mind if SPIRIALING rn lmfao)

the italics in the second chunk are the weird choker speaking to the reader since it's a whole ‘curse’ thing and the bold italics in the second chunk is basically a quote from genshin from the cryo gemstone thingies and i used it to signify the reader getting a cryo vision^^ there’s a lot i wanna say but i’m too lazy to elaborate sorry lol. kinda feel like making more parts to this bc i feel like the story could go one but ehhh we’ll see how I’m feeling. i really just wanted to make a oneshot where the reader goes batshit after so ahahahahhaha. (also this fic feels lore breaking as fuck but its ok LMAO)

[kuromochimi]

Suna x Reader:

With you

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff :3

a/n: I’ve been seeing a lot of suna angst so here’s a little high school cliche fluff~ also, this isn’t proof read so forgive me if there are any grammatical errors and stuff

(Ending is kinda vague, leaving it up to your imagination; but if you want a part 2, please let me know!)

It was the season for the third years to finally graduate high school. Always a bittersweet moment. Seeing them reach higher dreams but having to leave their respective high school teams.

“Akagi-san, you’re finally graduating! Congratulations!!” You cheer for the libero

“But man, I’m going to miss walking home with you and suna here. Oi suna, you better not stop walking y/n home after I graduate”

“I live a block away from y/n, of course I’d have to walk her home”

After club activities, you would usually walk home with inarizaki’s libero, akagi, and middle blocker suna since your houses are only a few blocks away from each other. But even then, you never spoke much with suna. It was usually akagi who carried the conversations. Suna was more on the reserved side. You only hear him talking to the team, making fun of the miya twins, or thanking you for handing him drinking bottles or towels after practice.

“Alright, I guess I’m taking my leave here. Thank you for being with the team all this time!” Akagi bows to you and suna and eventually walks towards his house’s porch.

As usual, after the libero leaves, you and suna end up walking with just you two. Quiet. Small talks. You never really knew how to approach him much. You were on the same team and even belonged to the same class.

“Do you want me to walk you all the way home today?”

“No no, I’ll be fine, suna. Thank you!” You give him a smile, wave a small goodbye and run off to your house

Ever since your third year of high school started, you haven’t had much chances to attend practices or even come home early. You were so busy with academic work and group tasks that extra curricular activities almost came to a halt for you. You even considered leaving as the volleyball team’s manager because you felt like you weren’t being of much use to them but they said that they understood you and that they could manage while you were busy for a while.

Before attending your meeting for a paper due in a week, you stopped by the gym to apologize and to wish everyone good luck before practice started.

“Hey, y/n, I saw you walking home alone yesterday but I couldn’t call out to you because I was on the bus. That was pretty late too. Watch out alright? There are a lot of pervs out there you know”

“Sure will, samu! Thank you for your concern. I’m off to my classmate’s house to meet for our paper. Have a good practice!”

The hours passed by so quickly while you were working hard to finish your parts for the project that you didn’t notice it was a few minutes past 9pm already.

“Crap, kazunari, I think we should wrap up soon. It’s getting late and we all have to walk home still.”

“Sure thing. We’re almost finished anyway. Stay safe out there!”

The moment you stepped out of your classmate’s house, you made a mental note of samu’s warning. You started thinking about running home since it wasn’t too far anyway. Your thoughts resulted in you walking aimlessly. You were snapped out of your thoughts after you bumoed into someone.

“What are you doing spacing out while walking alone at night. Would it kill you to be more careful?”

Slowly looking up, you recognize immediately who was talking

“Suna? What are you doing here?”

“I was at the convenience store and I saw you walking around all spaced out like that. Idiot”

This was probably the longest conversation you’ve had with him. And it sinks in that he just called you an idiot.

“IDIOT?!”

“Calm down, manager. I’m just saying it’s not safe nowadays.”

“I know” you reply in a barely whispering sort of way

“Let’s go” he says as he walks towards the direction of your home

Not long after that, your schedule gradually started loosening up. You had the time to attend practice at least 3 times a week and on weekends, you had time to spare. Walking home with suna happened more often too. Even on days when you didn’t attend practice and you were at a cafe or another classmate’s place, you would somehow bump into him at some point and just end up going homr together. Perhaps akagi not being around really pushed you to be more talkative, trying to carry out the conversations. Surprisingly enough, suna seemed to be trying his best too. A year ago, he would only let out little laughs or scoffs, not saying much but now that it was just you two most of the time, he spoke a lot more than he used to.

“Hey rintaro, would you mind teaching me yesterday’s math lesson. I kinda don’t understand it. Can we go after practice?”

“Rintaro? Brave of you to call me by my first name, y/n”

It was then that you realized you slipped up. You didn’t mean to call him by his first name. You just felt so casual with him that you suddenly called him rintaro without knowing it yourself.

“Oh, uhm I’m- I didn’t mean to- I mean I just-“

“Stop stuttering. It’s fine. Call me rintaro. And no I’m not teaching you. Not for free that is”

“What do you want in return then?”

“One week’s worth of snacks.”

“Deal”

From then on, you two started getting closer. Sitting together in class, chatting more during practice breaks, sharing more thoughts while walking home, and before you could notice it, you were spending more than half the time at school with him. Even lunch breaks when you used to jump from table to table trying to catch up with your many casual friends, those breaks were now spent with suna... supposedly getting tutored by him but in reality, you two just bicker and joke around the entire time.

“Hey suna, you like y/n?”

“Ha? Where did that even come from miya”

“You two are so inseparable. Stop denying” the blonde twin pesters suna while practicing spikes on a wall

“Me and akagi-san used to walk home with her. When senpai graduated, of course I had no choice but to socialize a little, you know.”

“That’s far from ‘just a little’ though. You guys are joint at the fucking hip. Haven’t you noticed that the boys who used to swoon around y/n have already stopped. They’re scared of you”

“That’s not my problem now is it? If they really liked her then they wouldn’t have chickened out just because of me. Especially when she’s not even my girlfriend.”

“How about you? Are you chickening out?”

“Shut up other miya. You can go for her for all I care.”

“I really won’t mind dating samu here then”

Suna’s eyes grow wide as he realizes it was you who said that and that you might have heard their conversation.

“What do you say samu? Would you go for me?”

You and the twins burst into laughter for some reason and suna murmurs that it isn’t even funny, and practice goes on as usual.

Walking home, it was a little more quiet than usual. You wonder whether the events that occured a few hours ago had something to do with the current mood.

“You know rin, I only joked like that because I didn’t like how you’re just telling other guys to ‘go for me’. I don’t want any guy’s attention right now. I’m too busy for that.”

“Do you know how annoying it is when people ask me if you’re single and when I say you are, they end up pestering me to set them up with you. Even people I barely even know ask me like that. I’m not even approachable. Just get a boyfriend already so they’d stop.”

“Oh.. I actually thought that they stopped already. I didn’t know that they ended up coming to you first. You’re like... my body guard” you smile at him at pat his head like you’re telling him how good he’s been for you

“I’m not your body guard, y/n. Besides, we’re in our third year already. Don’t you want to have someone? A little experience won’t hurt”

“I can say the same about you. You don’t have a girlfriend don’t you?”

“No I don’t. Would you like to occupy that position?”

“What?”

“What?” Suna repeats

“What- suna what did you just say?”

“Nothing air head. Come on, let’s go home”

He pats your head and walks toward the direction leading to your street.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

-

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

[skzsauce01]

Ruin My Life

Synopsis: Six times you and Minho “ruin” each other’s lives, and the one time you almost actually did ruin his. 

Warning: none

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: fem!reader x Lee Minho; friends to lovers

one

Minho always looks like trouble, but he especially looks the part when he dresses as a greaser for Halloween. The entire hallway looks his way when he enters the building even though the low 7:30 AM sunlight blinds their eyes when he opens the door. He has a lollipop in his mouth in place of a cigarette, and when he gives a curt “Good morning” nod in your direction, the girl beside you pretends to swoon.

“Hello, Danny,” she mutters to herself, mimicking an Australian twang. She’s conveniently dressed like Sandy in a poodle skirt and cardigan. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

When you tell Minho about what you heard after school, he laughs so hard he almost falls off the wall he’s sitting on. “Seriously?”

You take a bag of pretzels from the shared pile of treats between you two and rip it open. “Yes! I can give you her name if you’re interested,” you say, half-hoping that he doesn’t actually want it. “What a weird thing to say though.”

He shakes his head and holds his hand out for a pretzel. “No thanks to the name. I think Chan’s supposed to be Danny, so I’m not her summer fling that don’t mean a thing.” He waits for you to drop three in his open palm and, with complete mockery, says, “But I’d let you ruin my life.”

You shoot him a disgusted look, and he laughs.

“Aren’t you glad I made you watch Grease?” you transition. “So who are you? A T-bird? Someone from The Outsiders? Just a generic greaser?”

“Generic greaser, I guess. What are you?”

You point at the pointy, black hat perched on your head and say in disbelief, “I’m a witch!”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know you have just walked into a trap. “No, I meant your Halloween costume.”

“Get bent, you jerk,” you roll your eyes.

However, the pretzel you throw at him doesn’t stop him from chortling at his own joke.

two

You agree to feed Minho’s three cats the following weekend while he and his family have a last-minute emergency out of town. You show up to his doorstep on a late Thursday afternoon to say your regards, but everyone in the Lee household is in pandemonium. You slink past his mother to Minho’s room where Soonie and Dori are lying on his bed. Minho himself is packing a duffel bag.

You knock on his already open door to alert him of your presence. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, looking up. “Sorry about this. I would have asked someone who lived closer, but my mom doesn’t trust anyone else with the house key.”

“It’s okay. I like playing with Dori.” You’re still standing at the threshold, feeling too shy to enter now that you’re both older, and you crane your neck to see farther inside. “Where’s Doongie?”

“Under the desk. You can come in.”

“Right.”

You settle into his desk chair and pick up Doongie to pet. There’s nothing else to do, and you scan his walls for something to look at. Your eyes land on his calendar where there are reminders for the biology exam next week and the dance competition at the end of the month. You want to ask if everything’s alright, but it feels insensitive to pry.

“My mom made you dinner,” he says. “To thank you. It’s on the dining table.”

You smile as you remember all the times you stayed over for dinner at Minho’s when you were younger. His mom made the best japchae. “Tell her thanks for me.”

“Will do.”

“Minho!” you hear his mom shout. “We’re leaving!”

Minho heaves his bag over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. “Thanks for doing this. My offer of letting you ruin my life still stands, by the way.”

You snort at the comment, which makes Doongie jump off your lap, which makes you and Minho burst into laughter. “Yeah, well, what are best friends for? I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah. Key’s on the coffee table, by the way. And you know where the cat food is right?”

“I got it. I’ll be the best cat sitter ever.” You stand up and give him a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay, Minho.”

He holds you a little longer, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s surprisingly erratic, and yours begins to match in tempo.

“Thanks,” he repeats, finally pulling away.

You stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed and give him another smile as he starts to leave.

His foot has just stepped into the hallway when his mom yells again, “Lee Minho!”

“Coming!” he shouts back. He turns back to you, like he wants to say one more thing. “Don’t forget to eat or else she’ll think I didn’t tell you and get mad. And send me pictures of the cats!”

He disappears before you can even nod, and you hear the front door swing shut. You sit back down and idly spin in his chair, enjoying its cushiness. You’re not hungry yet, so you reach for Dori, who eagerly snuggles into your arms, and snap a picture to send to Minho.

Dori loves me more. Consider your life ruined.

three

The day before the biology exam you’re back at Minho’s house. Two open textbooks and an array of different colored pens decorate the dining table surface while two lazy cats lie on the floor beneath. You flip through your notes for the lesson from two days ago. In the meantime, Minho is frantically shuffling through your flashcards.

He abruptly groans after turning a card around and slumps back into his chair. “I’m so screwed. My test average is already bad, so this is just gonna make it worse. I barely remember what we covered today.”

Minho’s version of bad is everyone’s above average, but it’s unlike him to complain about his scores because he knows it. “Is everything alright?” you ask. “You don’t have to answer, but you seem off.”

“You remember that emergency last week?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try to arrange your facial expression into something less obvious. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not about that.” He looks over to see you caught between relief and annoyance. He grins for a few seconds and then turns slightly more serious. “Dance team stuff. Someone got injured, so we have to fix the routine.”

You nod sagely. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, but my bio grade doesn’t have to.” With a newfound sense of energy, he straightens up and dives back into reading flashcards. “Thanks for letting me borrow your notes. I’d let you ruin my life.”

He says it with the same joking manner as last time, but you don’t answer in the same way. “I don’t think you need any help with that,” you say as you hold up his quiz from a few days ago. There’s a big, red 79% circled at the top and ugly slashes through the numbers of incorrectly answered questions.

He shrinks and makes a face at the low score. “In my defense, I was busy with dance, and it’s at least passing.”

“Well, your 90% test average is suffering.” You shut the textbooks and motion for him to put down the cards. “Tell me about lysosomes.”

“92, but alright. Lysosomes—”

When the tests are passed back another week later, you and Minho gather around your locker after school to compare scores.

He counts down, and you steadily lean in closer in anticipation. “Okay. 3… 2… 1!”

“95!” “95%!”

There’s a brief second where the two of you process each other’s grades before both of you burst into cheers about not only having matching scores but also good matching scores.

“Yogurt place or cafe?” you ask. It’s been a longstanding tradition between you and Minho to get celebratory desserts for receiving scores over 90. “I have a coupon for the new froyo place.”

Minho shakes his head dejectedly, and your heart sinks. You rarely have an excuse to hang out with him outside of school nowadays.

“I’ve got practice in” — he checks his phone — “in fifteen minutes. Raincheck or I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning?”

You brighten up at the prospect of Minho-delivered coffee. “Coffee. Definitely coffee.”

He nods and waves goodbye to you. “See you then.”

“Don’t be late tomorrow!”

four

Because you knew that you were getting coffee delivered to you, you didn’t have any before heading to school and are currently fighting the urge to fall asleep standing up. The bright sunlight that comes in whenever anyone walks into the building greatly helps.

“Morning,” Minho greets, a cardboard cup carrier in his hand.

You spot your drink and eagerly snatch out of its place. “I’d let you ruin my life,” you sigh, too happy to snap at Minho’s smirk at the use of the phrase. You notice the red and gold label wrapped around the cup. “You went to the expensive cafe too? Goodness, how much does this cost?”

“10,000 won.”

“There’s no way it was that expensive!” you argue.

“Delivery fee.” He sips on his own coffee while he waits for you to hand him his money.

You pull out your wallet and give him half of what he wants. “There’s no way it was more than 5,000.”

He smiles and pockets the money. “4,000 actually.” Before you can demand your change, he looks at an invisible watch around his wrist and says, “Can’t be late. See you.”

He takes off before you can protest, and you moodily drink your coffee instead. At least it’s good and full of caffeine.

Lia, the one who dressed as Sandy for Halloween and the person who just witnessed highway robbery, steps closer and asks, “Was that your boyfriend?”

At the word ‘boyfriend,’ you heat up. You snort and shake your head. “Boyfriends don’t overcharge their girlfriends for a drink. He’s my friend.”

“He seems sweet,” she says.

You’re about to correct her when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and smile when you see the notification on your lockscreen.

Lee Minho paid you ₩1,000 - delivery fee has been revoked

“He’s sweet, I guess.”

Lee Minho requests ₩1,000 - jk

“Never mind.”

five

You can’t believe you let Minho talk you into attending one of his dance competitions. It’s not that you’re not supportive of him and his extracurriculars, but none of your friends are free this weekend, so you have to sit in the audience by yourself. You’re not exactly lonely, but you certainly feel out of place. It’s also not fun once you remember that you have a stack of homework waiting on your desk.

When they announce your school’s team to the stage, you join the applause and shout your friend’s name as loud as you can. Minho somehow manages to pick you out of the crowd and nods at you in acknowledgement. Even though you know he can’t clearly see it, you mouth, “Good luck,” to him.

When the spectacular performance is over, you clap and shout his name again. It’s the last performance, and you anxiously wait while the judges deliberate the winner. You text some votes of confidence to Minho in the meantime. Soon all the teams gather in the room. The feedback from the head judge’s microphone quickly silences the whispers.

They’re not third.

Or second.

Or first.

They’re fifth.

You look over at Minho, who is patting his team members on a job well done. He’s smiling goodnaturedly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You grab the bouquet of flowers you bought for him and head down to the ground floor like many others are doing.

Heart thumping, you tap him on the shoulder and hold the bouquet out to him. “Hey. Congrats on making top five,” you joke in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Thanks, I guess. It went better than we expected, but you know, first is ideal,” he shrugs. He points at the flowers in your hands, melancholy nearly gone. “Did you buy those from the supermarket?”

“Would it be better if I said I stole them from the neighbor’s garden?”

“Did you really?”

“No.”

“Lame.” He takes them anyway. “I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You again think back to the stack of homework you have and the amount of studying and procrastinating you had planned to do at home. “Me neither.”

“Thanks for coming though.” He pauses for a bit, and you already know what the next line he says will be. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

“You’re already ruining mine.”

Like you’re both in kindergarten again, he shoves you in retaliation — lightly though because he doesn’t actually want to hurt you — and knowing you can’t push him as easily, you stick your tongue at him. He is soon called away for a group photo, and he volunteers you to take it. You do so, and after, with the help of a team member, you and Minho get a picture together with the fifth place trophy. You both smile at the camera, but you’re gently elbowing each other in the ribs all the while.

A minute later, he shows you his phone screen, and you see his post of the recent picture.

being number five and ruining lives, reads the caption.

You like the post anyway and end up setting that photo as your lockscreen.

six

“I hate this,” Minho mumbles to you, his breath making clouds in the winter air. “Why do they do this to us?”

You walk alongside him, trudging at the same snail’s pace as he is. “I know,” you reply. “C’mon, let’s just get it over with so we can leave.”

You drag him by the arm to the front of the giant Christmas tree. He puts an arm around your shoulder and you an arm around his waist. The two of you plaster wide grins on each of your faces while your respective mothers snap photos of their children in matching outfits. The fathers have learned to disappear once they have arrived at the outdoor mall, and you wish you and Minho decided to slip away before the current situation.

“I hate this tradition,” you say through your teeth. You wince when someone’s flash goes off, the light blinding in the night.

“Me too. This vest looks so stupid.”

“The bow around my neck agrees.”

It happens every year, but you and Minho never grow tired of complaining. Your mothers, best friends themselves, insist on documenting the friendship of their children, so you and Minho are subjected to ridiculous Christmas Eve photos in front of the same tree every year. For whatever reason, neither of you have ever rebelled and refused. Darn people-pleasing personalities.

When your parents are satisfied with the results, you and Minho rush to partially get rid of your outfits. Minho unbuttons his vest, cursing at his cold fingers, and you fumble with the knotted ribbon around your frilly shirt collar. Of course you decide to cut your nails the day before.

“Y/N?” someone says. “Is that you?”

You look up from your ribbon and see it's one of your classmates. “Oh, hey, Lia,” you greet. You point at her bags. “Last minute shopping?”

She sheepishly nods. “I like your dress, by the way.” You don’t miss the way her eyes flicker back and forth from you to Minho. “Do you guys know you’re matching?”

“It’s a stupid tradition,” Minho interjects. His vest is draped over one arm and the other is busy loosening his tie. He looks at the limp bow around your neck. “Do you need help?”

“Yes.”

Lia shoots you a knowing smile and starts turning away. “I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you guys. I’ll see you after break. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say back, more concerned with getting the cursed ribbon off than goodbyes. Minho echoes the sentiment.

You tilt your chin up and let Minho take a stab at the knot. Whenever his cold hands accidentally brush against your neck, you flinch and your pulse jumps. You hear him swearing under his breath over how tight the knot is, and you meekly apologize and feel yourself grow warm. Everyone’s staring at the spectacle, but you want the stupid thing so badly you don’t care.

“Why did tie it so tightly?” he mutters, finally managing to pull it apart. “I think my hands are cramping.”

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you mockingly say before dropping the act. “But thanks for real.”

“Only for you.” He smirks. “You have to get the dads though.”

You groan. He really does want to ruin your life. You and Minho’s dads are notoriously hard to convince to leave the mall once they’ve found a nice spot to eat and chat. “Anything else,” you plead.

He shakes his head. “No. I did it last year too.”

You take his hand and drag him with you, despite his protests. His fingers are still chilly, but his palms are surprisingly warm. He mutters about your own cold hands at the same time, but you’re too preoccupied with scanning the mall for your fathers to say something witty back. You accompanied him last year, and he would do the same to you this year.

As expected, Minho gives you dirty looks while you spend fifteen minutes begging and waiting for the dads to hurry up. You innocently smile back all the while.

seven

You spent a good portion of your winter break at Minho’s house, playing with his cats, eating his mom’s delicious japchae, and lamenting about school starting up again. School is in session now, and you wait for your first period teacher to open the door as you scroll through your phone outside in the hallway. Minho stops by to return the scarf you left at his house, and to your delight, there’s free coffee that comes with it. He puts the emphasis on ‘free.’

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you say, taking it from him. It’s from the expensive cafe again. “Wow, what’s the special occasion?”

“Just ‘cause,” he replies. “See you after school.”

“See you.”

What a weird way to begin the day. You wonder if Minho’s done anything to the drink; no way he would give you something for free. However, when you cautiously taste it, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. You swirl it to further check, but there’s still nothing.

Even though he said it was free, you still send him the money anyway.

A few minutes later, Lia shows up and says good morning. The two of you idly discuss winter break, and you both find out that neither of you did anything interesting.

“Are you going to go?” Lia asks. She points at the giant poster advertising winter formal tickets.

You shrug and sip on your Minho-delivered coffee. It still tastes normal, and you’re not sure what to make of it. “I don’t know. I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Aren’t you dating that guy I saw you matching outfits with at Christmas? I don’t know if I already told you, but those were cute outfits.”

“Nope. He’s still my friend.”

“Is that disappointment I hear?” she teases. At your stuttering attempts to retort, she laughs. “I’m kidding. But he is cute.”

“Do you still want him to ruin your life?”

“You heard that?” she groans. “Oh my goodness, that’s embarrassing.”

When you tell Minho what happened after school, he doesn’t laugh. It’s not particularly funny anyway, but he usually smiles a little. Today he’s stony. “So is that your answer?”

“My answer to what?” you bewilderedly ask. You think back to morning and even when you were last back at his house only to come up blank with what he can be referring to. “What did you ask?”

Realization hits him. “You didn’t read the coffee label, did you?”

The cup has long been tossed into the trash by now. “Was I supposed to be? What did you ask?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he quickly brushes off. He hops down off the wall. “I gotta go to practice.”

“Wait!” you call after him but he runs off.

A few minutes later, you find yourself digging through the trash can you threw your empty cup in earlier. Luckily, it’s mostly filled with paper cuttings and other coffee cups. However, the latex gloves you borrowed from your biology teacher don’t lessen your disgust, especially when leftover liquid drips out. Your teacher watches on in amusement as you scrutinize every one.

“This must be a very important piece of trash,” she remarks.

“It is. Oh! It’s this one!”

The label is stained with coffee, and you can just barely make out Minho’s handwriting in black ink. Why did he have to write it so small? No wonder why you didn’t notice it earlier. You hold up the cup higher to the light, and your eyes grow wide as you read the message.

want to ruin my life forever and be more than friends? will you go to winter formal with me?

You nearly drop it in your surprise. Oh goodness. You really, really messed up.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage, and every part of you is buzzing with adrenaline. Minho likes you in that special way, and you…

You…

You kind of feel the same?

Yes?

Wait, no?

No!

You definitely feel the same.

You hurriedly thank your teacher for her help and rush out of the classroom with Minho’s cup in your hand. You have to fix this now. You burst into the dance practice area, out of breath, and everyone looks at you in confusion.

“Yes! The answer is yes, Minho!” you shout and triumphantly hold out the cup.

The dance captain looks back and forth between your panting frame and Minho’s frozen figure. “Let’s take a five minute break?” he says, more of a suggestion than an order.

You walk over to Minho while everyone else disperses. He meets you halfway. His mouth is open, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

You smile at him and thrust the cup into his hands. “Hi. The answer is yes to both questions.”

“But you said you told Lia we were just friends,” he breathlessly says, like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Well, we were just friends ten hours ago. I didn’t realize I wanted to be more than your best friend until I read your note.”

A hesitant smile creeps up onto his face. “I didn’t think you would actually take me up on my offer of ruining my life. I thought I screwed it all up by even asking.”

“No! I really like you,” you blurt out. “Like really, really. And I think I have for a long time now. It just… took awhile for me to find out.”

“I like you too, life ruiner.”

You try to playfully push him, but he wraps you in a hug before you can even touch him. You squirm in his grasp and giggle when he holds you even tighter.

“Life ruiner, life ruiner,” he chants in your ear. “And you’re all mine now.”

~ ad.gray

[tiredb0igivemesugars]

The struggles that come with being a Stark

Summary: Y/n has been very down lately and feels completely alone even if the tower is buzzing with Avengers every day. On one particular morning y/n is forced to come out of his room and he heads down to his father’s lab, y/n feels very ignored and storms out crying. Peter goes after y/n and gets him to open up. Can something deemed “broken” be fixed?

Words: 2.4k

⚠️Warnings:⚠️ Mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, some light swear words

Pairing: Tony Stark!dad and reader!son

Note: the timeline is all funky to my understanding but please just roll with it... again

It had been good for a while, really good, but in the back of your mind, you knew it was only a matter of time until things got bad again.

And eventually, they did. Like always

It started with the little things. When you didn’t have the energy to put the freshly washed clothes you thought nothing of it. It started with feeling the need to sleep all the time, you tried to blame it on stress, not wanting to admit how bad things truly were.

Getting up in the morning was harder, showering was suddenly too time-consuming. Before you had the time to realise what was truly going on, you were laying in your own filth. Surrounded by stuff you couldn’t remember ever bringing into your room, the blinds were closed. Sometimes you opened the one closest to your bed, it was nice to watch the outside world from time to time. You saw how your friends ran and played outside, ever since Peter joined the Avengers it was like they just got more and more childish, but it was nice. All of the Avengers had rough lives and seeing them so happy made you feel a sense of relief. This was all Peter’s doing, he was keeping the atmosphere good, it didn’t necessarily matter if you weren’t there, they’d be fine.

That’s what you told yourself, ending it all wasn’t something you necessarily thought about, but it was a game in your head. A fantasy really, a game you noticed yourself playing more often than not. The game kept you busy, sometimes for an entire day.

  But there were days when the game wasn’t as fun, on those days you went outside of your room, you tried to do it so that no one would see you, sometimes you’d run into Steve or even to your dad, but not often. Your dad, Tony, made jokes of how you had ”emerged from your cave” and if you were too unfortunate enough to walk out of your room when a lot of them were in the kitchen or in the living room, you’d get an ”oh how nice of you to join us”. You knew that he didn’t do that to hurt you, but it ended up doing exactly that. His words stung, they haunted you even when you were alone, like an echo in your head.

You woke up when the sun hit your eyes, you had forgotten to close the blinds, again. ”Jarvis, close the blinds,” you said, voice groggy. No answer. ”Jarvis?” You asked again, receiving no answer. You groaned as you realised that you had to go down to your dad’s workshop, to tell your dad that Jarvis wasn’t working in your room. You sat up on your bed, feeling hazy. You slowly stood up to walk towards the elevator.

Your dad was working with Peter in his workshop. ”Dad?” You called out from the door, no answer. ”Dad?” You tried again, louder this time. Peter noticed you as you stood by the door. ”Mr Stark,” Peter said, immediately catching your dad’s attention. Peter pointed in your direction. ”Oh, what’s up?” Tony asked, quickly looking at you before turning back to his work. It frustrated you to see your dad ignoring you in such an obvious matter, it annoyed you that he didn’t hear you but he heard Peter.

Frustration turned into sadness as tears prickled by your waterline, you tried to blink them away as you cleared your throat, catching your dad’s attention. ”What is it?” He asked, sounding annoyed in your opinion. ”Nothing, just that J-Jarvis isn’t working in my room,” you said as you walked away. You didn’t want your dad or Peter to see when you cried. ”What’s up with y/n?” You heard Peter’s voice ask as you walked away from your father and him. ”I don’t know, maybe y/n’s feeling a little upset,” you heard your father say, clearly trying to say it in a way so that you wouldn’t hear. ”Should someone check up on y/n then?” You heard Peter ask. You didn’t hear what your father said due to the fact that the elevator doors had closed.

As the doors closed, your tears began travelling down. You weren’t jealous of Peter, you couldn’t be, he brought so much happiness to everyone. It kind of pissed you off how smart he was, you had your fair share of skills which your dad used to take interest in, he tried to get you interested in anything that might involve your skills, thus making you develop. But since Peter came along, it was all about him, it was good that your dad had someone to share things with, since you weren’t really interested in his field, but it still hurt to not get even nearly as much attention from him as you used to.

You weren’t really feeling your nest today, just in case your dad came by to fix Jarvis, which you highly doubted, you wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe the vents, there you could spy on people, you used to love being in there as a child, but abandoned that when you turned older.

You climbed inside the vent and were surprised by how spacious it still was, even for a young adult like you. You had no idea which way you should go but decided to follow the noise that reached the vent, Natasha and Steve in the training area. They were fighting each other while having a rather loud conversation. ”I don’t know what’s wrong with y/n, but I also don’t think that it’s okay for Tony to just ignore it all. He’s not doing anything to make y/n feel better,” Natasha said as he swung Steve’s legs from under him. Steve’s back hit the ground, getting his air lightly knocked out. ”But young people get sad all the time, why should he jump at y/n’s every whim?” Steve asked as he slowly got up from the floor. ”Y/n isn’t just sad, something is wrong and we should help,” Natasha said and kicked Steve in the chest. Steve grabbed her leg and sent her flying across the room.

You didn’t bother listening to their conversation anymore, was everybody suddenly talking about you? Why was suddenly everyone on your case? Why did they care?

”Hey y/n,” you suddenly heard from behind you, making you yelp loudly. ”Hey sorry it’s just me,” Peter apologised. You fell against the wall of the vent but decided to stay there in a sitting position. ”What are you doing here?” You finally asked after calming down a bit. ”I came to check up on you, you seemed a bit off,” Peter explained. You groaned loudly, ”Why is everyone talking about me today!” You complained.

Peter settled to sit next to you, but still giving you space.

”Everyone is just worried, you look sad and we barely even see you anymore. You’re hard to even recognise nowadays.” Peter said, stealing glances at you. You groaned slightly, trying to decide how to possibly end the conversation.

”I do realise that I might be the last person you want to talk to, yet I’d beg to argue that I’m the one to understand you the best.” Peter was right, and you hated it. You banged your head against the wall of the vent in frustration, ”I hate that you’re right.” You finally admitted. You took a deep breath before opening your mouth, might as well. ”I don’t know, it started out small. I was a child and some bad stuff was going down and I really didn’t know how to deal, people are more likely to notice a depressed child than a depressed young adult I guess.” ”Dad got me some help. Talked to a real nice lady, gave me blocks to play with and all. Yeah well anyway, I thought I was better. A lot of years went by that I was completely okay, until recently.” You explained as you pulled on any loose cuticle or nail you could find on your fingers. ”It just crept up all of a sudden, I didn’t have the energy to fold my laundry or make my bed. And then I just started sleeping a lot, like a lot. And before you know it, I’m awake at three in the morning, on the roof, and I’m looking at an at least 20 story drop. And I have no idea what the hell I’m doing there.”

It felt like some weight was coming off of your shoulders, you silently shook, eyes getting a little teary - that was good, right? "And then there's the fact that I'm a Stark. I'm Tony Stark's son and expectations are laid on me every day, if not by him then the world. I don't know if I have what it takes. I mean, I am smart but I'll never be able to fill his shoes." You continued, drawing the curtain open a bit more.

”Did you ever think about telling Mr Stark?” Peter asked, curious.

”Well I mean, at first I didn’t even notice anything that alarming, and when I finally did notice, it felt like it was too late, you know? Like how would I even bring that up? Hey, dad, I kind of want to jump off of a building because I’m sad!” You said, the last part overly cheery to compensate the tears that currently were cascading down your cheeks.

Peter moved a little closer to you, ”You know, it’s never too late, Mr Stark loves you very dearly and he wants to help you.” When you didn’t answer Peter he took the chance to do his own monologue. ”You know, he never shuts up about you. To him, you’re his most successful invention, he always talks about you, never fails to mention your achievements, no matter how small. You’re the best son Mr Stark could have. He’s genuinely so proud of you and he loves you more than anything, it breaks him to see you like this because he’s so lost he doesn’t know what to do to help you.”

After that Peter let the silence sizzle in the air, he waited for you to say something. You needed a moment, what Peter said opened your eyes, you had never thought that your dad even could be proud of you and to hear that he was the proudest of you and he loved you that much just put things into perspective.

”To be completely honest, I was kind of jealous of you and the bond you have with my dad.” You admitted when you felt strong enough to talk again. Peter laughed a little, ”why on earth would you think that?”

”You build stuff together, the two of you as a duo looks like the most normal thing this tower has seen in years. It feels good to know that dad has someone to share his passions with since I’m not all that talented or interested in whatever the hell it is that you two do, yet I sometimes feel jealous. It’s not your fault and you shouldn’t feel bad, it’s just my brain. I’ll get over it.”

”Do you want to go talk to Mr Stark?” Peter asked after a while. The moment was over, but you still wanted to thank him. ”I think I have to. By the way, thank you. Thank you for finding me and talking to me, it really means a lot.” You said and offered Peter a smile, a smile that was for the first time in months, genuine.

Peter returned the smile, ”It was nothing really, you would’ve done the same for me.”

”Mr Stark!” Peter called out once you entered the workshop, the dishevelled head of your precious dad shot up from somewhere admits all of the ”junk”.

”Y/n wants to talk to you!” Peter said before turning to you. ”It’ll be alright,” he reassured you and gave you a thumbs-up as he walked out, giving the two of you some privacy.

”Son! What’s up?” He asked when you approached him. He climbed out of a machine he was building. You took a deep breath as you sat down on something you felt would hold your weight. You felt your dad’s burning gaze, yet, you decided to not return it. You stared at your shaking hands as you slowly began. ”D-dad, I think I need help.” Silence. ”I don’t know, I’ve been feeling pretty bad lately and I feel like I should talk to someone about it.”

You heard your dad pull out something with wheels on it, he seemed to sit on it and roll towards you. His feet quickly came into your view. His hands slowly grabbed yours. ”Look at me,” he said, his voice shook just the tiniest amount. You slowly found his eyes and took the sight in. There was no disappointment or anger in his voice, just worry. ”I want to help you, and I will. But I need to know what’s going on.”

You sniffled a little, breaking the eye contact to collect yourself.

”I didn’t even notice it at first. I just didn’t have the energy to do the everyday things, I was exhausted all of the time. The next thing you know I’m having a staring contest with the concrete from the roof in the middle of the night. I don't even know why. I guess I'm just not happy anymore. It's not that my life sucks or something like that. I'm a Stark, people expect things and I don't know if I can amount to that greatness. I'm not like you, I'll never be." You said, trailing off at the end.

"Y/n, I'll never want you to be like me. You are perfect just the way you are, you are my son - best one anyone could ever ask for. I'll always love you and you're the most important thing to me in this whole world. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you when you needed me the most. I promise I'll get you all the help you need and I promise to never leave your side." Tony said all of those things with ease, his voice shook but there was so much meaning in his voice. It was gentle and loving, like the hug he offered you. You accepted the hug since your dad was the best hugger in the world.

His arms wrapped themselves around your shoulders as you laid your head on his shoulder. "Y/n, I love you 3000, don't you ever forget that." He whispered into your hair.